Ryan Adams is singing Fleetwood Mac in my bedroom. i am typing with the computer unplugged, wishing for lightning just a little bit closer, wishing for more time and less hours. wishing for none of these things and laughing all the while at the futility of grasping the things that were never mine to begin with.
nine years ago today i flew to North Carolina to visit a girl i loved.
one year ago today i mailed that woman a letter she never read.
today i flew back from Charlotte... knowing the difference.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
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