Aside from Tuesday and Thursday, I've seen at least one firefly every day. Sometimes when I wake up in the night the light flashing on the carbon monoxide detector looks like one, but that obviously doesn't count. On Wednesday one landed on me, lit up, and flew away. The best one.

I cancelled the Fourth of July, and I think it was better for all involved. I've had enough of these nights made of giant groups of people, all having half-conversations in voices that are louder than they need to be. It's mostly summer that's like this, and usually I like it, but I can't get used to it this year. I can't get used to summer at all, I can feel fall sneaking up on me already, sneaking up from the inside out. I've decided to stick with the plan of selling everything and running away. If I start figuring out where to go now, it will all be so much easier. It might be a bad idea, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't do it.

The moon, it turns out, is located far out towards the end of Long Island. I love going out there because it's like driving to the end of the world. Going away from here in any other direction means moving closer to something else, but heading straight east takes you to the ocean, beyond which there's nothing for what looks like forever, what looks like, "This is it, it's all over now, you've used up the land and there's only water left." The wedding invitation didn't say, "and guest," but that's alright because Francis and Sam are going, and that will be the best morning, the three of us in fancy outfits, listening to loud music and talking about things no one else would remember, driving to the end of the world.

I still can't get over everything I didn't say. My whole life is made of holding on to the things I ought to say the most, saying all of the things that don't matter over and over. Maybe I think that there'll always be time to get to it, but that isn't true, is it? I'm ready to say everything now, more than a week too late and with no one to say it to. Maybe I'll go talk to one of the whispering corners, maybe I'll find a nice looking stranger's ear to tell it to, and then say, "Pass it on." Maybe I'll start a giant game of telephone and the words will get all mangled up, but could it be worse than not trying at all?