Oh journal,

I’m still thinking in sad acoustic chords. There’s this long open road score that seems to run through my head in a circle, sort of mellow, but mostly just sad. Like rain on a windowpane. That sort of acoustic music.

The fireworks were beautiful, but they seemed so final I almost couldn’t enjoy them. All the summer laughing and barbeque smells, I just felt so removed from it all. And the fireworks, blooming overhead like nuclear flowers, were so beautiful, reflected there in his eyes.

I could have cried.

Leaving this place is going to be so hard.

Sitting on the dock, looking up into a sky full of color, I just felt so safe. So secure. So… myself. Looking down at our hands, fingers intertwined, I just felt as though I finally fit. Like the last piece in a puzzle that makes the image complete.

I don’t like to think about leaving. About ending this.

It’s 3 in the morning and I can hear the wind against the house. And I miss him, even though I haven’t left yet.

[7-4-08]