[her journal is a journal today, because it's what she needs]

I spent the morning thinking about summers in Texas. The sticky, wet heat that used to sit all over your skin. The way the cracked vinyl seat in Daddy's truck would catch a body up and not want to let go. You'd be glued to it after driving halfway to anywhere, didn't matter if it was done the block. You would leave part of yourself behind, just getting out. The lake would be warm as a bath but it was still cooler than anything else, so that was where we'd all end up. I kissed my first boy there.

College was different. I didn't pay attention to the heat. Or at least I was too busy noticing other things to quite give it any attention.

And then in L.A.? Seemed like everyone was just too bust pretending they were cool to realize they weren't. And I meant that just how I said it. Temperature wise. Don't read more into that than there is.