miss you friends

lorazepam hangover

We're sitting here in the sun, Jason, Paige and Victoria are stretched out in various rocking chairs. After shotgunning a few beers in the name of nostalgia we've settled into smoking and offering clever jabs in response to whoever attempts a conversation. Victoria just put on Smokey Robinson, everyone gardening in their yards are singing to the record under their breath. You'd think, listening to us talk, that we hated each other. The comfort that comes along with knowing someone for years, speaking openly of what you call their flaws, and making light of it. If feel so often lately as if I don't really care for anyone. Lauren Barclay is off in the world, I never see Kelly or Virginia, or even my mother. But in that one second when paige stepped off the curb outside of the airport, and into my car, my heart just came alive. It sounds silly, typing it here but i know, without any doubt, that there are people that are supposed to be with me. We discovered each other, called our relationships however fleeting, and then realized months later that the kind of connections we'd had were irreplaceable. Wherever you are, I miss you, I need you. You''re absolutely different than anyone i've ever met before and I look forward to when you come to your senses and return to me.

A) Confession

So i rarely write anymore, which is something that pains me. I've never quite been insecure enough to call myself an artist but I liked words and for the most part, they liked me. I just find it most unfortunate that whilst i lived in a hometown, and was under such an unsteady constitution, i wrote so much, and so much better. Now, Here I am, In seattle, and for 8 months I've not read an entire book, not written so much as a journal entry. Yesterday we all doubled up on the lorazapane and walked for hours in the aboreum. i was stationed above my friend, in the highest branches of a maple tree when I realized that I need to start making an effort. So i'm going to try to finish the novella I started. I'm halfway through War and Peace, and with any luck I'll be creative again one day.

The Apartment

This room was my favorite, out of the many rooms i've loved, before and since. The walls constructed entirely out of windows, those windows surrounded entirely by trees. The sun would shine and since a great time had come to pass since the house itself had been built, the windows would stick themselves open or shut and allow the wind to pass through. and i'd sit alone, drinking wine, with the little black notebook i'd been given by my former...lover. and i'd write love letters to all the people i'd ever known.