Destination: Backyard

For utter lack of anything better to do this afternoon, Austin and I decided to just start driving south. So we drove through Hazel, blew through Paris, and sank into the juvenile thrill of adventuring into the unknown.

"We've got to be getting close to Nashville."

"I had some coffee a little while ago, so I'm good to keep on driving if you are."

So we kept driving, admiring stars, shooting bull, and blaring gospel through the radio. When we finally came across some trace of cell signal, we decided to check Austin's phone to verify our status as pioneering adventurers, and then we discovered that we had taken quite possibly the longest route ever driven to Dover. So now we're making our way back home. Be there in thirty minutes.

I'm Sorry

I've really never claimed to be good at poetry, but I was going through a lot of my old things today, and came across this. I wrote it as a sophomore and forgot about it, but it sums things up well enough to convince me to preserve it here.

How many years has it been since we talked
With hands at our sides instead of each other's throats?
So much for the peace we only thought to retrieve
Those chances were lost when you were called to leave.
If I'd lowered myself for a moment to say:
"Sarah, I'm sorry;" would you be here today?

That's how it looks beyond stained-glass
Remembering laughter from an innocent past.
Only when opaque windows open can we see
That nothing is ever so as rosy as it seems.

Still missing you. . .

My Anti-Boredom

In lieu of anything really productive, I spent some quality time with Garry's Mod today. I made this giant erupting man out of flammable barrels, tires, boxes, a car, and computer parts. . .
. . . then set him ablaze.