bowls of malaysian noodles with the filmmaker. he comes to my district every day during lunch hour, we eat together. and then he drags himself back to the other end of the main road. he’s like that. afternoons like these I am thinking I don’t really need anyone. drinks with k. later. I haven’t seen that boy since I poured my soul out to him over our shared tiramisu in winter. you are such a feminist hater.
I keep re-reading things I had written a long time ago. to discover the person I was never supposed to be. I am not sure why I sent that email last night. maybe because of the dream a few days ago, or maybe because I really wanted to. I am still trying to find a way back.
listening to croatian music at work, pretending I am not here. but I am writing my own piece about wine. last night inspired me. but I need to go home, spend some time just nodding off on the couch, watching mindless televesion. because I feel I am about to crash.
tvoje suze mi sude.