The Heart Under the Floorboards

I woke up last night to use the rest room and I could have sworn I heard a heart beating underneath my floorboards.

Thump, thump, thump, thump

In my sleepy stupor I stumbled to the sound, and as I got closer, I heard the beating grow louder and louder. I fell to my hands and knees and pressed my ear to the floor.

The beating pressed into my brain, reminding me that humans do that; live.

When I pressed my ear to the floor I found that the sound stopped. I lifted my head.

The beating was coming from under my shirt. I put my hand on my left breast.

The beating was coming from me.

Summer in the South

I am spending my summer in the south and I already hate it.

After being laid off, I have done a lot of soul-searching.

Not.

What I have really done is unfun and uncool.

I am watching re-runs. I wish my life was a sitcom.

I could pretend to suppress a giggle while the laugh track plays on.

I want my summers to be filled with me in a bikini top and short shorts, a la Katy Perry's new single, California Gurls

The closest I will get is me in a bikini top at my grandmother's pool, cursing myself for that piece of cake I had last weekend at the barbeque, where I ate my emotions instead of flirting with the cute shirtless men. I then proceed to get mad at myself for getting mad at myself, then get sad because I cannot control my emotions, and then the day ends with me in gasping tears, the ugly kind, curled up in the fetal position and convincing myself not to get plastic surgery.

Better stick with a turtleneck.