It is absolutely unreal how badly I wish I were going to France tomorrow.
I don't know if I've ever mentioned this before, but I really loved that trip.
And I want to go back.
Instead I'll probably just stay in Amherst and take a test on plagues and thank my lucky stars that I don't have a debilitating bacterial infection.
I'm thinking I'd endure the pus if I knew when I'd be able to see the inside of Notre Dame again.
I would love to be able to rewind, and clearly see where the past ended and the present began, where this now blatantly obvious change began to take effect, when I started to fall back instead of skip foward, and exactly when I began to lose the things that I so desparately wanted to keep.
I'll always separate France from everything else. It has to be that way, because nobody else can possibly understand.
I should have thrown my passport in the Seine when I had the chance. I would have made an excellent street robot.
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