predictable.

my life has become clean,
cut with sharp edges,
everything in bright blue, light, cold and immaculate.

I step lightly on my feet, almost dancing,
knowing that if I make the slightest tremour I'll feel enourmous and swollen,
unable to focus my thoughts until I spend a solid hour pedalling away on the excerbike.

I pause my audiobook, throw down tablets for my headache,
whip up a coffee, microwave set for two minutes,
I use this two minutes to refill my waterbottle, stick it in the fridge,
pee, walk back to the microwave with exactly three seconds left.

Bring my coffee back to the room, knowing that by one ciggarette, it will have cooled to my exact temperature of preference.
sit on my bed, write on paragraph of english practice, then check my twitter,
another, check my facebook, rinse my mug, repeat coffee process.
another, post on my twitter, rinse my mug, drink the water,
another, refill the bottle, piss, more coffee, check my myspace.

and the whole time, you know I'm not really into it.
I love keeping myself busy with these things,
love exactness, the precise manner of being clean,
being cold, putting everything in order, falling into place, following my path.
it's only the tiny things I can control.

I write this blog and the microwave is beepbeepbeeping away because I've gotten distracted,
writing this here blog,
oh well.
my mind has even fallen into a pattern
school-boy-school-boy.
it's sick, and I feel like a child, but I could care less.

I'm happy.