Yeah, so..Where was I?
No matter. Deal is, everyone (and I mean almost everyone I know) are having babies and/or getting married this year. Im not happy for them. I will be, promise, as soon as I live somewhere (anywhere as long as Im by myself now), as soon as Im no longer wearing plastic bags in my shoes to keep the snow out. I will be, whenever I stop feeling like such a looser and failure for not being there, wanting that, not stressing out about it.
I decided today to give myself January. My bestest birthday and xmas present to myself. As much as needed, during this month, Im allowed to mope, bitch, cry, all that, no holding back. Its ok.
Come February Im living somewhere on my own, am being most happy for all my friends and am succeeding in school, because of my international wit. Awesome.
Sunday, January 6
Saturday, January 5
Ive never wanted you more
Its true. And as it should be, there's nothing I can do about it, part from pining away at work.
I crave it, I long for it, I daze off in vivid dreams about it. When I do, I can almost feel the keys under my fingers, the strange light from the screen on my face, as if it was the only sun I know during winter. Which, of course, is close to true.
I guess thats why I miss blogging so much, Ive been racing to close to the boundries of honesty land.
Here, everyone speaks their mind. Short, heart-felt injections of their reactions to your actions all the time. O-rama.
And I am forced to do the same. The realisation of my nature being a bad one, a defect one, wasnt the lightbulb moment I wouldve hoped, but a crawling chill rather. So I adjusted - No, I changed - I "worked on it"? - Fuck you, I was easily swayed by the idea of Mine being something Broken. And so I agreed. To adjust. I bought into the myth of ... Of a lot of things.
And you know, when theres so much else going on. Who are we kidding, there's always so much else going on.
But when youre trying to do these things you know are right, you know? The studies, the togetherness. All those things Im so brilliantly horrible at. And everything you touch turn to shit. To be continued.
I crave it, I long for it, I daze off in vivid dreams about it. When I do, I can almost feel the keys under my fingers, the strange light from the screen on my face, as if it was the only sun I know during winter. Which, of course, is close to true.
I guess thats why I miss blogging so much, Ive been racing to close to the boundries of honesty land.
Here, everyone speaks their mind. Short, heart-felt injections of their reactions to your actions all the time. O-rama.
And I am forced to do the same. The realisation of my nature being a bad one, a defect one, wasnt the lightbulb moment I wouldve hoped, but a crawling chill rather. So I adjusted - No, I changed - I "worked on it"? - Fuck you, I was easily swayed by the idea of Mine being something Broken. And so I agreed. To adjust. I bought into the myth of ... Of a lot of things.
And you know, when theres so much else going on. Who are we kidding, there's always so much else going on.
But when youre trying to do these things you know are right, you know? The studies, the togetherness. All those things Im so brilliantly horrible at. And everything you touch turn to shit. To be continued.
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