I sit at my desk and my first thought is always “I should clean this off,” but I never do. I leave it covered in books, dirty mugs, empty containers, candy wrappers, pens, papers, bottles, CDs, bouncy balls, crackers, a hat, a poem. I proceed to waste several hours of my life on the internet.

I have so much to do. I think I will go to sleep instead.

I will dream about dancing in far away places. About camping out under the stars on a mountain. Ballgowns that twirl and float. Going places on the arm of a beautiful man with dark hair and bright eyes and dimples. I will dream about being old and having smile wrinkles and gorgeous long silver hair. I will dream about my Dad’s belly laugh and whiskery goodnight kisses. How he smelled when he came in from mowing the lawn. My body will heal all the way and I will cry for him first. I will dream about sitting in the sun on a warm day and reading a good book.

I will wake up to Spice Girls again tomorrow. Reality will hit and I will write a ten page paper.