Perpetual change.

Every now and then I move something in my room to a place I wouldn't think to look for it, until I begin to look for it there, then I move it again.


Every time I misplace my keys, I sort of think about how that is something people have always been frustrated with me over. That, and how messy I keep my room. Yet, I haven't changed these things. If I had to find my keys right now, I probably couldn't. I even bought a carabiner, but that hasn't helped at all, really. One time, after breaking up with someone, he came over to my new apartment. I think just to see it. It was a small one bedroom on Locust Street in Kalamazoo. I could touch the ceilings when I reached up and the whole place was covered in books and clothes. He hugged me and said it was nice to see my place so messy, because it reminded him of me. I think about that scene a lot, and have no idea why.

I also think about a story my friend told me. He was real sad, hanging out with some girl he hardly knew, and she was really depressed as well. So they both decided to give each other tattoos. He didn't say what they gave each other, and I don't think it matters really. I just really appreciate that sort of sad desperation. He was going to give me one when I saw him last, a boat, but I'm really glad I didn't do it. I'm working on better decision making skills, but not really working on finding my keys or cleaning my room.