NZ blues
i love coming to this internet cafe because they play music I love, music for people who love music, music I could talk about to those back home who love music.Today is Whatangi Day, aka New Zealand day. I don't feel festive at all. In fact, all I can think about it running as fast as I can over the pacific Ocean back to somewhere that will allow me to be embrased by someone who not only loves me, but understands me. Ian and Tara are at Shooter's watching the Superbowl, and I could care less about a football game or beer at this moment. We woke up late dissing Tara, because we had made plans to hike up Mt. Cook and then eat pancakes. We still hiked up, but I couldn't make it to the top. I felt pathetic. I hate asthma- even more than jellyfish and ticks and almost as much as really mean rude people. Ian had surpassed me long before I realized this, but just as my chest was starting to get tight and my breaths more and more struggled. He left me, and when I told him why I couldn't make it to the top he only said "Sorry" because he knew if he didn't I would be angry. But I'm angry at this fact, angry that he left me, and angry at myself. This is the straw, and I am broken. I have sent my good friend Kellie Bentz an email asking if there are in positions in NOLA, where she is with Americorps. If there are, I am gone, and on my way back to recouperation from everything.
This is so wrong. I shouldn't be feeling like this. I guess I know this isn't the last time I will go where I want. And it won't be the last time that I leave because I feel as if I shouldn't be somewhere.
This is so wrong. I shouldn't be feeling like this. I guess I know this isn't the last time I will go where I want. And it won't be the last time that I leave because I feel as if I shouldn't be somewhere.