Smiling.
That's what I was doing in my dream. I wake up, stretching and tired and sleepy but happy. I can't remember my dream ... but my mind is roving and it lands on Pen and I remember that I dreamed about him, and in my dream I was going to see him again and he gave me a hug and a smile and wasn't forgotten or changed and this time I was the one who walked away, knowing someone'd be there if I turned around. Well, joy.
I hate dreams like that.
WELL, I thought that I wasn't going to spill all of my sadness and secrets on this blog, but I suppose I have already so I might as well continue, or I'll feel bottled up and things I bottle up are not things I want to keep holding onto. {-_- Yeah Pen.}
So I'm trying to be lighthearted, but it's another snappy day and even sitting here alone listening to music isn't cheering me up.
I guess this is narcissism, but it's easy to write about me. I'm dramatic. I make things dramatic. It is not as fun as it looks.
Today there was fog everywhere, which was nice because it seems the inversion's over, and then it started raining.
Usually I love rain and I am out there with or without an umbrella and dancing and singing but today I didn't even want to get out of the car, 'cause I wanted to lean my head against the window and sleep and close my eyes from this world that tosses all these feelings my way like nostalgia for someone who doesn't feel it for me.
Actually, though, me and Pen were just friends. But sometimes it's hard to let someone go, especially when you treasured their laugh and that certain kind of sunshine that you haven't felt in more than eighteen months ... and memory gets warped, but Georgie calls mine a stalker memory because I remember so much.
She laughs when she says stalker memory, and it's true, so I don't.
That's what I was doing in my dream. I wake up, stretching and tired and sleepy but happy. I can't remember my dream ... but my mind is roving and it lands on Pen and I remember that I dreamed about him, and in my dream I was going to see him again and he gave me a hug and a smile and wasn't forgotten or changed and this time I was the one who walked away, knowing someone'd be there if I turned around. Well, joy.
WELL, I thought that I wasn't going to spill all of my sadness and secrets on this blog, but I suppose I have already so I might as well continue, or I'll feel bottled up and things I bottle up are not things I want to keep holding onto. {-_- Yeah Pen.}
So I'm trying to be lighthearted, but it's another snappy day and even sitting here alone listening to music isn't cheering me up.
Today there was fog everywhere, which was nice because it seems the inversion's over, and then it started raining.
Usually I love rain and I am out there with or without an umbrella and dancing and singing but today I didn't even want to get out of the car, 'cause I wanted to lean my head against the window and sleep and close my eyes from this world that tosses all these feelings my way like nostalgia for someone who doesn't feel it for me.
Actually, though, me and Pen were just friends. But sometimes it's hard to let someone go, especially when you treasured their laugh and that certain kind of sunshine that you haven't felt in more than eighteen months ... and memory gets warped, but Georgie calls mine a stalker memory because I remember so much.
She laughs when she says stalker memory, and it's true, so I don't.
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