i am home,
freshly red. the products amy put in my hair, combined, make my head smell like candy. now there is a fly careening into the top of me every ten seconds. it is this one same fly in particular.
campus is seething with the returning hordes. the returning hordes are at once utterly beneath me & comprehensively intimdating to me.
there is not even a week left to september. on michaelmas i will go to sunday mass & say a premature goodbye to the month, be happy that i have become the kind of person i suddenly am: someone who doesn't need all the damn self-torture to feel interesting & strong.
it is getting cooler, too, which makes me look forward to soups & more nights like last night: sitting under the christmas lights with jeff, playing �famous blue raincoat�, listening to the soft sad guitar echo all through the big glam room.
