Different People; Different Touch.

Journal,

Hi, lovely. My brain is overwhelmed, and I am struggling with my English Lit. assignments. As I read the words, I fall into the familiar, comforting analysis pattern; this comfort is violently removed by intrusive, albeit beautiful, thoughts. So, I reach for you, good sir, and hope to fall into these pages’ empty white space.

Last night was sweet. Touch is sweet. What is better? I truly do not know, at least for me. I live for my precious- and brief -moments of cozy embrace, where the stars are a little brighter and the air a bit cleaner- inhaling life and exhaling a memory.

Pretty stars; brief stars; goodnight stars;

Love always,