Going, Going.

I want someone to want to take a picture of me. I want to feel that important to someone in that exact way.

The song Chelsea by Counting Crows should play everywhere I go, and waste away conversations. Because it has the sadness and mystery I want and am never identified with.

I miss having time, I realize now. Adulthood equals no time. Or time spent doing things you have to do instead of things you want to do. I’m not mourning, just planning.

I miss the people who get it, and the circumstances they come with.

It’s hard in ways that don’t want to be written about, all of this. I’ve always been afraid, ever since I was barely a teenager and writing, to sit down and say, "This is what’s happened." I’ve just dove back in when it felt right, or when I’d been drinking at least. And that time never happens anymore.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say.