I fell in love during the wrong season.

It's a known fact that summer is a season where romances should be kept light and casual. It is a season where one can flutter about and do whatever he or she wants-- as the heat rises, tempers, and minds flare up and cause indecisive thoughts. You shouldn't have to choose between a single person during the summer. However, as the temperature starts to go down, so do the amount of prospects, and the desire for one person to just cuddle up next to gets stronger.

Winter is a couple's season. Therefore, I fell in love during the wrong season.

A big part of me is in love with remnants of my past:

the people I hurt,

the ones that I used to love, 

the choices I've made,

and the mistakes that have transpired from them.

You know those days where you just want to stop the world and get back to your sweetheart?

This is one of those days. Granted, I no longer have a sweetheart to go home to-- but I still miss every inch of you. Maybe you'll come back to me one day.

Here's to hoping.

Short entry for now, as I'm working on my very long, extensive travel post.

xx

Christa

closing time

All I have to say right now is that it's closing time.

Fuck finals,

I'm done.

Peace.

(Not done with the blog, but the semester.)

xx

still now, I send letters into space

It's funny only because I had a conversation with one of my best friends today that went like this:

Her: You still miss him, don't you?

Silence. 

(It took me awhile to gather my thoughts and formulate an answer to give to her.)

Me: I don't miss him, I miss the idea of us. I miss what I had with him. Not him. I'm over him.

Her: Are you sure?

Me: Yes. Positive. If he came back, I wouldn't take him back. He'd have to earn that shit.

Still, I'd do it again.

Even though it ends up with me writing you unsent letters 

and wishing on every 11:11 

and every star and airplanes 

and knowing that I loved you entirely too much, entirely too soon.