it's a convoluted mess
Three years ago I was sitting in a Caribou across the table from a boy I’d met online. We’d been conversing online and on the phone for close to three weeks and it had finally come to our first date…face to face. We spent almost EIGHT HOURS sitting there together, talking about everything and nothing, holding hands, staring at each other and out the window, awkward and shy, and by the time we finally left… Keep reading…Three Years…
November 18, 2007… The plan had been to meet for lunch on Sunday afternoon, though we both knew neither one of us would be the least bit hungry. Two introverts meeting face to face for the first time generally results in a lot of nerves. Appetites would be nonexistent. Meeting was the important part. Food was an afterthought. It had been three weeks of countless, long-winded emails and night after night of four-hour phone conversations… Keep reading…Chemistry Experiment…
Six more months…I have to keep reminding myself of that. Six more months until our lease is up. Six more months until Bob and I move into our own place. Six more months until we are out of the [in]direct line of fucking D!R!A!M!A! from an obnoxious, defiant teenager insistent on skipping school (or trying to) at least once a week by faking sick for one bullshit reason or another. Six more months.
Sleep? What’s this sleep you speak of? My ears feel weird. We stopped into Kay for my six-month ring cleaning and added my earrings into the mix to get them onto the same schedule. I also had them take a look at one earring in particular because it doesn’t latch as tight as the others. It gets knocked loose far too easily and I’m terrified I’m going to lose it somewhere. They had to send… Keep reading…Blinky…
This has become my every night. No matter what time I get up in the morning, I’m wide awake all night long. I crawl into bed with only a couple of hours until Bob’s alarm goes off for work. Something is not right. I don’t know what it is. — Something’s Wrong Tommy Stinson
My head is in a weird place I can’t quite explain. The gears are grinding on a few things I need to write about, I’m just not sure how to approach them. I’m worried I won’t be able to do them justice. That they’ll just come out sounding like drunken, haphazard, irate howler monkey rantings. But for the sake of my own sanity, they are things I need to write. So I’ll give them my… Keep reading…Grinding…