I don't have the heart to hurt you

Sigh. It might be time to get a new pair of sweatpants. I've had these since my sophomore year at MTSU and, despite the elastic overkill and numerous crotch holes, I'm still in love with them. They're soft and faded and smell of hopes and dreams. They were my skinny pants, my fat pants, my lazy pants, my lounge pants, my running-to-Wal-Mart-at-2 a.m. pants. I wrote papers, worked out, cooked egg noodles, and did drugs in these pants. Possibly all in the same day, but who remembers?

Entropy, you win. But the bloody corpse will rest peacefully under my bed. Sweet dreams, my love.