The Little Martian laughs with me as we sit curled up near a stolen halogen heater.
Crumbs litter my bohemian rug, the martian and I have plowed through a pile of gingerbread cookies and we’re washing it down with the most perfectly bitter coffee.
He glances over at me as we chart our course trajectory for the coming year.
To English major or to not? To write or to overthink?
The little martian smiles lazily at me through his pseudo eggnog blur, “do what you love, the rest will follow”
I snort unattractively at his stupid cliche. But the little martian persists
“ All you have is the now, all you have is what we are, stop running from who you are, stop trying to fit into that little silicon barbie mold. It isn’t you. “
The little martian makes a fair point.
I am tired, my rubber is all burnt out, and I don’t feel like being a mannequin anymore.
“You’ve been standing there, gaunt and blank, waiting for the world to dress you with expectation. Fuck that. “ he waves his arms emphatically, and a little bit of coffee sloshes over the side of his cup and stains my multicolored rug.
“Fuck that !” Yelps the little martian, all cute and sparkly.
“It's so easy to say fuck it. to say go with the flow …to say live in the moment and let go of all the other shit.. its so-“
The little martian has heard this fruitless rant one time too many, he cuts me off
“Fuck it”
“Fuck it?”
“Fuck it.”
We cut out the old and we make way for the new, we pull the toxic weeds from the garden of our minds and let the bruised soil heal for a while.
The little martian points out my window, into the winter sun,
”Let it be. Just let it be for a little while”
I let it be.
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