Dear Diary

Dear Diary,
It was such a beautiful day today. So inspiring. The warm southerly wind felt like sweet puppy's breath across my cheek. And yet, spring is so far away. Perhaps I'd better not think of it. It fills me with dread to do so.

I saw her again today. She looked so lovely, it filled me with a sense of longing. And hope. And so many other feelings. It felt as though I were bursting with a bountiful cornucopia of delicious emotions. We were so close, yet so far away. She was only across the street, but she walked in the opposite direction, and I felt not at my best, since my eyelid was closed shut because I mistook the super glue for the saline solution.

Today the store was filled with a special display of gardening tools and a vast, neverending supply of seeds: hearty and healthful fruits and vegetables, etheral and fragrant flowering annuals and perennials of every shape, size and color. It filled me with such a feeling of anticipation. Then I realized I was in the wrong store.

Just awakened from a fitful sleep. I am filled with such a feeling of indescribable misconfernation. Or something. The night is so dark, much like the recesses of my soul, a beautiful onyx stone dropped in a deep well on a cloudy night of the winter solstice with no moon or snow to reflect the hope of the manifestation of the coming day. Will the morn never arrive?