The Prison Made of Salt Bars

Don't ever take what I say personally. They are just words. And who cares about words on Livejournal? You shouldn't care. Don't let me make you angry, don't let my words upset you. I'll try not to be upset as well.

I feel anxious today: disturbed by old women pouting their lips in a sexual way, disgusted with the newspapers and their lurid cover photos of war and Maxine Carr smiling because she's leaving prison, noxious with every step I take towards a job I don't love.

The only redemption is in the swimming pool. Cruising the water would only be better if it were salty, and brimming with fish.

I smeared some moisturizer after swimming, but the faint whiff of old chlorine still lingers.

Hours and hours to go.