you write the bible, i'll read it off my eyelids

little bits of the past keep crawling into my head and dying. and then they just sit there and fester for prolonged amounts of time, until i believe them to still be true. don't you know there's no truth in history? it's been gone over so many times that the truth has disappeared under piles of thought
i think about people far too much. i talk about you far too much, don't worry, i've noticed. you probably haven't, though, because it woould be silly of me to talk about you in front of you. that would just be awkward.
inspired by a combination of abbey and arielle, i'm going to attempt to knit red mittens.
red.
mittens.
EVERYONE DESERVES A PAIR. but then, there are always alligator mittens. HOW WILL I DECIDE WHICH TO KNIT?!?
i found a piece of paper in my room that said "j'ai passe seize ans sans ecouter. les mots du monde sont tombees sur mes oreilles fermees." (except, you know, with accents.) it made me sad, because i don't remember what i wrote that for, except that it was for FLA last fall. and i was sad. i remember looking out the window to the tree in the courtyard and the leaves were turning orange in the sun, and wondering why i couldn't appreciate it.