Drove south on I-95. Little places I had never seen before reminded me of my home: the wooden houses with debris in their yards. The sky was dark gray and trees bent around the road. On the radio: "Somewhere, deep down inside, he knew he was driving down a dead-end street." It has been a long time since I felt so captured by a song. This life could have been my own; it is one possible development of my own. I could feel this half-life inside of me, and started to cry as we continued down the road.
Today I went through a blog I used to read long ago, found by pressing a "random" LiveJournal button sometime before 2008. Even then her posts were old enough for me to feel disconnected and apart from them. I remembered the blue background and her moves from place to place; her long distance relationships the shifting set of icons; her struggle to find success in love. For twelve years or more I've remembered her face, and when it came to my mind, I longed for her to be happy. Yet even back then I had wanted to say something, to let her know that someone was reading. And now the moment has passed.