the music keeps on playing on and on
summer crept up like a water bug from the garbage disposal. eerily quick and somewhat disgusting.
i'm sticky with humidity and a dank sort of ever-lingering perspiration that has a preference for cotton clothing. the wind rustles tree leaves but doesn't have the strength to move through the millimeter-sized square holes in the screens of aluminum. another summer. five years have passed since i began this journal. five years ago mike walked out of ottawa forever. five years ago the person i will marry was just another black and white face in the high school yearbook on my bookshelf. five years ago i thought i'd leave and never come back.
i'm here, despite having followed through with those dreams, succeeding in those same aspirations that i so longingly, so desperately typed into this same rectangular text box. and in so many ways i am the same and nothing has changed. my skin still heaves in the heavy summer air. my forehead still glistens with sweat on the same corner of the same intersection, wondering so many of the same things that i did five years ago.
the inability to completely reinvent one's self is oddly comforting.
i'm sticky with humidity and a dank sort of ever-lingering perspiration that has a preference for cotton clothing. the wind rustles tree leaves but doesn't have the strength to move through the millimeter-sized square holes in the screens of aluminum. another summer. five years have passed since i began this journal. five years ago mike walked out of ottawa forever. five years ago the person i will marry was just another black and white face in the high school yearbook on my bookshelf. five years ago i thought i'd leave and never come back.
i'm here, despite having followed through with those dreams, succeeding in those same aspirations that i so longingly, so desperately typed into this same rectangular text box. and in so many ways i am the same and nothing has changed. my skin still heaves in the heavy summer air. my forehead still glistens with sweat on the same corner of the same intersection, wondering so many of the same things that i did five years ago.
the inability to completely reinvent one's self is oddly comforting.