So the seniors' last day is Friday. Miles graduates in June. Then he's gone for 4 years. "I'll write you letters every day" Four years is a very long time.

Boston Pops tomorrow. Not sure what I'm wearing. Nothing I have goes with Steve Madden.

Wendesday in choir we're doing the line-up-say-bye-to-the-seniors thing. I'm wondering what Adam will say. He watches me now. Cringing, I think, though I'm not sure why. Maybe he'll be sorry. Or angry. Or completely indifferent. Maybe he'll whisper that he'll always love me, and I'll laugh in his face and finally forget him.

My research paper is painful. I think if I tried hard enough I might care less about transcendentalism.

I want to stop living for a couple of days, so I can rest and think and dream about Miles. I'll wakeup not having to worry about finals or english papers, and he'll still be here. I can close my eyes and see him sleeping. His eyelashes touch the freckles on his cheeks.

>>I'm the girl with the keys and the eyes that say "I'm two steps away from forgetting I'm here".

ash @ 10:27 PM