drinking the tea that I bought and forgot about until tonight.
I bought it for a change and to make myself feel better:
To feel wealthier,
like my bank account doesn't have a leak in it somewhere.
To feel prettier,
like I'm not wearing my old paint shirt again, or that my hair
hasn't been tied in a knot for the past week.
To feel classier,
like I'm not drinking it from a two dollar mug in a messy
apartment with dim lighting that makes me squint.
To feel healthier,
like I don't live on all the cliché college foods.
To feel smarter,
like I haven't seen any of my midterm grades yet.
I bought it to feel peace, because Indian tea could do that.
I'll try anything to get the line on my forehead to diminish so my friends will stop asking me what's wrong--to want to be with my friends in the first place instead of staying in to clean the kitchen on Friday night.
I shouldn't feel so indifferent about secluding myself, and maybe it won't happen tonight--maybe not even for a week or a month--but I will get better. Eventually.
Tea can't do more harm than good, can it?
*Samuel Johnson's Rasselas