aimless, afternoon vignettes

hum.
and how defeated i return.
skip skip skip sliding.

flirting with disaster, and loving it.
still wishing i could capture chords in words.
oh, my little girl.

this is an exquisite, unrivaled, dark beauty.
everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt, and the dance of strengthening light and its interplay on late afternoon dust.
pipers yellow silhouette against impeccable blue dusk, and huddled within the confines of yasi's shirt.
wait
wait
wait
descend now, but slowly, guided by each step. each... slip.
"its so raw. so real. SO honest. that album.. oh man"
"you absolutely put your finger on it.. it so fully and accurately captures so much.."

i have fallen into a beautiful melee from which i hope never to return.
of all the parts of myself i denied, the loss of this....
when was the last time music affected me so deeply?

"haha, 'and i'll live without your love but, what good is one glove... without the other.' i'm so glad you actually listened to it. when i say that album has saved my life, i mean it more than i've ever meant anything. and ps.. i knew you'd love it. some things you just know."

and you'd better be alone.

come and whisper in my ear,
you're very pretty dear
and,
it'll be alright.

you're lying, but i don't mind tonight.

(The bluest iris that I'd ever seen
SHe vanished like a dream, sinking back
Into the ground
Singing "maybe i'm ashamed and maybe I wept real tears"
But maybe she was hiding because she wanted to be found
You wanted to be found!

Don't be afraid of him.
Be still.)

what are you holding out for? what's always in the way?
, on 3 day lessons,
i suppose thursday is the best place to begin, and a light haired blue eyed girl clacking in miniscule heels down a rain drenched sidewalk, long brown coat swishing around spindly calves, umbrella slung over one shoulder, rain running in rivulets, pooling underneath her feet. clambering into bed, i pull my headphones on over my ears, drowning out the world with bloc party, the rapture, and johnny flynn, wallowing in my own transition.
not 30 minutes later, my phone rings and yasi's voice is lilting through my ears "oh for gods sake you are so emo," she laughs "get up, get dressed, its evans birthday and we're going to zeno's".
sweep my mess away, leave my body leave my bones
i'm nervous and terrified, dons going to be there after all, but i'm dressed impeccably, the corners of my eyes dusted with sparkles and black powder, legs marginally slim under my black jeans, the corner of one collar bone peeking out from beneath my violet, sweeping sweater. theres nine of us sitting around the center table, sipping german beer as evan and i recreate photogenic moments in front of a non existent camera, singing along to atlas soundtrack, a band i haven't heard since i tripped at chucks farm and the music is so reminiscent as i begin to feel slightly tipsy, desiring to tumble into its intoxicating enormity and don is texting me from across the table "your faces are priceless."

you wouldn't put your pen to bed, but we hadn't found our own
its about accepting and developing my own reality, after all. as i drop yasi and evan back off at her place, and return to my tiny bedroom, alone, i am crushed.
its about,
no no, rewind.
its thursday morning and amy and i are sipping coffee on her family room floor and we're speaking of dissatisfaction and retarding growth and its my housing situation thats the topic of conversation i honestly don't know what to do and i tell her that "amy, please, i really dont' know, i can convince myself either way and i dont know which are my deceptions and which is the reality and i don't want to make the wrong decision.. help me.."
"i think that," she begins "you know the right answer. and that its time to stop choosing things that keep you safe, that allow you to remain in one, comfortable place."
she's right.
thank you for knowing me better than myself.

out out out its friday morning and i need to get out and chelsea and i disappear into the wilderness surrounding state college and run off into the woods around whipple dam. we're off the path and barefoot, sliding down 60 foot creek faces and splashing through the water and giggling about tree bottoms and mud and i drawl "i just, i really see nature as metaphorical of life.."
its about remaining patient even when you near the end
about venturing off the path to find something beautiful, even if its anxiety inducing. it will always be there to come back to, after all.
and how the view from the top of a long, arduous climb, is always worth the effort it took to get there.

