21:44 - December 08, 2002
tiny pieces
In my room it is a very cold night. I can't stop shivering even though I'm under covers. I brought back the wrong sweatshirt..... he must have mine. (Smacks of Aubrey and the sunglasses).. I want to run down the hall and cry for really no reason at all other than I've been totally affected by the same book I'm always totally, uncontrollably affected by. Even the cars on the expressway awhile outside my window seem unnaturally close. I can't read that scene without closing my eyes at every sentence and curling my feet around each other to have some form of contact and still hold the pages apart. If someone had come in my room just then I would have begged them to get in bed with me and just be warm. At times like these I can very clearly understand things that I'm usually too cynical to understand. At times like these I am so grateful that I am normally cynical.
I would break apart into tiny pieces.

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