There's a café right up the street from me that serves bagels and "New York style hot dogs". And I stand there in awe, wondering if this is what the United States is...pickles and sickly sweet doughnuts and A&W root beer? I have no idea what to believe: you can't believe your eyes; you can't believe your ears; your mouth moves so fast that the words seemed blurred like rain running in ropes down my window.
It gets dark so quickly here; it's not even one o'clock where you are. What are you having for lunch? What are you writing about today? I get sad thinking about your letters; so many other people read them and somehow it makes them better, knowing that people are trying to figure you out (like me). I get you sometimes, but other times I'm just as lost as you are.
Sometimes you don't know whether to laugh or cry and when you laugh, your heart explodes and you can't help but say yes, over and over and over. I have never been so free as right now, staring down the barrel of a long range rifle, dreaming of first class and pomegranate vodka cocktails. Have this weird sense of vertigo, wrapped up with a side of déjà vu. It'll all end in a crash and then we'll all be a little bit better in the morning (when it doesn't look so bad).