you help me put the breaks on, because you're kind.
i wonder where you learned to be so good
its about yasi, amy and i shrouded in the dust of an old, cramped glass shop, smoking cigarettes on my porch, and how no matter what we're doing yasi makes me laugh SO HARD and as my roommates are all crowded around with us we're all laughing, all us girls, giggling like school children.
or, 3 hours later, dissolving within underoath on yasi's bed and the conversation between the three of us is causing my heart to flutter, warming. we're talking of insanity, of feeling, "we're all crazy" yasi smiles "i have these wild fits at least once a year where i just need to scream and scream and scream. its NATURAL, all these things that have been defined as abnormal. its natural and wonderful and beautiful to just want to scream and scream and scream and throw a tantrum and feel sad and feel blissfully manically happy and why would you want to deny that to yourself? to deny the ability to just want to experience the world in as large handfuls as you can grab?" ok so maybe that sentence was my words in yasi's mouth, but that was essentially the jist of the conversation, and i really do have the best friends in the whole world.
you've got me, you've got me, you've got me stole....

and now its bar bleu and its one of those nights that everyones there, don and evan again and for the love of jesus no way is it zack, conyers and hacker, standing outside smoking cigarettes and i race across the street, coat billowing out behind me and wrap them all up in my arms and the four of us, that is, me yasi zack and conyers curl up in this swanky corner with all these leather lounges and we're all sipping from the same pitcher of liquor and laughing and trading stories
"jamie do you remember that night that we went in your roommates hot tub?" zack is blushing and smiling and touching me indiscreetly and i just feel so tender and vulnerable all the time,
"you mean the night i got maced and then we both tumbled four feet to our demise?"
we're warm and cozy and happy.
and then we're dancing to low jack, and conyers is laughing "i'm really just a terrible dancer" he drawls, letting loose with a bunch of air punches "lets leave soon and smoke, do you want to do that?"
and then its zack and i, in a corner. hugging once, twice, three times. "i miss you." he whispers, into the skin behind my ear.

and then its one in the morning and conyers and i are lounged out on their sofa.
"do you remember freshman year?"
we're so high and laughing and its just the two of us
"oh my god" he begins "freshman year was basically this. get 8 or so friends together in one room, drink as much as possible as fast and possible and then blast music and have a crazy dance party, pass out, get up and do it all again."
i'm laughing
"we're all so old now god i could never do that anymore...."
"it was great while it lasted though, wasn't it?"



and how this morning, i was up early.
to see my new apartment.
its beautiful. the perfect size for me, with three huge windows in the living room, and little tiny kitchen with a window over the sink and its set away from downtown, in this little woodland haven, with round cement steps leading up to the building and as i left, clutching paper work in my hand, i let my steps fall slowly in descent, imagining myself, months from now, when that simple, solitary life is at last mine.
sitting on yasi's bed last night, amy is clasping my hand "what are you most proud of?" she asks "its been a year since you broke up with alex.. what would would say is your greatest achievement, since then."
i smile, a year.
"i used to be reckless" i begin "but it was always ok, because i had the security of a relationship to come back to, to calm me, to remind me of my center. and i've finally created that for myself. it was worth every, treacherous second."
yasi smiles, "i really am proud of you, jamie. 4 years on and off with a person.. you've come through the backlash with more grace than anyone i've ever seen. made more progress than most people would. its inspiring."
i grin, blushing into my scarf.

this morning, i turn the music up.
johnny flynns guitar is dancing through my ears.
Did you see how far I'd been? Would you meet me in an hour? I could tell you what I've seen,

Have a heart that skips a beat
Oh come on
Roll along for free
In the middle of the morning
Swap your drinking nights with me

I can live with dying
I can chew my bit
Play panic to my senses
And hijack my head
It's the rhythm of moving
And a rolling and a rattle
Its a giving instead
It's a well sprung bed
We can roll around forever
We can pray for all we've been
We can knock it hell for leather
We can call it all a dream
All a dream

For your outward bound
Remember what we found


now, put on no sex for ben, by the rapture, (http://www.myspace.com/therapture) and bop your heart out.
one, two, three, here we go..

i like to watch my lovebird in the afternoons.
I just brought him back to school about 2 weeks ago, so everything in this setting is new for him, and his current favorite pasttime involves sitting on my lampshade next to the huge window that takes up about half of my bedroom wall, watching things happen outside. He's always real scared at first, chirping incessantly, flying away in terror at the passage of any car. Soon, though, he begins to settle, messing around with the jewelry hanging from the window. Then, something scares him again, and he's off in a tirade chirping chirping chirping tearing around my room in a frenzy like a right nut job, until i gather him up in my palm, holding his ferociously beating heart close to my chest, whispering into his feathers until he settles, when i then release him to perch on my folded knee. preening himself, he settles into contentment, winded and sleepy after his wild adventure.
he's sitting there now, fluffed up and calmed, glancing back over his shoulder at me through half opened eyes.



