today was sitting on a chair in the sky, beginning a book by someone who inspires me, throwing notes into stranger's laps, drawing ugly pictures, pretending to see windows, being a wild thing, calling a dog, discovering a terebithia, my own seeing reed, perfection in magic, shooting an airsoft gun (for the first time) with a nine year old boy who also showed me his hermit crabs ("Skittles" is the name of the biggest) and lego creations and shelves of books, weightlessness, laughter with my cool friend, and now, excitement for the morrow.

"someday this pain will be useful to you"

I'm starting to think maybe Ovid was a liar.

She sent me a message, the patron saint of hopeless causes.

Dear God, please let this past month or so be the hardest time of my life, because I don't think I can handle anything more than this ever.

I told her the gratefulness is pushing all the bitterness out of my soul.

This anger is so heavy.

I sat on the curb near midnight and feared three things: despair, desperation, and decline.

It hurts like cactus spines sticking into my side, my hand

you're already starting to fade.
in out in out like the tide. every time a little further out.
you're not simply the-person-I've-known-my-whole-life anymore;
you've taken on another dimension.
from words, actions, realizations.
memories and photographs are taking a back seat, now there's only now.
I have favorite photos of you. I have favorite traits of yours. I own things and I love you.
But the waves are taking us different places and I wonder if we'll ever stand on the same shore, side-by-side, once more. I like to imagine someday.

I can cry and exaggerate and dramatize this all too much. Or I can be still and observe and not touch you anymore.

there are more than two sides to every story. remember that.