twenty-six august 2010
five : twenty-nine p.m.

fuck, i miss you.

and i think about you every day, even though i know i shouldn't. i am running out of memories, exhausting all the real-life ones, starting to make shit up.

from across the country: "want to go to san juan islands?" "right now?" "next week. bring your bicycle. you know..i wish you lived on this side."