HOME IN 2 DAYS
So my plane for home leaves in something like 24 hours, which means that in a couple slightly painful and drawn out days-- mostly, after some grueling 20 hours of in flight angst-- I will be back home with my beloved mother and father, sleeping in my own bed, or preferably near-catatonic on the couch in front of my tv consuming Coldstone's ice cream. AAAAAAH! God, it all sounds so wonderful...
The last legs of this trip have been extremely wearing. Pamplona was out of control, I am so glad that I got to experience it, but at the same time it was so draining and fucked up. I don't even want to describe it right now, cuz it was so crazy...Additionally, an incident with a boy-- which I have to wait to post about seeing as the wrong party is currently with me in this room-- has momentarily traumatized me, and I need to get home immediately and make out with Mike or Alex, because they are the antithesis of this person, and are like babyblankets or stuffed animals- really comforting. Really, really really comforting, and that's what I need right now: COMFORT. Im about to cry thinking about how nice it would be to be lying on Alex's bed watching some movie and cuddling... oh. my. lord. Kissing Alex right now would be... oh im gonna cry.
Speaking of kissing and of boys, I forgot to mention a huge breakthrough that happened three weeks ago the morning of my flight to Madrid:
So I'm sleeping peacefully, when my cellphone (OMG MY CELL PHONE! I MISS MY GD CELL PHONE!) starts ringing. I answer it twice, but both times, either my phone or the other persons phone cuts off, and I'm left saying hello to a dead line. Finally, I look at the number and it takes me a minute and it'd been so long I barely recognized it until suddenly like big, bold, blinking neon I realize who that number belongs to; G R E G. Greg. Greg. I stared at my phone for probably five minutes trying to in some way process this information in my mind, and once it's processed, I start willin with all my might for him to call back, to call again, when my phone buzzes and I get this text (more or less):
Look, I want to squash our shit from the past. I was a dick (****maybe the most important part of that message) and I want you to know...
And it cut off there. And immediately, Im like, want you to know what, want you to know WHAT??? And so instead of waiting for the ending to this message, I call him back and ask, innocently, quitely, calmly, "Hey, did you just call me?" And in about a five min conversation, what comes out is this: he's sorry about what happened. HE is SORRY about what happened between US. He's sorry he was a dick, and he doesnt want things to be awkward anymore between us, because the last time we hung out it was awkward, and it shouldn't be, because he thinks I'm tight as hell. And what's most mind blowing about all this is that it's two a.m. and I'm leaving for Madrid in five hours and it's been a week since we saw each other last and most of all and importantly, because He called Me, unprovoked, out of the blue, and because all this is in his words.
the rest of his text came as soon as we hung up:
know that i really am sorry....