December 27, 2003
Cannon Fire
I am reminiscing. This time we curled up on a different couch, having Skyline in the first hour of the film and popcorn in the fifth. 30 minutes of additional footage in this gift from him, and I was only mildly distracted by the soft touch of his fingers and this glittering wonder upon my own.
Now I sit in front of my father's computer, eating around the burnt pieces in a bag of popcorn and contemplating an evening spent in a single bed. It's odd, tucking the sheet around just myself. More and more I think I'd like to live with him, just for the peace of mind of a warm body in bed with me. Foolish, isn't it? I need not worry about getting carried away... it's certain he'll never be filled with similar desires.
I've been possessed of a restless spirit of late. Stress coupled with my lazy nature prove for ill visits to this journal, do they not? I remember when a day could not pass without my thoughts spilling over here. There's so much to do, anymore.
astera at 12:05 a.m.