musings from some road trip – choir tour?

And it’s weird that you can only write in second person and that you must start all sentences with “and,” and it’s strange how each sentence becomes profound by doing such things.

You look back to some things you’ve written and you want to blot them out but you cannot because they were once true. This of all places must be honest, because if you lie to yourself or edit yourself in the forum of a diary you will not be able to accept who you once were and what you now are.

And for some reason you now choose words consciously, even here, rejecting passive verbs for those that speak more clearly. You now go back to change a word for something starker or more true – why?

You miss him. That is not the answer to the question, but it is a true thing. And the lyrics of “and then the telephone started ringing ringing ringing on” cut deep and slip into your breath and you smell something in the air that you savor it because it is a reminder, it is a confirmation that he once existed.

And you wonder, How could I have missed this? And you wonder, How could I not have seen?

And it’s beautiful when you awaken and you see the trees clustered and the ground soft with tall grass and the sky, the sky that is like dove wings, the sky that is high and calm in its grey dignity.

once upon a time there was a girl that had a crush, a huge deep painful crush that grew to deep painful love with a boy with dark eyes.
(she would repeat this story to herself a thousand times, sometimes as a litany of heartbreak, later as a joke that was once too big to see.)
and roughly a year later…
ok. we’ll be blunt. she more or less had an orgasm.
and a while before that that he loved her.
that was more important.

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