This entry took a weird turn, and became deep and meaningful, if only to me.

So I found another letter that I wrote, to a different person.
It brought back a flood of tumultuous feelings, thoughts, etc.

For the first day in a long, long time, I wish I was back at 9602 Rose View Court.
I want to change things that happened there.
I loved that place. It became just as much home as my parent's house... three thousand miles away.
I want to change things.
But the past cannot be changed. That house isn't even there anymore. It is, but it belongs to a different family. One that doesn't know me. One that wouldn't let me in if I showed up. One that wouldn't love me.

Those people I loved so much there... don't exist any more, either. Not as a family. The tides of divorce washed each of them to the sea. And, realistically, I don't think any of them will ever recover.
It washed me to the sea, too; a part of me, at least. Unfortunately, I swam back to safety on my own; when I arrived on the shore, I turned around, only to find myself alone. All alone.

Some days, I make plans to revisit certain places. Clearwater Beach, Florida. Arundel Mills Mall, MD. Baltimore. Nina's Dandy dinnerboat. Las Colinas.
But my trips to Las Colinas in recent years tell me all I need to know about those plans: avoid them. Because, when I go to Las Colinas, I make a harsh discovery:
I wrote a book some years ago, but now don't know how to read it.
It's bewildering.

On that note, it's time for a swim.
I have not met my body's nutritional needs in the last two days. Which is a fancy way of saying that I feel bad for abusing my stomach, and better go burn off some hamburger grease. Six hamburgers in three days is a BAD idea.
I am going to drown my sorrows... in the pool.