Forgot there was no more wood.

Same outfit, three days in a row. It is still raining.

Indeed, I am halfway there.

Morning pages in my fire seat, but there is no fire. I pretend that it is ablaze, roaring, making my feet sweat.

The road is littered with bits of dead limbs and pine cones, bright green leaves and runaway mulch.

Home is where I belong.

Focus.

Well, there goes dodgeball and donuts.

“So I remember when we were drivin', drivin' in your car / Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk / City lights lay out before us / And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder / And I had a feeling that I belonged / I had a feelin' I could be someone / Be someone, be someone…”

I should have gone.