I took a walk. Something they fail to mention when you sign on to the dorms (and you fail to think of in your consideration of it) is that it�s binding, twiceover. Of course you have to pay for it, that being the first. The second is that a dorm isn�t a house, not in size or comfort. With that loss of space and ease goes your potency in all motions. It clips your movement; it clips your imagination. It�s too easy to suffocate in the congestion of your rebounding thoughts, in those short and thin dimensions. So I took a walk.

Unfortunately, walks and feet don�t write papers.

I just realized; a diary is something of dialogue with an imaginary lover. How desirous...

And I just realized; I don't know the difference between a friendship and love...