January 2011
3 posts
styrofoam plates.
There’s a saltwater film on the jar of your ashes; I threw them to the sea, but a gust blew them backwards
and the sting in my eyes that you then inflicted
was par for the course just as when you were living.
im too emotionally drained to even post coherent thought right now. I am utterly incapable of expressing how tumultuous everything just became to me.
I had a dream..
about Bollettieri.
I had gone back with Brianna, and I was training again like nothing had ever happened.
Like I had never quit.
I know I need to stop looking back. I made the right decision education wise, but I miss tennis. I miss training. and I know I can still play, but whats the goal now?
I miss Bollettieri. I miss making new tennis friends. I miss grinding it out on a court in 108...
Dear Ben Gibbard,
Thank you for writing music that can soothe me even after I lose an entire rant post I was writing before I could publish it. Without you, right now I might be feeling slightly distraught. Also, your music drenches my skin with hope. Which, consequently, drips through my pores and makes its way throughout my body. I hope your music isn’t going to let me down here, Benny. Though, I know It...
