i'm so cold.
i shiver as i try to write. i keep turning the heat up; but still my fingers and toes remain bitter.
posted by lyza jane @ 1:54 PM
strange days
"...even if it meant that she had failed, she was glad. and if what she'd wanted had been impossible from the start, still there was a certain lonely comfort in the fact that she'd known it was impossible and had gone and done it anyway." - the little friend, donna tartt
Previous Posts
- get to the fucking point...
- if you read this...
- sharing time
- it's a jungle out there!
- wishes really do come true
- as the year comes to a close...
- (untitled)
- the quiet spaces
- kid fears
- hey jealousy
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