while it's fresh in my mind:

I am filler, I am nothing.

I am the one that inhabits the rooms and the beds. But I am only taking up space.

This is what I have chosen, I suppose.

I have chosen to take the bus instead of bike, and now I will be fat. I have chosen to let jealousy and bitterness sink in, and now I will be bitter.

This isn't my present, it's someone else's past, but I am living it, and it's loud and mean.

"Sorrow drips into your heart, through a pinhole, just like a faucet that leaks, and there is comfort in the sound, and while you debate half empty or half full, it slowly rises,
your love is gonna drown."

I had a dream about Eli last night, and trains, and hanging out with people my age.

It wouldn't matter if I was the most beautiful woman in the world in my new dress, and it wouldn't matter if I went away to college, and got real smart, it wouldn't matter if I wrote a book, or a play, or a song, I am only me. I will never be 543.

And just like that, these feeling bring me back to knocking on Julian's window, in the garage, but I'm not S, either.

My new suspenders itch.

I am going to ride my bike, even if it pours.