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sensory overload

Can’t even inhale the scent of this perfume without thinking of New York.

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fading nostalgia

My left thigh is dotted with little scabs from when Babycat would sit on my lap and something would scare him, sending him leaping off my legs, taking tiny pieces of my skin with him.

I miss New York. I miss my friends there.

Uh, by friends, I don’t just mean the cats. It is kind of sad that I feel I have to clarify, though, heh.

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5th of April, 1997

We said goodbye to our friend and began our two-mile walk home. Jeez, it was so fucking hot outside. The sun beat down on the back of my neck as I was sure it did the same to Dan’s. That didn’t stop us from holding hands. Cos that’s what you were supposed to do with someone of whom you were “going out” with exclusively. There were times when our hands got way too sweaty, and we’d have to wipe our palms on our jeans. He’d laugh, and I’d giggle nervously as he put my hand back in his again.

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from a really old diaryland entry

Tuesday, Jan. 14, 2003 9:58 a.m.
because it’s only foggy.

I want a winter that feels like winter.

I want to sit by the fire and drink peppermint hot chocolate. I want to go ice skating and wear my matching scarf and mittens and play in the snow. I want to throw a snowball at you. I want to see my breath disappear right before it reaches your face as I lean in for a kiss.

I think I just want too much.

And yet I still want too much.