No idea. No ideas.

Being, and the world.
Being in the world.
Both at once,
And never at the same time.

The coast is a bit sad this time of year. I'm a bit sad this time of year. One month to go. Then back into the great unknown. Small rooms and routines made me forget that I never left it, and that nothing was really unknown ever anyway, and that it's all unknown just the same. But the blurred past always seems so romantic. I have no idea what happened then, but it feels better than this, always better than this. This fleeting moment that's always slipping away and always seeming the same. I remember what I was yesterday, never the day before that, but it was the same day anyhow really. And tomorrow is quickly approaching and I'm not sure what I'll say to her, or more importantly, what she'll have to say to me. And that's all just fun really, and a good excuse to be worried, conflicted and sad. And what am I without a little conflict? Well I'm not sure, but that's what I've been for months now, and I can't seem to remember any of it.