bunker hill

There's a picture of Trotsky up on the wall of my classroom at school.  Somebody stuck a pair of little plastic glasses and a mustache on it.  The glasses make it hard to tell that his eyes are looking two different ways.
Today I had the saddest memory of a birthday party at a roller rink, my friend's eighth.  I wore my hair down for the first time in a long time, I used to wear it in a pony tail at the nape of my neck every day.  I got really good at skating (rolling? blading?), but couldn't stop, and ran into a pair of dividers.  I don't know why the memory was so depressing.  
Happy Wednesday


  1. memories in general always make me sad, in a "that was a legit sad memory" way or a "sad, that was such a good time I wish I could go back" way.

    <3 the girl.

  2. I love the randomness of memories, they just come and go.