i read somewhere that i would feel like this again, and yet i'd proclaim that i'd never felt like this before.

but i've never felt something quite like this.

and i've never inhaled so much cigarette smoke. my scarf smells like the stuff. the smoke tendrils are fun to play with, though. and i don't mind anymore, for some reason. watching "king of california" and talking to people and lying on a comfortable (eerily familiar) suede couch and not really being all that tired and making friends with awesomeness are all worth the sneaking into my room at a quarter 'til three and sleeping in my clothes and more defined bluish shadows under the corners of my eyes and missing a supposed midnight showing of "where the wild things are" and the cold air that doesn't bite at you but slowly osmoses into your epidermis and sticks to you and makes your nose run slightly. it makes me very content.

but i've never felt something quite like this.

-d