I shared a moment with a woman the other day. She reminded me of you Cynthia. She complimented me on my tote bag of “The Great Gatsby” and she got a dreamy look on her face when she said, “F. Scott Fitzgerald, he’s just…” and I almost felt like she was transported back to her youthful days in the 50’s and wanted to say something along the lines of, “He’s just the most!”. I almost finished the line for her. But that dreamy look, it reminded me of you. And I didn’t want to let her to go. I almost reached out for her, for you. Because I keep wanting to have one last moment with you. One last conversation about nothing but about everything at the same time. I need one last encouragement that I have it in me. It was like you could really see inside of me, like you could see it there. Like it was am ember, burning, glowing. I just need something of you. An object, an ornament, something to wear around my neck so I feel like you’re with me. Because I really did feel like you were going to save my life.
- Spotify thinks it knows me and thinks it can follow BSB with Liz Phair. Ok fine. I did it. But it was a weird trans… twitter.com/i/web/status/1… 1 day ago
- RT @MatthewACherry: Cats still shooting off fireworks on July 24th. I know it’s got a 4th in it but still. https://t.co/Lx1CCOENye 1 day ago
- @lochnessVHS I'm actually scared to watch it cause those kind of movies trigger me but I really want to see it! 1 day ago
- @danjlevy I work on the phone and people have been EXTRA rude since the pandemic started. People treat workers like… twitter.com/i/web/status/1… 2 days ago
- I said the words today. I guess this is where healing starts. 5 days ago