(no subject)
god in so many ways i want to be a kid again
i want to be in ancramdale i want to jump around in the hay barn i want to carve pumpkins and bake the seeds i want to put on my big green boots and wade into the stream i want to roll down the hill in a sleeping bag i want to see my mom make goofy faces at me i want to go on a bike ride i want to wear my bathrobe and sit on the porch and joke around with you like in that picture on my wall
i don't want sophistocation, urban life, elaborate wardrobes
i want the simplicity of a picnic, the way we tried to make sushi once and failed because we didn't use sticky rice, i want to have baking days and mother hunter. i want to run around the seaport playing that game with my mom where we ducked under those big triangular signs. i want to wear a blue ribbon and a striped dress. i want to talk about babbit and kickers.
i don't want cigarettes and sex. i had a dream the other night that they put you and her in a body bag together. they zipped you up and i screamed and i made you promise never to smoke again. they told me you had lung cancer and i said i will never do it again, nobody will if you don't. i made you promise. i don't remember what happened.
i want my orchid to have blossoms again i want to crunch on leaves i want to wear my red and black bathing suit and hear the sound of my friends rooting for me when i gasp for a breath out of water. i want to write to sarah adams.
why is it that all my happy pictures if us are from so many years ago? why don't we ever do anything fun anymore? we don't we see each other anymore? it scares me sometimes that our lives will go in such different directions because you know i would suffocate if anything ever happened to you. i have such happy memories, but why are they always from so long ago?
god i miss you so much, but i don't think you want the same things as me and it's incredibly painful.
i don't want to drive
i don't want to check my email.
i don't want anybody to have a cell phone
i want to run around in lady bug shoes and laura ashley shorts. i want to sleep with blue cover. i want to dress up as alice sandler and laugh like we used to. i remember the days before there were other plans and other people.
i feel so disconnected from my old life. i want it back.
i want to be in ancramdale i want to jump around in the hay barn i want to carve pumpkins and bake the seeds i want to put on my big green boots and wade into the stream i want to roll down the hill in a sleeping bag i want to see my mom make goofy faces at me i want to go on a bike ride i want to wear my bathrobe and sit on the porch and joke around with you like in that picture on my wall
i don't want sophistocation, urban life, elaborate wardrobes
i want the simplicity of a picnic, the way we tried to make sushi once and failed because we didn't use sticky rice, i want to have baking days and mother hunter. i want to run around the seaport playing that game with my mom where we ducked under those big triangular signs. i want to wear a blue ribbon and a striped dress. i want to talk about babbit and kickers.
i don't want cigarettes and sex. i had a dream the other night that they put you and her in a body bag together. they zipped you up and i screamed and i made you promise never to smoke again. they told me you had lung cancer and i said i will never do it again, nobody will if you don't. i made you promise. i don't remember what happened.
i want my orchid to have blossoms again i want to crunch on leaves i want to wear my red and black bathing suit and hear the sound of my friends rooting for me when i gasp for a breath out of water. i want to write to sarah adams.
why is it that all my happy pictures if us are from so many years ago? why don't we ever do anything fun anymore? we don't we see each other anymore? it scares me sometimes that our lives will go in such different directions because you know i would suffocate if anything ever happened to you. i have such happy memories, but why are they always from so long ago?
god i miss you so much, but i don't think you want the same things as me and it's incredibly painful.
i don't want to drive
i don't want to check my email.
i don't want anybody to have a cell phone
i want to run around in lady bug shoes and laura ashley shorts. i want to sleep with blue cover. i want to dress up as alice sandler and laugh like we used to. i remember the days before there were other plans and other people.
i feel so disconnected from my old life. i want it back.