January 17, 2002~~5:59 p.m.
Always wishing...

I was just in the bathroom and noticed the square of toilet paper that I blotted my lipstick on this morning sitting on the top of the wastebasket. And I thought. What if I die before that garbage gets taken out? Would he save that? That last impression of my lips. Would it make him feel like he had a kiss preserved forever?

And this is the problem with my life.

I can't have that because it isn't how men are. They don't think like that. And I refuse to believe that it's because they don't love as much or as deeply as we do. But the evidence does point in that direction.

I'm going to ask him about the lips when he gets home. Fifty bucks says he'll laugh at me.

~Alice