I've spent a huge chunk of the past two days in the library. Yesterday, I found this piece of scrap paper abandoned on the windowsill next to my desk. I feel very lucky to have found it.
Sunday. Driving back from Point Pleasant...I'm talking...A LOT. I make a comment referencing something I said earlier. Eric is clueless. "But," I say, "I mentioned that a few minutes ago."
"What do you think I am?" he asks. "Your external modem?"
Sometimes I become too private and aloof a lot of the time I can't explain what I feel it's complicated, when you feel nothing and everything at the same time
I'm not serious, unless I need to be I don't know how to be serious so it's damn hard writing this
I put friends ahead of myself, it's just the way I am