May 2010
1 post
Dear Lauren,
(You’re the only one who reads this, anyhow.)
It’s 1AM and I’m feeling journal-y. My composition book for the semester is almost all filled up of memories and feelings and thoughts and sadnesses and ideas and regrets.
Right now I’m online chatting with a boy I met in class. We’re talking about books. About how he loves Fydor Dostoevesky and Faulkner. And maybe...
