emotional diarrhea

i almost started crying when i just yelled (well, not really, yell, i don’t really yell… except when i am talking…) at my ninth graders.

it’s funny. i didn’t know that i can be equally overcome with disappointment as with love for my little chickens (what i call the 9th graders). truth: kids are cruel at times. truth: woodstock is a boarding school with a history of bullying. but it doesn’t fucking hurt me any less. god dammit! what does it take for people to treat each other well? when people treat others well out of the goodness of their christian hearts… is it as pure if people do it because it’s the fucking right thing to do? how can we show them? “you’ll regret treating others badly someday…” so empty. why do we have to learn everything for ourselves, so selfishly guarding life experiences as our own…

what do you want?

i want it to hurt less

i am glad it hurts.

what do you want?

how do you experience love while not longing, the moment while not wishing for it to continue, new worlds without comparing them to the old... how do you move on while standing still, let go of things you love... how do you divide the weight and love it all? why do i use you to insulate myself from things i know are only i's... it's a bad habit to build foundations on moving trains...

we are alone.

we are i.

it's up to you.

it's up to me.

it's a given.

who's going to watch you die?