October 24, 2004

My brain still throbs with tenderness, and I can no longer form coherent thoughts.

This weekend she wore my sweaters. We touched fingers and lips while exploring Cambridge. I bleed for her in an abandoned warehouse. We slept for 15 hours straight. I climbed over arches not meant to be climbed. She showed me her restless self. I told her about my worries.

None of this makes sense: everything is wonderful and confusing.