Peppermint

Washington, D.C.

It is deeply gloomy outside and while normally I like nothing better than this sort of weather with coffee and a good book, today it only matches my mood. There are so many things that have become uncertain and I fear that my sounding board, Jon, has become tired of my verbal hand wringing. I've never been very good at friendships. For whatever reason I can never seem to hang on to close friends. And while the people I've met in the city have been lovely, for the most part, I wouldn't say any are true close friends. The kind you can call up anytime and have over for coffee, do nothing but talk and be comfortable in one anther's presence. I'm more than lucky to have found my wonderful companion but, sometimes just sometimes, I ache for the sort of conversations you can only have with a best girl friend.

I've been burying myself in studying and books. About France in WWII, the American Revolution, love letters of poets. I'm searching for that feeling of being so overwhelmed with a text that you cannot see beyond the page. It has been too long since I've felt that. And the days are long. Long and seemingly endless yet somehow they bleed into one another with the weather as the only demarcation of time. The yearning for elsewhere is so strong that it causes me to lose my breath. I feel so unattached, like I may float away. That might be nice.