Three thirty three p.m., with lots of rain, hard rain, cold rain, soaking me inside and out, and a wind too harsh to give me any comfort. I've bought gloves that are 'feminine attractive' - es decir, that women tend to compliment me on and men tend to tell me look like "old lady gloves."

Feeling kind of old and noticing gray hair and an inability to sleep through nights, even next to warm and comforting bodies.

Life and friendship are sometimes unfortunate things. We try so hard to cultivate love, all kinds of love, to surround ourselves with it so that we may wrap ourselves in it on days such as these. It is hard to understand the boundaries of friendship; it is hard to work in established rules on who you can and who you can't be friends with. It is hard to work with your own emotions, your own misgivings.

I am finding solace in work lately, which is a pleasant surprise, as this semester I've been mostly shirking it and it is about time for me to crack down on my work ethic anyway. The methodical nature of my work, the time put in, is very comforting and satisfying. It is distracting. It pulls me away from the window and the garden, and narrows my view to the candle and the page.

I feel overindulged but not full, tired, but not sleepy. Exhausted of living in a system that does not work for me.

Reflective in the rain.