Sometimes when I wake up, remembering reality becomes a relief. The process begins and it gets whispered into my ear that leaving is a good thing, the best thing perhaps. But sometimes, when I remember it all, I willingly admit it's a shitty disappointment. That's what it is like these days.
Everybody asks about Now, and I can never quite find the words to explain it. Life is good. I miss home terribly, but I'm getting by here. There are a handful of beautiful people I keep in my pocket, and everyone else shuffles past with their neon rave pants and odd ways of thinking. It's sort of reassuring, but I've forgotten how to scream.
Gabrielle (left) and I at Harry's party last September. I can't believe it's been a year since we sat by the pool and swayed to Coldplay and fiddled with his Lord of the Rings silver pewter chess set. If I listen carefully I can still hear Soulja Boy in the background and the sounds of their feet as they attempt to superman dat Robocop. This photograph was taken just moments before Sam and Stefano bellyflopped and drenched my camera with chlorinated water and droplets of nonexistent clarity. They say those were the good old days.
Three hundred and sixty five sometimes only feels like one.
Holy macaroni, this is long. Sorry for the frivolous sap post. I swear this is only because I'm talking nostalgia with Gabs, and I don't have Aaron to complain to tonight. Aaron Coelho, come back from biology camp. Who else will lecture me for using up a day's worth of hot water?
On a brighter note, it's the first day of spring, and Chelsea beat Burnley 3-0. Hahaha. Life is great.