so I'll brush my teeth and think of you, looking at photographic ghosts of your past, our past, but we didn't know each other yet. 


that one day in a green room filled with sunlight, I, unintentionally, became a tool of your procrastination and we talked about books we've read and our childhood and books in our childhood and how they are really one and the same.


I used to draw horses obsessively, now I obsessively draw faces everywhere, because they are all around, always following, always watching I don't know what but it doesn't really matter because it's not usually me I don't think. we talked about the horses but not the faces and that's just fine.

the seventy-six bones of the axial skeleton

I can name them.  Well, most of them.  Remembering all of the facial bones is hard.  Maxilla, mandible, two nasal, (two?) vomer...that's all I've got.  Ethnoid? That's one, right?

Let's pretend that I have been writing consistently, as per usual.  Let's also pretend that I don't have oh, say, around one hundred really dense pages to read for one class tomorrow, and that I don't have any other work for my other classes tomorrow.  

Let's pretend that college is easier than I thought it would be.

Now that that's settled. [acknowledgement of intentional sentence fragment/delusions] 

I was briefly thinking about doing the thing where you write a whole novel during the month of November, but then, I stopped thinking about it.  Then I thought about how November isn't over yet.  Then I thought about how it would actually be kind of insane to start now, considering I don't have any ideas for a novel.  Then I thought about how if I ate another bite of raw spinach and chickpeas, I would throw up.  I did it.  I didn't throw up though.

Usually this is the point where I ask myself some sort of abstract question that I've been thinking about.  There are too many right now to even begin.

I miss doing this, writing.  I need this to be okay, and I haven't been keeping myself okay.  I am cheery on the telephone. "Everything's great, classes are great, I'm totally on top of everything," I believe it when I say it.  It's mostly true, except for the end bit.  I'm sort of on top of some things.  

I I I

I'm sure this is fascinating.  

It would be funny if someone read this and fell in love with me.  Sometimes I read things and fall in love with people for a few minutes.  It happened a couple of months ago, but I got over it after a day or two.  It probably wasn't love; it was just that aching in your chest when you want someone to be something, better maybe, or know that there are other people in the world who feel the same way as they do.  That's kind of how I interpret love.  I've never been in love with anyone, but I think that that's how it would feel for me.  I think I would need to read something they wrote that they didn't want to share with anyone in order to fall in love with a person.

I don't really know where to go from there, except to say that I will write more. But not for you, for me.  It's kind of a selfish thing right now.