September 8, 2002
Roar Roar Roar
There is no sense to be found in the fog of four a.m. Friday, we are silent and zombie-esque as he drives. Saturday, we sing along loudly and our eyes are fixed on the road for signs of pididdle.
He makes it so hard for me.
"I think you worry too much." A hand lays idly on my hip, I sniff at him through the shrubbery that is my hair.
"I just feel like I'm losing my hold on things. My confidence."
"About me?"
"Amongst other things." I bury my face partially in the fold of my arms, just my eyes now, peering at him. "I just see things falling apart. I see you breaking my heart."
"You underestimate me. You think I'll give up on you so easily."
I smile, if weakly, and his hand tightens at my waist.
"Okay."
I do think he'll give up on me. Reluctantly, but I believe it all the same. I have to learn to let go of that. Trust me, I'm trying. I was playful, at least, by the end of the night, which is more than I can say for the beginning.
Listening to Procol Harem's 'Whiter Shade of Pale.' Clearly one of the most awesome songs ever written and subsequently played.
O, and Our Lady Peace rocks my socks.
I love how Mike looks at me when he sings slightly relevant lyrics. I love how he yawns out of the side of his mouth.
Why is Jason Lee lowering himself to doing a movie with Tom Green? This is a far cry from Brodie.
I'm going to go sit in my parents' lovely air conditioned room and do my homework. Must return to school today. On one hand, hoorah, on another, moderate hoorah.
astera at 12:39 p.m.