Denial

I live in denial.

I am in denial that I cannot watch a movie and get work done at the same time.

That I should probably clean more often.

That I'm not in control of my life.

That much more exists beyond this moment. Right now. And now.

That my bad habits are problematic.

That I am utterly, pathetically materialistic.

That I let my culture dictate what I do and how I look and how I feel about myself.

That I need to run more often.

That I won't always be twenty-one and ready to take on the world.

That my eyebrows need to be plucked.

That I should probably get more sleep.

That I would have the time to read if I restructured my time just a little.

That my room's a mess.

Okay, maybe not in total denial. But with every passing day I become ever so slightly more adept at tucking these loose strands behind my ear, ignoring they way they continually slither around to lick my cheeks and my eyelashes.