2002-08-15 - 1:19 a.m.
2002-08-15 - 1:19 a.m.
why doesn't the summer smell the same anymore? i went for a walk the other night, by myself. i should have been sleeping, but my mind was elsewhere. everything seems muted. it reminded me of a black and white movie, no colors. all gray.
and it just wasn't right. part of me feels like there is a part of my life missing. otherwise known as
you.
and i think that the summer would smell like summer again if you were there to hold my hand. but then i feel embarrassed that i am so superficial, and i go back to pretending it is something much more complex than
you.
i find it ironic that in my head, my problems seem too complicated for words, and yet somehow simply slicing my upper arm makes it all feel better.
"what would we tell our kids?"
i called your house even though i knew you weren't home. i just wanted to hear your voice on your answering machine.
beep.
i am lonely. will you be my friend? let's go feed the ducks. i'll bring the stale bread in my backpack. then i'll buy you ice cream and smile at you, while you play with your hair and giggle because you don't know me very well yet.
it will be fun.
i promise.