25 November 2000 ~ The crummy hotel over Washington Square...

Have been doing some last minute packing, and found an old mix tape somebody made for me last winter.

Now I see you standing with brown leaves falling all around and snow in your hair... Now you're smiling out the window of that crummy hotel over Washington Square... Our breath comes out white clouds, mingles and hangs in the air... Speaking strictly for me, we both could have died then and there..."

I am convinced this is the saddest song ever.

Can't sleep. Four hours until I have to get up, and I'm not asleep yet. Was contemplating finishing off Aaron's Bailey's, but have decided against it. Whatever. My last night here, and my last night with my journal for a week or two. Might as well just go to my room and play this song over and over until I've cried myself to sleep.

One more email.

Sent.

'Night.

~Helena*