03.20.03 If anyone ever says that they hate war more than I do... they better have a knife. - Jack Handey I don't know what is what anymore. Today I took off to my mother's house because sometimes that comforts me. Still, at 24, I will crawl into her arms... she always smells of summertime & cigarettes... her hands always cold and smooth against my face... and she sings softly... mostly 'Stevie Nicks' shit... I love her. But today there was no time for songs or smokes - it was all about watching CNN and worrying... She worries so much. Enough for everyone that I know. And so I wandered back to my old room. The one that is now painted bright blue and decorated with butterflies. Much livelier now, than my posters & dirty clothes scattered. I spent about an hour back there checking drawers and finding ancient journals (of the paper kind) - another life... & I brought home a photo album from my old closet. I tried to share it with BF because he's in there. But pictures with Adam in them always get a glassy stare from him... I didn't even realize - he's in there too. I don't know what is what. I just don't know anymore.
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