i love music; it's such a balm. makes me feel amazingly better. truthfully, music is so dreamlike and otherworldly.  i probably shouldn't live so much in the past, or the future.  i know somehow, that now is all that counts, but alas. 

i find myself saying "but alas . . . " a lot lately.  i'm not sure if i'm really letting go, or if i'm just resigned(ing) to some things. 

i think i need to start/return to journaling (with that crazy pen and paper) more often.  the longer i go without writing, the harder it is to say anything.  and i don't know why i want to say things, when truthfully, it seems there is nothing worth saying, but it's like a thirst - insatiable and always in the back of my mind, reminding me of the need at every other blink.

on nights like these, it somehow seems that  a thunderstorm and big fluffy bed would solve all my problems.  but, i still wake up as me.  and that's the part i need to make peace with.

* my mel states, and i quote, "no you don't. they're far too short and generally bittersweet."  does she always have to be soooo right?