fifteen

[sappy haiku redacted for fear of ruined rep]

I think life is getting more fun.  It sure is more scary, more lively, more vivid than it was for a long time.  I also think of myself that, as Rosie O’Donnell once put it in a favorite film of mine, “You don’t want to be in love. You want to be in love in a MOVIE.”

That is correct.

I’m not nursing a heartbreak or anything, just musing that certain things are more complicated than I thought.  I have this safety-blanket love for listmaking which consumes those small spiral-top memo books that come five to a pack at Staples.  They’re my real diaries, I sometimes think.  Everything from grocery lists to items for a trip, cryptic abbreviations indicating a bar where I’m to meet someone, and then a name, and each time I open a door my stomach flutters and my fingers twitch, wondering when I’ll get to someday pull out a notebook and point to a name, saying, “See? This is where we met.  And then I picked up cat litter and tomatoes.”

Soon, maybe.

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