Time is flying by so fast, I'm scared of it! I don't like for it to move so quickly, really. I prefer slow time, really - not boring time, just languid, listening, lolly-gagging time. Time for tea breaks with créme horns and beautiful little trays with cups and saucers, time for socializing - but it's not my style. My style is fast fast fast, I can barely slow down when I crawl into bed at night and slurp down, gulp down my herbal tea and gobble up my créme horn and throw the covers back in a mad dash to fall asleep, which I can't do. I want to lolly-gag on a farm, picking pomegranates and making tracks in the dirt with my big toe, yawning and staring at the ring on the sun. . . .

. . . . I miss sweetie pie so much. I want my sleepless nights to be with him. I need him right now to add to the ever so brightly shining spot that he does add. I miss it - so shiny.