mezzanine

dear z,

sometimes i’m afraid there’s nothing left behind these eyeballs. last night i spent 30 minutes trying to fucking figure out how to split the tips at the restaurant & it shouldn’t be that fucking hard but i just stared at the numbers for so, so long. 

i was supposed to get off at 10 & i didn’t actually get a chance to leave until 11 & by that point i was so exhausted i just collapsed in bed without showering & i woke up this morning reeking so horribly i could smell it every time i moved, & my hair has gotten so greasy it’s beginning to get curly.

i’m curled up in a little ball in the corner of the mezzanine storage at work right now, getting covered in dirt & sawdust & they’re playing “in the air tonight” & the speaker is right above my head like it’s god himself speaking down to me. 

z, there’s so many things i want to say & need to say but im just too tired to write them all down right now & i keep trying but every time i do i end up just staring at this blankly.

i’ll work on it & try to get back to you later

love you to the moon & back,

lola