Sudden urge to write, but no time for it, there's not much time for much else besides getting through uni life each day. Not that it's an unhappy thing; on the contrary, I genuinely still find joy in my current time and place; it's just that I don't have those beautiful long spaces of time for indulging in a good read or a write anymore. When's the last time I finished a book proper? Ages ago, it seems. As for writing, all I have now are the itsy bits of print which show up in my mind's eye, and I catch them, jot them down, like crumbs in the space of time between plate's edge and sinkhole. They are snatches of emotion, enough to get me by, a mediocre subset of the whole I'm missing out on.
Sometimes the places look still as they did the day you showed me around, and it brings a smile to my lips.
Like they're already gone despite still breathing in their bodies
Tomorrow I'll wake up and I will be sane.
Started running today and I love it. Gotta add sneakers to my December shopping list, 'cause I foresee these running shoes getting soiled steadily.
*Sigh* Has it really been just over a month since I dressed up for a jaunt? No regrets arriving with little more than a single suitcase and backpack, but I do miss wearing impractically pretty clothes.
