Bee > Recent Status Updates

Oh lord when does it end

Me when I’m writing my timed poetry assignment in AP Lit and Blum comes up to my desk and LAUGHS at my stack of books and says all I need is the Bible to complete it—as if I’m not already hauling around the holy trinity of boring English textbooks with me everywhere I go.

Why did I choose to take a second English class?

I’m teen laureate this is my job I love poetry I love poetry I love poetry I love poetry (me gaslighting myself into tolerating this book because the Stephen Fry is just the British version of John. Green.)

It’s the way I’m doing these ridiculous poetry exercises for homework at 3 in the morning oh I feel INSANE. Anyway here’s some iambic pentameter I wrote:

I eat pineapple, enzymes break me down.
My tongue tingles, I am a piece of meat.

THIS IS SO WARM AND COZY

also there’s a character named Bessie and for once she’s not a cow or horse (she’s a shop assistant in a hat shop…)

“If it holds terrors they are our terrors, if it has its abysses these abysses belong to us, if there are dangers then we must try to love them”

Mr. Rilke trying to heal my avoidant tendencies rn help

“It is so important to be solitary and attentive when one is sad… the quieter, the more patient and open we are in our sadness… the more it will be our fate, and when one day in the future it ‘takes place’… we shall feel close to it in our inmost hearts. And that is necessary”

I am a dramatic sad poet and I’m going to be okay and my sadness will only lead to more poetry and a poet can do no wrong

“What is life supposed to do with this heap of half-broken things that they call their togetherness and would like to call their happiness… their future?”

Okay so… love is hopeless, just become a poet who lives in absolute solitude. Got it.

“Love your solitude and bear the pain it causes you with a melody wrought with lament… take pleasure in your growth, in which no one can accompany you, and be kind-hearted towards those you leave behind”

Senior year is lonely, I talk to like 3 ppl—this is my own doing. I miss the ppl I knew, regret leaving them behind. Idk if I can let that go for poetry, but this passage gives me some solace anyway

“What matters is to live everything. Live the questions for now. Perhaps then you will gradually, without noticing it, live your way into the answer, one distant day in the future”

Oh okay so I’m crying. I’ve felt hopeless lately, but this just gave me so much reassurance. I have to live so I can write—and I want to write.

“I am depressed because I am indulging in a sense of loss instead of wonder”

Oh.

Chapter 13 oh no no no no reading Hagar’s pov with “Not a Lot, Just Forever” by Adrianne Lenker playing in the background is actually form of torture

I need more Corinthians and Lena content. Fuckass Milkman.

“Poet Laureate” and “Bryn Mawr” all mentioned in just two pages. Chapter 9 was meant for me

Razumikhin/Raskolnikov for the win

Taking advantage of having no extra reading for AP Lit this week and finally finishing this book. Lowk wanna drag it out a little longer bc I love this book and don’t want it to end

“I’m the Sunday man”

CHILLS chapter 6 made me so so sad. Anyone who hates Guitar after this lacks human sympathy I fear xx

The last line of chapter 5 lowk gave me chills. I love this so far. Hate Milkman, love Guitar and Pilate.
Women putting a mirror on Pilate’s door is going to send me back into my existential crisis about mirrors

The ending has me spiraling back into my sophomore year existential crisis

I can’t believe I’m reading this play again.

And now for my final act, I shall attempt to finish this book in 2 hours, just in time to get ready for school!! (It’s currently 3:10 am)