bones, bones, brittle little bones

i am realizing that the home plus speakers i bought today were 6 bucks for a reason. it's kind of like listening to a band playing while wrapped in aluminum foil inside a microwave.
this morning, a washing machine, desk, rolly chair, tv table, and tv were delivered to my door. now it actually looks like someone lives here. it's pretty exciting. especially the rolly chair. i've never had one of my own. i feel like i can roll all over my apartment without worrying about what other people think.
i'm going through that high fidelity stage of my life where i start thinking about my exes and wondering what went wrong. last night, i stared at the ceiling for two hours reconstructing scenes from sapelo island, trying to remember what it smelled like, what we said to each other. i can never remember the mundane everyday dialogue, the real fabric of relationships. what did we talk about? did we laugh as much as we should have? was there a real connection, or was it just static? how do these things happen? it means so much, and then one day you wake up and you can't remember someone's middle name or what their voice sounds like. and yet we're really all just composites of our past. the people we knew, the ways we knew them, the places we knew them in... that's what makes us. but we lose the details and retain the impression.