July 26, 1997
journal, stream of consciousness

His eyes are deeply dark; he looks at me like I've forgotten something, like he didn't get what he expected.
He will visit other parts of this ocean; we will get lost in the depths.
I feel like a child who's misbehaved. I didn't want to watch movies with him anyway. I have been on this island of me long enough - did I choose these shackles? Did I fashion them myself?
He wants to watch "Mad About You". I want to cry.
Does he feel this awkwardness? Why does he stick around - out of tradition? It'd be a shame to let a friendship of 10 years quietly, pathetically fizzle out.

And looping in my head, heard in Casey's car, Fiona Apple singing, "All I want is to save you, honey, or the strength to walk away."

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