turn around and repeat three times....

Matt once used the quote “you’re true blue, Ethel” in association with me. And I’ve always taken pride in being upfront, and real and not fakey. More and more I realize even though I’m not fakey in the stab people in the back way, I can’t BE upfront and real unless I know my own opinions first. I find myself in debates… and not knowing whether the word I’m about to use is right.. or whether my facts are straight, or most importantly whether I’m playing devils advocate or not.
I don’t know. I forget too easily. I think I’m forgetting your faces. I know I’m forgetting your laughs. Even though we’re not supposed to cling on to each other, it’s okay to want to right? To want to be there? –even if we can’t do much good? Stupid over 1000K mile distances.

I slept through class today- the class I really needed to be at because I don’t know what I’m doing with Spenser. I don’t know what I’m doing. I love English. I love hearing people talk about English- and through that hearing their own passions for the literature. And to let you in on a secret you may already know, or in the opposite direction- may not want to believe- I don’t know what I’m doing when I’m with people like that. Why compare myself? Because I HAVE to. I hate floundering. But I love English.. so what do I do? Keep floundering?

I think this is my space to be ‘I’ ‘I’ ‘I’ because I like being ‘you’ ‘you’ ‘you’ normally. This is the spear to my side where all my inside stuff about me can come out.

This is turning out to be a negative post.

Can I love you right now? Because I want to.

I want to stand and talk to someone while hugging them. I can’t do that with guys because then there’s a stigma attached- and here… I’m not close to the girls. I’m not comfortable with them. I want to fit together like puzzle pieces or just be able to grab someone for a hug, or take naps next to each other. Or just get coffee- or uncoffee. Or be able to talk about anything. Everything.

No time no time no time.

I want to make something beautiful. I don’t feel like anything beautiful has come out of me in a long time.

(I want to be beautiful- by making beautiful things)

I’m not as weird as I usually am. I don’t feel like myself. I’m fitting into skin that is too loose- I told you that things change and we have to change with it, but we’re still ourselves. But jeez, weirdness has been a part of me for longer than I can remember. It’s like the phantom limb syndrome. I want to scratch it but I reach and find air.

When I get pensive- I get dreary and critical of myself. Life here is good. Life here is just- Hard. Confusing maybe. But the Good times come as often as the bad.