irishpantsgirl
the first edition of the book i have in my hands was much cleaner. easier. neater. better. but so much more irrelevant. it's the notes and the scribbles and the doodles and the drawings that make it what it is, that make so much sense to the situation. honestly, i hate this new edition, but it's saving my life.
this summer was the one of the worst summers of my life. the worst and the best. i'm not quite sure how. i have no idea what it was. it was amazing and wonderful and fantastic and magical, and it was horrible and gruesome and morbid and deathly. there's a part of me that hopes never to return, and there's a part of me that hopes next summer will be the same.
from the moment i wake, it hits me. the realization that i'm not where i'm supposed to be. i may be in a dream, i think i'm in a dream. it's strange, everything has this air of transparency to it, and it annoys me. i have a nagging feeling that that was the last time i would ever wake in my life.