in ten minutes though, he'll be at it again, he can't get enough of that world, and when he's frightened i'll tuck him again close to my heart, allowing his realized fears to drain away with the lulling cadence of my voice.

he's a bird after my own heart, after all.

resolution.
spending most of my time in isolation and remaining balanced with just the right influx of johnny flynn, satine, and the rapture.
but that doesn't stop me from leaping in bed with abby and chelsea for the season finale of jon and kate plus 8, or wearing blatant red today. this is a tricky one. lets hope i emerge with pages of insight. or, at the very least, some schoolwork accomplished.

what of all those wayward priests?
the ones who like to drink?
do you suppose they'd swap their blood for wine?
like you swapped yours for ink?
you wrote me oh so many letters
and all of them seemed true
promises look good on paper, especially from you
the weight of all those willing words, i carried all alone
you wouldn't put your pen to bed, but we hadn't found our own.

its far too cold today to be able to enjoy the clarity of the light, and instead i've spent the past two days with headphones pressed to my ears, exploring the wonderful world of take away shows and falling in love with a world of music i never knew existed.
most specifically, johnny flynn. he sings to the mood i'm in, slightly melancholy, but still holding to a fading glimmer of hope.
theres no reason for it, honestly. most likely just a chemical inbalance and the errant longing for something warm.


leave me nothing i dont need at all.

edit, i've noticed i dont save anything anymore, really.
textmessages, im conversations, pictures.
i'm all about deleting.
i'm not sure if this is a good change, or a bad one. either way, theyre deleted.

ca-me-ohhhhh.
there there you are, there again.
staring through the street when the lights are dim
i wonder why you are there
i'll wait, i saw you again, your gossamer skin....


2 hours ago, my phone begins to ring.
for the first time in seven months,

it was alex.
i wonder why it is therrrre oh wait, i saw you again, your gossamer skin, i saw you cameo...

i'm looking at pictures from that time and thinking of emptiness.

i'm holding a wine bottle in my hands, drinking the all of it. i used to drink to feel free because it was only then that i had the courage to not care about alexs restrictions and i'm remembering clambering up onto the railing of the harbor in san fransisco in the deep hush of night while alex and his friends were smoking two blunts, huddled in a circle behind me.
"girlfriend, get down, what are you doing"

the wooden railing was damp beneath my hands and i'm mesmerized by the spray of salt and sea and wind on my face and the endlessness of the bay beneath me and the endlessness of the sky above me and i leaned just a little farther just a little farther climbed a little higher just a little higher,
"baby come sit down"
will somebody stop this train?

copper beech and all i remember is this moment is brilliantly illuminated it must have been fall for it couldn't have been spring and alex and i always got so high together on incredible weed and we're in bed beneath my light teal comforter and this briliant gold sunlight is streaming in through my gold curtains and everything is shimmering and shifting and expanding as if i'm tripping and i'm gripping to his bare shoulders holding tight to his silhouette without him everything was to lose substance and soliditiy and whirl away in a hush of color motion fire destination unknown.
holding tight
holding tight
holding tight
"and the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to bloom"
i dont think i'm gonna go to l.a. anymore
i dont know how to land and not race to your door.

"i'm so afraid of getting older, i'm only good at being young"
why am i even still writing about him.
in 8 days, it will have been a year, apart. 7 months since we last spoke. is that long, in the grand scheme of things?
"for there can be no absolute understanding of what we are as persons, and this in two obvious respects. a being who exists only in self-interpretation cannot be understood absolutely; and one who can only be understood against the background of distinctions of words cannot be captured by a scientific language which essentially aspires to neutrality. out personhood cannot be treated scientifically in exactly the same way we approach our organic being."

my thoughts this morning are aimless, directionless.

