“what is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with the years. the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.”

i like rainy days of stir fry, talking about harry potter, volunteering at the co-op, being arm's length in bleach for two hours while discussing music, watching bad romance over and over, writing a s/s 2010 review while allie and julia sit on my bed and read vogue.

and i hang like a star

days like yesterday made me so excited to live here for the next four years.

to put it eloquently...leaving here is going to suck.

rave on

sometimes i get distracted and i was looking on blackcigarette and found that love post, the one i couldn't quite understand then but still admired it. looking back on the pictures, quotes, messages of love, it made me realize, that's us, we're one of them. what used to feel unreal has finally begun to sink in and make an impression on me. maybe its because i count the days til we're back in the same place, it kind of makes me a little crazy when i only miss you more everyday. last night you texted me while i was sleeping so i'd have something to wake up to, telling me how much you love me. love never carried so much weight, we say it so much, but i seriously felt it when i looked through sleepy eyes at your 5 a.m. message.

sometimes it gets hard and you feel too far and i think of what it would be like alone.

i mean, i wouldn't die, since i'm mostly alone here, but i couldn't imagine life devoid of sleep dates, adventures, and spending hours talking. you're the only one it's so effortless with, so entirely consuming that i used to want to scream and run around after we saw each other.

i know it's crazy to plan the next three years but i really hope one day its easier for us, where we don't have to put each other through the distance, through the questioning of what each other's lives are truly like, through irrational anger.

i want late mornings waking up near you and exploring cities and feeling close.

i kind of like this love thing.

i miss summer

i miss new york

i miss home

i miss adventures

i miss feeling restless there

i hate feeling restless here

i hate this feeling

i don't know if this will work

fuck

dover beach- matthew arnold

So my favorite class this year, even above my history of popular music class, is my english class. I take british literature 1800-present and it solidified the idea that i am either double majoring in english and journalism or minoring in english. Last night, I had to read this poem while I sat in my hall while all of my friends were decorating the walls with pictures and putting paper over the lights. I love a lot of the poetry but this poem I thought was especially beautiful...so enjoyz.

The sea is calm to-night.

The tide is full, the moon lies fair

Upon the straits; on the French coast the light

Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;

Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.

Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!

Only, from the long line of spray

Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,

Listen! you hear the grating roar

Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,

At their return, up the high strand,

Begin, and cease, and then again begin,

With tremulous cadence slow, and bring

The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago

Heard it on the A gaean, and it brought

Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow

Of human misery; we

Find also in the sound a thought,

Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith

Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore

Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.

But now I only hear

Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,

Retreating, to the breath

Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear

And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true

To one another! for the world, which seems

To lie before us like a land of dreams,

So various, so beautiful, so new,

Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,

Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;

And we are here as on a darkling plain

Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,

Where ignorant armies clash by night.