The Sweet Honey Of Nostalgia

I feel them dribbling down my cheeks, rivers warm like Memaw's mollassas, each droplet a bulb, a seed pleading to grow forevermore. It reaches the soil of my dry, parched lips, running through the crevices oh so chapped until it reaches my tongue. By now, the droplets are a mere fermentation of salt, and as I swallow them down they burn worse than alcohal. Each droplet running, overlapping over each other, so valiently embedding itself into my heart. Roots sprawl out, like veins, and beat blood so red as my sorrowful eyes. I reach a tender, softspoken hand still trembling from the sadness to my heart. I hold back a sigh as the woes inside of me blossom into a sapling, a tree, a tree of branches that are knots, making my stomach so dizzy that not even a whole bottle of antacids could keep it at bay. The leaves of this sadness bear down over this world, this life. It feels a twang of embarressment, of pity, but despite it all, it feels warm like a mug of frothy hot cocoa. It feels like the steam on autumn's car door, with little smiles drawn by tender hands into the window-sweat. It feels like dipping toes into the bubbles of a hot tub, drawing away the stress pulsating through one's veins. It feels like a summer day, sprawled on the sand and simpering to the sun. It feels like walks in the woods wearing oversized winter coats and the crinkle of leaves beneath your big, brown boots.

This is what it feels to read over this blog.

And so, with a heavy heart, I am so sorry to reveal to you that Foamin Frodo with a Fro has died, last night on October 7 at 8:12 in the evening.

JUST KIDDING!

Foamin Frodo with a Fro has been fine! A few scientists did some experiments on him to figure out his lifespan, and it turns out, he will live another 189 years! Cool beans.

From these experiments, he became rich. He spent some of his money to help cure Percy Jackson of temporary Foamitus and now he's living it large. He lives in Uzbekistan, but travels around outerspace and the world with his band FoamFlux, where they sing songs such as "I'm Stuck in a Vending Machine, I'm Covered in Rubba Cement, I like Jam and Preserves but not Jelly, I'm Going to Fill Your Bucket with Foam, Quiero comer a tu, etc."

It seems as if Foamin Frodo with a Fro's life is perfect.

Everything is at peace, so maybe it shall be a good time to say goodbye to this blog forevermore. It seems as we've grown apart, our moments shared are fleeting. It feels as if everything we've loved is hopelessly gone. All things must end, and could this be our ending? Who knows! I've changed, Frodo has changed, you have changed. Must we hold onto the stories of our past with such a firm grip?

It feels like everything that has fallen apart has finally fallen into place.

Farewell, Foamites.

For now.