ask me about yesterday and i'll tell you about watching the rose sunset through the trees over sig chi's rooftop, glimmering in the resplendence of orange, pink, lavender, light blue.
i'll tell you about my roommates sprawled on the lawn on top of old comforters, tanning, laughing, gossiping.
and how the air right now is honestly the perfect smell.
i'll laugh as i attempt to describe tricking yasi into distracting me from my school work, delving into one of our endless conversations of analyzation of all the people we've ever known and loved, and how my entire being flushed crimson as my sexy professor walked by, beaming, waving and calling out springtime afternoon greetings as i crumbled like an awkward little girl.
there'll probably be a cliche or two in there as well, about garrett pulling his old clunky car in my driveway "did you hear the brakes?" he laughs, as he clambers over the wrought iron fence, shaking his lengthening hair from his face and settling himself into the chair opposite me.
i'll remind you to look back at the sunset, its becoming more vibrant by the second.
truth be told i still haven't even made a slight dent in the mountains and mountains of essential school work looming before me, but i relished in the brush of cool cement on bare feet, the hush of breeze on bare skin, the laughter of camraderie.
my past few days have been composed of nothing other than deep, revealing and emotional conversations with my nearest and dearest. one by one, each of my oldest friends and my newest roommates have settled themselves singularly across from me, unraveling.


it has been one of the most beautiful experiences of my life.
i'm not sure how all this happened, really.
but nothing has ever felt more right.
how did i make it here? i couldn't tell you.
but i'm home.


(edit)
the light is perfect.
as is headphones pressed to my ears, the live version of john mayers "in your atmosphere" lilting on repeat through my ears.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q7FP5R2EOwc

thinking of kyle and moving forward.
as i let slip to armani through tear filled eyes "this feels like a letting go"
wherever i go, whatever i do, i wonder where i am in my relationship to you.

blushing, hesitance, flirtation.
curled up, cigarette in hand outside his apartment building, talking philosophy and listening to the sounds of errant drunk college students setting off fireworks in the distance. we're slipping sideways glances and testing the boundaries of one of my most longstanding friendships, experimenting with the inflection and interplay of words and smiles. he still reminds me of a boy, and yet i long to kiss him again the same way i did when i first met him, imagining the hush of violet lips and the tenderness of his still innocent love. his kiss did turn out to be just the way i'd imagined it, after all.
i know these are only the errant musings of a lonely girl, but he really is the person who provides me with comfort. we provide each other equally, with comfort. i know that comfort isn't love, but some nights i like to pretend it could be.
i'm starting to feel like i would love nothing more, to be honest.

i looked up and realized i was sitting in a photograph.

its night and its cold and yasi and I are standing out on the curb in front of her apartment complex and my heart is breaking as I watch tears of frustration, of resignation, of the old bitter yasi she and i so desperately fear welling up behind her hazel eyes and i'm employing all my strength from the months previous, tossing my lessons at her one by one in the hopes of keeping her here.
holding her hands "its been two months yasi. and sure, its lonely, and sure sometimes all you want is to cuddle, but look at me! i've been single for an entire year. i barricaded myself away in 719 and lost my ability to communicate and socialize and started sleeping with brandon of all people and wrapped myself up in those silly girls if only to abate my loneliness and i wish to god i hadn't. i took the first step with such singular bravery and i wish i had taken every requisite step that way. life is ALWAYS right and if its not here you're not ready. its time to stop sitting around, waiting for other people to hand you happiness. happines is BUILT, not hand delivered, built from blood, from sweat from tears. its begun from the very bottom, from the dirt, from the depths of the earth and polished and polished until it glimmers in the spring sunlight. and it is only when it is made of your authenticity, of sadness lived to the fullest, of anxiety examined from all angles, of despair completely submitted to, that you will realize its truth. when it is your own, it will never be taken from you again. stop going back and feeling inadequate because you can't make the past fit your present. its here, and its now, and its better than all of that. use your energy to drive forward. trust me, yasi. have i ever led you wrong?"
we interlock pinkies, kissing our hands "ok." she says, her face alighting "as long as you promise me you'll stick to your own advice."
i smile. "of course. i wouldn't dream of anything else."

i drove home, exhausted, and slightly wounded. i absorb others anxieties, after all, and had no energy for anything other than sleep, hoping the night would flush yasi's anxieties from my body, but was still fairly off kilter when the gray morning sun alit upon my face.
until.
facebook, inbox.

