The strike of a match and the pungent smell of burning herb. You're with the crowd yet not, as
that smile spreads slow across your face and you lose yourself to the stars and the drumbeat.
Work drags when you feel you're not doing anything positive, not contributing to your passions. But interesting prospects lie ahead. This is something I can get on board with. A thousand minutes isn't enough for all there is to say, not that what is said is anything of great significance.
You need to get some. Some what? Sleep. Wise choice. Loneliness is a habit. And magnetic. Maybe lonely people just gravitate towards each other.
Carrot cake and four people are sometimes all it takes to carry the blues away. I'll miss the girl; the time we spend is quantitatively less, but qualitatively more as a result. Meeting someone new is exhilarating. This particular one is confusing. Are you, are you not? It's an interesting detour. Random is good, for now.
I'm too old for games. You're never too old for games. Yeah, so you've told me.
There may not be much in a name, but there's something in yours that brings it all back. We grew up while things were just getting techy; now I can't work as well on a desktop as a laptop. Choice, it just makes things harder, really.
I miss nights at Rosmead, gin and tonics at SSC with mustard lamb, LL stories over dinner. December is so far away. Rainy Sunday mornings are perfection, lying in bed, sitting on the porch. There's never a green so green as a garden in the rain.
I want to see elephants; elephants and butterflies. And the world.