25 february 2003.

a new letter from julie came yesterday. she wrote about her train ride, painting her house, and her neice's first real kiss.

If the gods had not meant for us to turn into total nutcases every time we get a little of the good kind of affection, they would not have made our hearts to melt like good chocolate and turn instantly into heroin.

i reflect back on mine, after the junior prom all balled up together on my friend's couch, the rest of them fell asleep around the room, paired in the recliners, squished up on the floor. we were the only two awake, and it was all perfect and wonder-years-esque until i nearly had an anxiety attack and got upset over a situation i had created in my head. i turned my neck and pushed my face into the pillow. and now its three years later and i still do the same thing.

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