Abby

Today at 7:40am

okay so forget how dumb i am for a second and read what happened with auggie and i last night. After having this conversation with him, i tried to make myself not cry or get upset, but then i heard your voice (creepy?nahh) telling me it was okay to cry so I let it all out and cried into my pillow for a good half hour. This morning i woke up with ugly, swollen eyes, but the good thing is that i'm glad i did. i'm glad i chose to take the emotion i was feeling and run with it. have a good day Jamie Pounds! I love youu! ♥



maybe, just maybe, i really am using all my suffering to open the eyes of others.
and this morning, it really does make it all seem worthwhile.
my routine continues. i shower, make coffee, clean up the kitchen. sweep into my bedroom and kiss piper on the beak. water my plants. prepare for the day, for cognitive psychology and french and modern philosophy. for hours spent in the library catching up on reading and watching the day brighten. for the anticipation of watching my cell phone, waiting for text messages to make me blush. for delicate wrists and soft fabric. for decompressing, allowing my roommates to bring me back to earth, if only for a brief visit. for tenderness. for vulnerability. for patience. for love.

tip of the day - read Vita Nova, by Louise Gluck
and download Losing Haringey, by the Clientele.
and deep serenity flooded through me,
such as you feel when the world can't touch you.
beyond this invisible bed, light
of late summer in the little street,
between flickering ash trees.
when the dream changed, adding, you could say,
a dimension of hope. it was
a beautiful dream, my life was small and sweet, the world
broadly visible because remote.
the dream showed me how to have it again
by being safe from it. it showed me
sleeping in my old bed, first stars
shining through bare ash trees.
i have been lifted and carried far away
into a luminous city. is this what having means,
to look down on? or is this dreaming still?
i was right, wasn't i, choosing
against the ground?


and, because this is because of you..every day.
ask her what she remembers.
i noticed nothing. i noticed
i was trembling
ask her if the fire hurts.
i remember we were together
and gradually i understood
that though neither of us ever moved
we were not together but profoundly separate.
as her if the fire hurts
you expect to live forever with your husband
in fire more durable than the world.
i suppose this wish was granted,
where we are now being both
fire and eternity.
do you regret your life?
even before i was touched, i belonged to you;
you had only to look at me.

thank you, my own savior.

admission,
i've been feeling anxious since arriving back at school. not anxious, really. uncomfortable, more. insomuch as everything is ALMOST right, and yet not. i'd almost rather it be completely wrong than this half step midway so close to almost. all weekend you'd find me, bored, unmotivated, "luxuriating", and yet not, leaping from the shower in a panic that i'd left my bedroom door open and the cats were devouring my bird, rewashing my sheets, painstakingly reorganizing my newly renovated bedroom, intent on arranging my food just so..

something needs to be examined.
what am i talking about?!

this is about vulnerability and the feeling of uncomfortableness that accompanies it. about sitting across the kitchen table from armani sunday morning with my knees pulled to my chest "i just feel so tender, all the time" i hush, almost embarassed. about needing to listen to pulse this morning as I left the gym, about curling up in my new cozy bed and never wanting to leave. its UNCOMFORTABLE to truly feel things. i lean my head back against my bed "if you're not uncomfortable, you're not growing."

i spent all day yesterday, from morning til sleep reading Civilization and its Discontents, by Freud. although I can't say I agree with many of the conclusions he drew, his initial observations of the human psyche were very intriguing, and it was the first time in a while i can say that I honestly couldn't put the book down and i've been craving to find someone to TALK to about it. its all what I've been going through this year, the parallel of individual development to cultural development and whether or not human nature is good or bad and what its like for an individual to become civilized, introduced into the world of others. for thats what happened to me this year, after all. i was plucked from my haven of isolation and thrust into this world of needs and wants and desires and everything is so different and so varied and so demanding and for a girl so full of love i tried to love everything equally and maybe thats not the point, really.
"the first time we hear "thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself", we shall be unable to suppress a feeling of surprise and bewilderment. why should we do it? what good will it do us? but, above all, how shall we achieve it? how can it be possible? my love is something valuable to me which i ought not to throw away without reflection. it imposes duties on me for whose fulfilment i must be ready to make sacrifices. if i love someone, he must deserve it in some way. he deserves it if he is so like me in important ways that i can love myself in him, and he desereves it if he is so much more perfect than myself that i can love my ideal of my own self in him. but if he is a stranger to me, and if he cannot attract me by any worth of his own or any significance that he may already have acquired for my emotional life, it will be hard for me to love him. indeed, i should be wrong to do so, for my love is valued by all my own people as a sign of preferring them, and it is an injustice to them if i put a stranger on par with them."



