It's windy and cold. It's soup and coffee weather, so I made soup and coffee. It's also only 5pm and already pitch black outside. It feels like time is sliding through my fingers. Yesterday I was 22 and flying by the seat of my pants. I don't necessarily miss it, just sort of nostalgic about it, or around it, or whatever. I used to go to concerts by myself (Tori Amos) and not give a shit because I knew I'd meet people and it was all good. I used to find myself bored at midnight and decide to hop in the car and drive an hour and half to Asheville and spend the rest of the morning smoking American Spirits and drinking Guinness with Natalie and April and whoever else happened to be around. I used to spend weekends with my sister Wendy, driving mountain roads, hiking waterfalls, sifting through the ruins of old houses and swilling Sun Drop.
I'm glad I was the one who did those sorts of things. But I'm sad for the rootless girl who never had a role to fill.