sometimes i don't even know what to do with myself.
sitting in my room, waiting for the new school year to start, i'm wondering when i'll ever grow up. roughly speaking, i've been in the same situation for a long time - 12 + 4 + now 2 years... and it seems like many more before this aged routine changes.
there are certain things that will always remind me of cheryl: late night conan, 11:11, finding her hair on my pillows, the perfect inner spoon, ben folds, "oh really?"... but this - as others - will fade. sad right now
where do i start?
i've been reading bertrand russell, h.l. mencken, and richard dawkins.