carrying ciabatta rolls in your back pack.

dear christine,

you're gone. you think i don't know but you're in italy. you think no one knows. i bet tania knows. i saw the italy tour guide in your bedroom whenever it was i visited you. february? i don't quite remember. i'm sure it's italy and i'm sure you're alone, run off in a flurry that you created yourself, the flap of a butterfly's wings to the rest of the world.

tell me: is it romantic?

is it art?

is it all the perfection of a sharpened number 2 pencil and all the self-exploration of my so-called life?

i know you have run away or else you have simply not answered my phone calls and e-mails. sure, maybe you lost your phone and got a new e-mail address. these things happen i am not naive. in the same category: maybe you do not want to see me anymore. i do not mean to flatter myself when i say that this option seems unlikely.

following that thought: i want you here. with me. now. i hope, sincerely, that if you have run away and you are in italy, that it is everything you want and need, but i feel like i so badly need you with me now. i miss a lot of people right now, in varying degrees and for various reasons, but you are undoubtedly top of that list of people i miss.

i need a cool girl to talk to and laugh with and sit by the lake with and smoke with and make jokes with and watch my so-called life with and or any one of those and

shit it's all so pre-teen

but feeling out of place,

too opinionated (or something) to be popular and to square to be hip (in the good way)

it never goes away, and i think we're a little bit the same.

goddamn i have things to tell you and i know it's somehow narcissistic to want to be with some one you see as vaguely similar to yourself, but i want to tell you things and hear your answers. i don't care what jennifer has to say or ewelina. they are so five years ago. i want to tell you that i watched rachel getting married and i chose our wedding song. not yours and mine. but, well, whatever. while i watched that long fucking wedding scene at the end, i thought that if i ever were to marry him (impossible), i figured out the song that we would dance to. and i just wanted to tell you that.

so i hope your life is treating you well. i really do and i really hope you will tell me whenever you can see me again. even if it's as far away as september or october.

so,

much love,

and musings and salami and fine art and large loaves of bread,

and more love,

emma.