smell of wine and cheap perfume

we all have those songs: the ones that, in the crescendo, remind us of who we were, of friends long gone, of a time that you didn't appreciate until it slipped away like the words that race through your brain. all these songs grip my memory, make me reach for a glass of wine. i wish for them to neverend: for those friendships that changed beyond repair to revert to their innocence.

as much as i hate to admit it, and i've always been this way, i'm completely incapable of letting go, moving on, getting over the past. I allow the nostalgia to gather inside my chest till it explodes in the middle of a journey song, and i want nothing but to capture those times that are completely incapable of being captured in words. i've tried so many times, but they just seem to be the experiences that deserve more than words or pictures.

i was looking at pictures from right before i studied abroad yesterday. fall '04. and i remember that feeling: coming off of the summer to end all summers, and looking towards an incredible journey that was to be filled with ups, downs, sideways, broken hearted moments that are inextricably tied into my brain as a dream too good to have ever happened to me. that year was the best year of my life. and has quickly been followed by the worst.

i'm not quite sure i understand why. a year of perfection followed by 2 years of unhappiness. and yet, things seem to be looking up now...but only after hitting the complete rock bottom.

my heart is always filled with this sap, i just want to tap into it and create something that means anything to anyone...

but the sac is just too strong, too closed, unready to open the vessel and release its memories into the wild. i somehow don't want to allow other people to navigate that jungle. the trees are too new, and just barely reach above the ground. mere seedlings.

but if i can only write after the experience is hard-wired, how can it ever be organic?

god i miss keene.

no.

god i miss the incredible freedom that was: college.