my feet feel bigger and my hands swing heavily at my sides.

my eyes sting from reading so late at night.
my phone is quiet and empty.
it's mostly my fault.
i'm the one that's choosing to leave.
at least i'm on top of my homework.
this weather is wishy-washy and gray.
it makes me feel noncommittal and restless.
i want something to happen.
i want to make something happen, but i'm feeling uncreative and sentimental.
yesterday i watched my parents' wedding slideshow, which i do a lot.
they met at eleven years old.
my dad wrote in his journal after night games, "i'm going to marry pamelyn west."
it makes me jealous and nervous.
i'm too old for that now.
i wish i heard them say "i love you" more.
i miss jacob.
i wish my hair wasn't darkening with the coldness outside.
i wish my fingers remembered how to play the harp.  
but they've grown soft, and accustomed to pens, not strings.