March 21, 2004
Fin
I wish I could go back to sleep for a few more hours. I wish I didn't have to rustle through my laundry, my bookbag, my messenger bag, my brain, while you are still sleeping peacefully, sleeping.
I never left. I lavished Spring Break in your bed, snuggled up in your shirts and your pillow smelling like you.
I have to head back up to school today, much to my dismay, to type up a paper that is sure to be total shit. The very thought of packing my things up into their prospective bags and laundry basket makes me sad. I'll come back on Tuesday night, and I'll make sure I have dinner first. I owe you too many dinners. I think the hoped-for advance on my second novel is spent twice over by now on you, on evenings out, on guitars and computer monitors.
Maybe if I lay back down I'll just fall asleep, and this semblance at awake will disappear. It's too early, too early in the day and too, too late in the week.
I am sad.
astera at 11:38 a.m.