I was a seahorse. I liked being a seahorse.

Gosh, last night I said too much. Maybe not to the second two, but certainly to Danger. I don't trust her, and I shouldn't. I have reasons for calling her Danger. Sometimes though, we'll be talking alone and she'll smile and she'll understand a couple of things that other people won't. She's just quicker, sometimes, and I need quickness. She wants my dreams. We were sitting on a step and I told her too much and in a couple of weeks the whole thing will make me so sad, but it's unavoidable now. Almost. I'm still a little sore from the last time. The Egglet's friend showed up later on, which made me feel better about not calling Jenny. He hugged me, which was unexpected, but sort of nice. There was that guy again whose name I don't know, and having someone kiss your hand is only any good if you already like him, one way or another.

Francis sort of threatened me, but he was friendly about it, so that's disconcerting. I said, "Don't," but I don't know if he believed me. In an email I said again, "Don't," but Francis can be an interesting kind of mean, which is part of why I like him in the first place, though he tends not to use it on me. If he does what he said he will, I guess I'll just have to never talk to him again, but it's been about ten years, I guess. Maybe our time is up. I knew his confirmation name, of all things. There's nothing left to know.

I feel mildly awful, but it might only be that it's not in my nature to say so much and I'm overwhelmed. This morning I woke up cold and while my eyes were still closed I thought it was fall, and I haven't quite recovered all day. And I forgot! Yesterday while I was walking out of the building I saw an open door that I've never really thought about before, I guess because it had always been closed. Through the door is an alley that leads clear though to the back of the building and I just stopped and stared and sort of wanted to look at it forever. It runs right under my apartment, right under my bed, I've been sleeping over a secret passageway all of this time. I love a lot of things, but I might love secret places the most. When I was really little my older brother punched a hole in the wall beside his bed, and before it was patched up I thought I saw something sparkly in there. I started dreaming that there was a whole secret room back there, and I kept on dreaming it for years and years, and in the mornings while I was waking up I might have believed it was real. It still feels more like an actual memory than something my head made up while I slept.

In other news, my jokes aren't very funny, I've become bad at walks, and I'm not too terribly understanding. It isn't fair to expect someone else to do what I won't, but here I am, expecting it. This is where the moment gets away from us.