backwards

i fell in love with a notebook:

i know. it's silly. how can i fall in love with an inanimate object? it can hardly begin to love me back. it doesn't live or breathe or do anything for me unless i do something to it first. but i fell in love with a notebook a few days ago. i was heartbroken when i arrived in my hometown without it... i left it on the coffee table back in my apartment in seattle.
how can i fall in love with a piece of secondhand something else? it was in the "various silverware" bin at the overly trendy hipster hangout of value village on capitol hill. it was already written in- really, we're talking secondhand. there were drunken scrawls of love lost and dreams of moving to seattle. some of the writing was hardly legible. there was a "stalking list" with phone numbers in the back. it's already half used, and what's worse... there's a $1.99 green-tag sticker on the back that i'm sure will never come off entirely.
but i really had to have it.
i have my barnes and noble discount- i could have bought the same thing for a decent price free of drunken lamentations... but... i felt for the lonesome writer with dreams of leaving california for seattle.

it took me a whole two days to realize my best friend has the exact same journal somewhere. one of the few things she takes with her wherever she moves to... i guess i've been holding it so close to my heart because it reminds me of her-- something we share... something like how i wish i could hold her hand wherever she goes.

sometimes there's nothing at all you can do about the little losses in life.
i can't explain it much better than that.