A little bit frightened

First--an epic fail in the kitchen. EPIC. So I move tomorrow. I'm kinda trying not to think about it both because I am afraid and partially because I'm sick of packing even though I have at least another hour. So there you go. In the spirit of not thinking about it, at least for a second--my huge failure. Because I am moving out I am trying to finish what food I have left--there isn't much but there was a frozen bag of baby carrots. I hate raw baby carrots but enjoy sweet glazed boiled ones so I boiled them, but the flavor was pretty bland so I decided to add something sweet. Of course I had no sugar--that would be too easy. Instead I looked at my food stash and viola! I had sweetened coconut flakes. I added them to the water and it turned white and frothy and the carrots began to smell sweet. Unfortunately it gets worse. In addition to my coconut flakes I had red wine vinegar--something my mom uses to make this awesome dressing. I'm not sure what I was thinking, or if I was thinking at all, but I added copious amounts of the vinegar to the mesh making a pink frothy mixture. About two seconds after I added it the smell told me I had made a terrible mistake and decided to try and fix it with something and for some crazy reason raspberry jam seemed like an optimal solution and unfortunately I added it. And there you have it--perhaps the worst carrot concoction ever to be sampled in the history of everyone everywhere. It was bad, but one of the worst parts of all of this was that I actually finished probably two thirds of it before I realized that it didn't taste good at all. Pity the poor man who gets stuck with me--not only do I lack any semblance of cooking skill but most of my taste buds seem to have died somehow. Kind of a deadly combination.

Other than that I only have moving on my mind. I am sleeping on the couch cause my bed is in storage. I actually don't mind sleeping here but it is strange to see my room all stripped and empty. I really like my little red room. It has served me very well. Mostly though, I am frightened of this summer. As I stop to think on it a little there are far too many descriptions for fear. There's scared silly and seriously scared, scared out of my mind, crazy scared, scared out of my wits, scared sober, scared spitless, scared to death, and probably dozens of others. I don't know that that necessarily means we have a culture obsessed with fear, but we certainly can be preoccupied with it I suppose, and that's exactly how I feel--just a little bit preoccupied, like there's an itch just behind my left eyeball that I can't quite get to so instead it just kinda persists and irritates. I know everything is going to be alright in the end--that God won't abandon me and that I will be taken care of but I am not good with new situations--I am not good with meeting a whole bunch of new people and new circles of friends, especially when it has to be done quickly. I am a slow methodical kiddo who takes a while to get to know anyone. Still, this is an exciting adventure--what an awesome opportunity to get to know new people as well as myself. I will grow and learn so much by forcing myself to do what I am bad at because there is simply nothing else to do. And really I know it will be fine. It's just the clothing strewn all over the bare floor, carrots covered in disgusting coconut flakes because that's all I have, boxes everywhere, and the tang of uncertainty in the air that is hard--it's the waiting I'm not good at, the not knowing that is the worst of all. Still, all the same, it's only about a week now and then the waiting will be over. Everything is going to be alright. It's all going to work out just fine. I can do this. I can. Haha if I can eat carrots that taste like coconut, vinegar, and jam then I can certainly meet a couple new people.

WAIT

Weary white wary walls trap
strangled whispered whimpers.
Disheveled magazines—wounded soldiers
litter the tables and floor, drip words, phrases
like cough syrup, sticky and sweet.
Children with frosted eyes and stringy hair
gaze longingly at the nothingness
while mothers stroke their dirty cheeks.

Aged asphalt ablaze in August autumn bake
anxious addled arguments.
upholstery melding seamlessly
to the exposed flesh behind my kneecap
like chewing gum, used and discarded.
Pickups drip water from the AC
wink impatiently at the blushing globe
while drivers hide behind dark shutters.

Impatient ill-mannered interns interrupt
more incurred instruction.
Years of study and stress like backwash
swash around in heads too full to be useful
like watery lemonade too long by the window.
Patients blink surprised at the tone
afraid of the groundless confidence
while teachers with squeaky pens get hand cramps.

Teetering tired men timidly shuffle
two legs transformed to six.
Oxygen tanks and medicine patrol
the dwindling hours and strung-out days
like fat security guards in a pawn shop.
Visages from the past hide behind his bifocals
shimmer just beyond his restricted reach
while posterity wonders how much time is left.