Leaving the country will do wonders to my present relationships. (I am tempted to substitute "do" with "make" and "to" with "of".)

So far these days, despite my best intentions, I plan ad nauseum, think until my head hurts, drink too much, call and email and wait, argue heedlessly cuz I am an ass with a child's head, ever so inconsiderate for today has always been the first day for me.

Yet hitting that car and turning 27 and not speaking to my parents and being so sad sometimes--it's all changing me in such ways I can't describe to even you, orangepeeler.

At night, I dream of stories writing themselves: night like a page made of the best paper, stars coasting on it as if they are goose feathers dipped in the wettest light.

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