No one ever understands everything I say. I wanted to say, "I loved that movie, it was so boring," but I knew what kind of face that would get me. I think that everyone knows when they're alone what it's like to love something because it's boring in a beautiful way, but they forget once a conversation starts, once someone else says it aloud.

I've been letting my fingernails grow. I'm trying to remember how to talk to people on the telephone. I've been letting my injuries heal. I'm recovering from the summer, I suppose. It seems sometimes like nothing happened this summer, but that's not true at all, is it? There are a lot of things that didn't happen, but that doesn't mean that the things that did don't matter. Somehow the hardest thing to take is that we didn't get our thunderstorms every Wednesday. I'll hope hard for next year.

It's strange the way sometimes your mind forces you to think of someone you'd rather not by putting him in your dreams. It doesn't matter that you feel that you're done thinking of that person, and maybe there's even someone else you'd rather be thinking of. There he is, waiting for you to fall asleep. Most of my dreams are about birds or stars or airplanes or secret passageways or getting lost in familiar places or danger. When it's just me and someone else, trying to make each other understand, it can leave me unsettled for too long a time.

Last night I dreamt about weather and woke up wondering what had happened to the snow. In my sleep I tried to make a list of the ways a person's heart can break, but that's an impossible list. I remember saying, "Oh, and when you see someone on the subway who looks so sad you want to touch their face, but you know you never will." This all sounds sort of glum, but it was nice, like playing boardgames inside while it's cold outside, sitting in a wood-paneled room. Oh, that doesn't make any sense, but that's how it felt.

In other news, I am trouble. I had this whole other thing written here, but I just had a conversation that sort of turned that around. Possibly. I don't even begin to know what I want. Except that I know I'd like it if everyone else could be frozen in time for the next forty-eight hours so that I could have some time to breathe. So that I could have some time in which to just walk around in the last bits of summer without feeling like I've stolen some peace that I'm not entitled to. Everything will be alright. Everything will be a pain and a hassle, but then it will be alright. If things have to go wrong, at least I get to have fall here to comfort me. Fall and new Foyles, everything is okay.