I chew it. I chew for the sake of chewing. There is absolutely nothing better to do unless it were to make a decision, which is impossible. The stoop is comfortable and nobody is bothering me. I am part of the world, of life as they say, and I belong and I don't belong.
I sit on the stoop for an hour or so, mooning. I come to the same conclusion I always come to when I have a minute to think for myself. Either I must go home immediately and start to write or I must run away and start a wholly new life.
This excerpt has made me (a) want to kill little, hopeful Amanda living inside of me, by (b) splashing this hot cup of tea in my face, then (c) move to Spain and practice being culturally inept for a few years until I am ready to start communicating with people again, all while (d) masturbating. And lastly, (e) shaking and laughing and hiccuping, all at once.
God, my stomach.
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