Hello march

March Started With My Hair Wrong and My Brain Too Loud #

March arrived today with rain, static electricity, and psychological instability. My hair looked wrong from the second I woke up. Not dramatically wrong. Just enough to create that specific female irritation where every reflection during the day becomes a personal attack. Mom says bad hair days are usually “a problem of posture and mood,” which sounds elegant. Outside, M. looked wet and metallic this morning. The sidewalks near school were covered in that grey slush rain leaves behind after pretending to be spring for two hours and then changing its mind. Everybody arrived carrying damp coats and exhausted expressions. School in March always feels strange. Winter technically still exists, but people begin behaving as if freedom might eventually return. Teachers become slightly less cruel. Girls start discussing lighter jackets. Boys suddenly remember football exists outdoors again.

And yet everybody still looks tired.

During Latin I realized I had copied an entire exercise incorrectly because I’d spent ten straight minutes staring out the window thinking about absolutely nothing useful…

Actually that’s a lie.
I was thinking about G.
Which usually means I was thinking about him.

H. noticed immediately, obviously. She looked at my notebook, then at me, then quietly said: “You’re somewhere else today.” The terrifying thing about H. is that she never says things dramatically. She just observes them calmly, like weather. At lunch E. spent twenty minutes explaining why one girl in our class secretly hates another girl because “she wears confidence like it’s natural.” Honestly girls understand hierarchy the way military strategists understand maps.

After school I came home soaked because the tram stopped for almost fifteen minutes near Porta Venezia while everybody inside silently lost the will to live together. The apartment smelled like coffee and Angel. Mam was sitting at the dining table surrounded by sketches, gemstones, tracing paper, and tiny gold pieces spread out under white lamps. She looked impossibly composed while I looked like emotional roadkill. I asked if she’d ever had days where everything felt slightly wrong for no reason. She kept drawing while answering: “Of course. Discipline exists for those days.” Then she finally looked up and added: “Also better lighting.”

ICONIC.
Remember me,
Eclipse