but i knew that, already. or was starting to come to that realization myself, or knew it all along and yet chose not to live it. either way, what was most entrancing about this book...
(flashback. its summer. armani and i are in the park by copper beech, having taken a hit of acid each and at this point, i'm tripping quite hard, in all honesty, and i don't know where to go, what to do. i lie on my back in the grass, closing my eyes, let it take me where it will. while i don't remember the specifics of what happened out there, under the trees, buried in the foliage, i know that one by one, i faced each twisted aspect of myself, one by one, examining all my faults in their nuances and letting them fall away, one by one. destruction. i emerged from that park, bettered, changed. )
what am i talking about?
this is about guilt. about repression of ones instincts. about, at its basis, love and death.
how do i describe this?
"That is to say, as well as Eros, there was an instinct of death. It was not easy, hoewever to demonstrate the activities of this supposed death instinct. the manifestations of eros were conspicuous and noisy enough. it might be assumed that the death instinct operated silently within the organism towards its dissolution, but that, of course, was no proof. a more fruitful idea was that a portion of the instinct is diverted towards the external world and comes to light as an instinct of aggressiveness and destructiveness. in this way, the instinct itself could be pressed into the service of eros, in that the organism was destroying some other thing, whether animate or inanimate, instead of destroying its own self. the two kinds of instinct seldom - perhaps never - appear in isolation from each other, but are alloyed with each other in varying and very different proportions, and so become unrecognizable to our judgment"
scribbled in the back blank pages of the book, i wrote; the dual instincts of myself are revelaed in their true character, experienced to the extent. death and eros. and it is now, that i've been witness to them both, that i can properly align and balance them in order to make use of the varying and intense powers of BOTH of them.
my favorite song last spring, my favorite song still, is the remix of Radiohead's Faust. so i suppose, in the spirit of full circle, i'll use Goethe's word, from the songs namesake poem.
[for all things, from the void
called forth, deserve to be destroyed...
thus, all which you as sin have rated -
destruction - aught with evil blent -
that is my proper element]
[from water, earth and air unfolding
a thousand germs break forth and grow
in dry, and wet, and warm, and chilly
and had i not the flame reserved, why, really,
there's nothing special of my own to show].

this is not about elimination, but AWARENESS. my relationship with alex was a reflection of my own destructive drive. we balanced each other so well because he was death, i, eros. but in the end, we had pushed each other so far to our opposite poles that it became impossible to relate to remain together. with the split of our relationship, i became responsible for the full burden of BOTH drives, something i had never yet experienced, and which was bound to be disconcerting. spring 08 was eros in its full bodied glimmering form, while fall 08 was my destructiveness diverted from relationships and turned on myself.
so here i am, outset.
empowered by the forces of both.
"men know this, and hence comes a large part of their current unrest, their unhappiness and their mood of anxiety. and now it is to be expected that the other of the two 'heavenly powers' , eternal eros, will make an effort to assert himself in the struggle with his equally immortal adversary. but who can foresee with what success and with what result?"

i'm sitting on my side porch, smoking a cigarette, watching the clearest sunset i've seen in ages, allowing a cool breeze its interplay between my glimmering blonde curls and gray scarf wrapped around my bare chest. full circle.

behind my teeth, reaching for my scars...

i'm beginning to feel like this has all been one big test of faith.


oh first you go under, then coming up gives you the bends
and when you break the surface, all you can see is your friends
so grab your purple crayon and flesh out the picture behind
and finally, the whole world is made of one unbroken line.

and you and i both know how to drink
so we will always have work in this town.

so lets pull up a bar stool and get ourselves a ringside seat..


i've done nothing all break but lounge around with my mom, listen to ani difranco, and read marilyn hacker.
i think of it as back building, and have come to relish these times in my life, resting places, positions of reflection and preparation for an unknown future. everything is in flux, transition. the past two months were a manic up down dash of depression exaltation depression exaltation lesson lesson lesson better learn it quick because its not going to abate until you face it all, resolve it all, EXPERIENCE IT to know it.
this, now, is nice. healthy home cooked meals, cozy sofas, cute pups to cuddle with and text messages from a new crush interest sipping wine in the florida sunshine. i could get used to this.
love is all over the place.. there's nothing wrong with your face..