anxiety flooded through my veins this morning,
the second i opened my eyes-
the dread consumed me again
and i already wanted to give up
but
instead
i slept for another hour took bath
and was kind to myself,

i tell my friends to
be kind,
but not to anyone
who comes knocking at their door,
needing advice
or a shoulder to cry on,
i tell them to be kind to themselves

i havent listened
to my own advice
in a long time so-

i put on my favorite rings
slapped on some eyeliner
and was kind,

i smashed some avocado on my toast and took a train to newtown

i walked and went into all the stores i thought looked pretty,

i watched a man paint the most beautiful pair of eyes
and bought myself a piece of art to bring home with me.

its of a girl
a 5 year old black girl
with the most beautiful hair-
coloured blue,

the universe
lies in her hair
like it did in krishna’s mouth when Yashoda ma checked if he had eaten all the butter.

the girl wears yellow boots
and holds a book
it says “i have dreams too”

as i write this my heart is content,

im

happy.

last night my best friend asked me
over our skype call at 1 in the morning
“what does happiness feel like?”

i smiled
a sad sad smile
and told her thats to me,

its when im not anxious,
she told me that she
couldnt remember what it felt like for her

i hope she remembers soon
because
im starting to remember and
its
beautiful-

im in a cafe
with a large latte
that i forgot to ask for sugar in
the light is streaming through the windows,

i picked the longest table with the most light,
the scent of coffee and old aged books is consuming me,

im so
peacefull

while i walked earlier,
i passed multiple bookstores
and
being the person i am-
i went into every one

flipped through pages of books
too expensive for me to bring home with me
and walked out-

the last one i walked into was called
“Elizabeths Bookshop”
in the front of the store
they kept lots of classics
they had such beautiful ones
with embossed spines
and yellowed pages
the feeling of the books
in my hands was so calming-

i used to feel the same way as a kid,
it was escapism in its best from,
anytime i was upset or down
id pick up my favorite book and read for hours and hours-

my mum used to put my books into a suitcase and lock it away

near finals because i wouldn’t study otherwise

i havent read properly in forever-

it hurts
but today i picked up
“65 short stories”
by W. Somerset Maughum
its blue and red
embossed with gold piping and gold text
it was first published in 1976

and it calms me,
i hope this book works the way the books i used to read as a kid did.

its 4pm

ive finished my coffee
and the light is still streaming
through the windows
the entire cake is
drowning in sunlight
i dont want to stop
writing this poem
but it
like today
has to end
whether i like it
or not.

ps- it should be noted that today, whilst putting my hair up in a bun, my favorite ring fell into the toilet bowl & very sadly had to be flushed away.

-24/4/17
3:08pm

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