For ever

The things we do to each other, hoping we will never again have to see the ones we used to love for what they really were.



Post script

My only love, I need you to fill this void in my silent heart, I need you to remember the things we shared together, just the two of us. We were young until one day we weren't but I know that there is still time for us to hold hands under the velvet sky and fall asleep to the sound of our breaths like fire.



My New Year's resolutions, unedited:

1) Letting people know I'm alive by writing here more often
2) Writing about the things that really matter, about the people and the things I care about and that make me want to be a better person
3) Never forgetting that things and people can change, even I

I love all of you so very much.


There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so

I've been in New York two weeks now, frantically afraid of running into someone I know, hiding behind my sunglasses and excessive make-up. Conscience doth make cowards of us all. I finally managed to call Avy an hour or so ago, she didn't recognize my voice when I said hello so I guess it's been too long.

Italy was good to me, as it always is but I need things to change now, in whatever way. Tomorrow never felt more real or frightening but maybe it's a good thing.

Today I'm washing away the make-up and I'm ready to stare into the sun on Fifth Avenue. Avy is coming to meet me and sometimes I forget what she looks like and how it feels to hold her close.



Maybe it's just my imagination but whenever Avy's thinking of me I can feel it in my blood. Like her I sometimes forget, but when you love someone they're never really gone. They're a part of you that's always hidden somewhere underneath the skin, and that's what makes us love them.

If I don't miss Los Angeles I feel a greater need to go back to New York, not just to see her but to be in the city. Maybe I'll go soon, dad has told me he's going to stay in Milano one more week. I'm guessing he wants me to back with him but he would never actually tell me it to my face.


City of angels

We've arrived in Milano and I feel right at home as I always do here. Dad doesn't mention my mom, I guess she's still in Los Angeles, sipping long drinks by the swimming pool.

LA, it's been so long I can almost not remember what it felt like. I can picture our house in my head but not the smells, not the colors. I don't miss it but it's something that's been close to me all my life, and now it's only a fading memory.

Isn't it strange how quickly we forget?