I had a bad day. Like, legit awful. I'm feeling like I'm going to get stuck with some guy that thinks Seu Jorge is Haitian and sings in French. It's the little things, you know?
I just want to swim. I miss those nights during the summer M and I first met when we would break into the pool at Spanish Gate after midnight with a bottle of wine. And we'd take all of our clothes off and just float and kiss. And years went by, and things got serious, and we got old and boring. And every once in a while, after dinner, I'd grab him and kiss him and whisper that I wanted him to take me to Spanish Gate after everyone went to sleep. And he'd get so excited. But the longer we were together, the more likely it was that midnight would come around, and he would be snoring next to me. And I loved him, so I'd roll him onto his side and wrap my arms around him and just cry. How does that happen to people? I've never been happier than I was that first summer. We were so free and so happy. And nothing else in the world mattered except that we were in love. This intense, burning love. I know it's cliche, but we were fucking on fire for each other. And I don't miss him, but I miss that feeling.
My best friend called me "a hard ass woman" the other day. She's got to be so disappointed in me for being such a pussy on the internet.