It's pouring here. And I'm packing all my things up. I'm not really near finished though, I just keep taking these small breaks and remembering different things from this past year. The metal buttons on my jeans that are in the dryer keep scaring me when the music gets soft, I keep thinking somone has opened my front door and wants to punch me in the face.I took all the covers,sheets,pillows,stuffed animals off my bed and put them into trash bags then I realized what will I sleep with? But I don't want to tear the bags open and waste like six trash bags. I think I'd just like to vaccum or pull my life together with one lovely giant bow. I don't know. What a weird mood. I found ten dollars, no really I did.
modernist writer, Ali
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