My legs get cramped against swings but every bruise is worth it. When else do you forget the rain, the cold, the unhappy, the Paris.
I leave in 11 days and my heart is breaking.
This will not be the same expirience it should have been
I'm utterly terrified about everything and anything. If I fuck it up, I'm royally fucked.
But life is fleeting and the prospect of art history classes and hangingggg with local intellectuals and aritsans is rushing at me.
Its too bad food wont taste as good
I've lost my appetite without you. and even when you are there eating with me, I cant keep track of the food. I keep looking at your face.