Classes begin in a few hours; I am a junior living vicariously through freshmen. I have grown up and moved and not moved. I cling to experiences like a baby blanket.
The Blue Group thread is really (really) funny now that we're not first or second years anymore.
Sometimes I wish I could relive things with perspective. I think that's why I like rereading books.
I know I have a lot of friends but I kind of wonder where they go when they all seem to disappear.
The city is beautiful and gritty and beating. New streets are mine. Places are becoming nothing but memories, people becoming strangers. Strangers becoming friends. Empty spaces filled only in my heart.
Life needs more candles and prayer, walks over bridges, moments of silence and skyline sunsets and sunrises.
A moth flew in through two inches of open window and took refuge on the air conditioner that I think is broken that has been turned off for three days because it is so nice outside and gets just cool enough at night to make blankets feel really good.
My breath is changing, blossoming in city air, catching at moments. But there is always another inhale. Sometimes I have cloud-lungs of sorrow. Sometimes I think I can feel the lung collapsing that the doctor told me is already partially collapsed and isn't a big deal even though it sounds like it is.
French toast is a good temporary cure for inhumanity, coffee makes me feel like a person.
I have romantically disorienting dreams that make me confuse unsettling fiction with unsettling reality.
Home is a familiar stranger and an empty space, 70 new people and change.
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