under your skin and gnawing at your tendons

Was struck by waves of nostalgia for everyone and everything. Never let me go, I quote the title of the intellectual book by Kazuo Ishiguro and am so not emo. It is easy to forget and let old ties dissolve with time, but let's not! Because that is depressing and I will end up with zero friends, which is completely inconvenient.

I turn my demons into multi-pawed furry monsters with teeny weeny eyes and many many teeth and name them triocubepawrus. Their ominous growls of Death shall become GRRRRR in Stephen Fry speak (which is HAWT in such a disturbing way). I wave my magic wand and hex the pink unicorns (candy floss in their brains) with hilariously bad poems spelling out their names. Grass stains, not pasta sauce, on my shirt. The weight of not my inadequacy, but that rock taken without permission (you THIEVES!) on my shoulders.

In between shelves and on the stadium steps and along corridors and around dirty tables. Pointing, laughing, loitering, shrieking. I'm going to sieve out the empty, lonely parts and save those with the kind of happiness one only gets when moving in packs. Though sometimes, the presence of one is enough to count for numbers.

I think our campus receives a disproportionate amount of sunlight. That's a rather happy thing, huh.