I miss you and the peculiar combination of circumstances that allowed us to tolerate each other. I'm not entirely certain that you're academically happy here, but you always said that if you cared for it, your hair would be so lovely. I passed you on the street the other day, coincidentally, awkwardly, and as you turned back to wave hello I realized that your hair was perfect, longer than ever and silky curled at the dark tips.
Stunning. I envy your social ease, the way you find your niche and your activities and, apparently, your boys. I took the school side, anyway, reaching further than we ever thought I could go. I have things to do and places to be, and that's enough.
But are you happy?
reading: feministing
listening to: dashboard confessional
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