2001-04-01 :: 10:51 p.m.

Everything is moving so fast.

Everyone around me, all my friends, spinning out in different trajectories, all crazy with their lives and frantic with the speed of it all.

In six months, 26.

And my mom. For the first time a couple of days ago I actually saw the age creep over her. The lines, the grey hair. The first signs of arthritis.

And I can ask "where did the time go?" but I know, because I watched it go. I watched my mom's hair go from jet black to the reddish dye she uses now to cover up all the white. I watched her decrease in height.

I watched Laurie. She painted her nails black when we were twelve. She painted scary landscapes. We snuck out. We envied training bras. Now on the verge of her wedding.

Eight years ago I would have not thought twice about how things with him would have arrived at this point and are still moving, hurtling, each of us now on our own paths, different rotations. Speed of light, a piece of me with him, and away he goes. It didn't occur to me at 18.

It's clear that people disappear, and things, and thoughts.

Rock Star Ex.

I wrote those words with a secret wish to keep them still.

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