It's incredible the way time can pass without you noticing. I took a refreshing breath tonight when I remembered how it felt to hear a song and become as depressed as the tragic hero who wrote it; this time I couldn't sympathize, only remember.
I love the feel of summer heat and summer romance, but like the wind we all move on. I feel great tonight - so much better than I've felt in a long time. I don't know if it's love for someone or something that I've been missing far too long, or if it's love of something even bigger than immortal love itself.
In fact, I don't even know what I'm talking about.
This is one of those rare instances in which I find myself fine, satisfied, looking at a picture of someone long fallen out of my reach without jealousy, anger, hostility, or any other slew of pent-up and suppressed emotion surfacing to override any happy memory I owe myself.
This is my seven hundredth post. I could never make a living with the thoughts that flow through my head, but I love this simple pleasure and the simple pleasure of memories.
Everywhere is the smell of spring and the choking allergies that follow. It's so beautiful that it's almost hard to breathe anyways.
