97 degrees

And then, you realize you still don't know what you are going to do with all your empty pages. You fill the squares on your calendar with different colored inks, and pretend you are not just trying to catch up with other people who also don't know what they are doing with their lives.

So you just freak out and buy a new duvet cover at Ikea, instead of showing up in yourself for others, in more respectable places.

I'm trying not to be your flakiest friend, Sharon.
I'm trying not to be the one that says she can't go to your ballet recital because of the headache that comes back with bright sunlight, and Sharon, I'm trying to pretend for you that I would like to sit at your pool party where you will not be serving martinis.

But I can't turn it off, like a brother.
I can't compartmentalize, and pretend that every time the door swings on its hinges, that I do not hope
this hope,
or think that....

I am trying to want to come to your pool party, is what is getting lost in this email to you, Sharon.
There are no excuses.
I will show up to your pool party with a macaroni salad and a bottle of Sprite, and whatever is left of me after not sleeping and not taking iron pills, and not lacquering up my skin with suntan lotion.