my favorite shirt, that no one ever sees except the occasional unfortunate roommate.

a friend of mine tiedyed t-shirts in eighth grade year for our christmas presents, and she gave me one.

now, it is almost completely disintegrated. there is no back left to the shirt. all the colors have faded except this terribly 70s pink and patches of yellow that now look like stains.

there are holes, and as i said no back to the shirt left. because of the threads holding this "shirt" together, it takes me ten minutes just to untangle it enough to figure out which gaping hole is the neck hole.

in fact, it is so not a shirt that i can't even wear it out of my room without indecency. if i roll over the wrong way, it rips more. i can't bear to wash it for fear it will just dissolve in water.

but i still have it, and i wear it to bed frequently.

why?

somehow, over the past twelve years, over the past pack upon pack of camel lights, over the moves, it has retained the smell of home.

i love that shirt.

sometime, i will take a picture of it, and let you bask in the glory of the "shirt."