We are the music-makers / And we are the dreamers of dreams
"It's both refreshing and disconcerting to discover that an issue that's been bothering you isn't you being completely paranoid. It's bothering other people as well." ~Nellie's journal
True dat.
* * *
I have spent hours upon hours hand-sewing crazy brig instead of doing homework. This costume doesn't need to be done till late April. I'm a winner.
* * *
I have this snazzy little skill where things will be going really well, and then at the last moment I open my big mouth and wreck it. See above, re: I'm a winner.
* * *
I have a little hey-I-just-met-you crush on someone I, well, just met. I don't like it one bit. I'm far too emotionally screwed at the moment, I'm probably rebounding, and I'm terrified of the idea of being with someone who doesn't know me. I'm probably misreading signals anyway, apparently I don't read those too well. See above... re: I'm a winner.
* * *
Dear you,
Hearing your voice and knowing you're ok gives me more comfort than you can possibly imagine. I miss you terribly.
Dear you,
I'm here whenever you need me. You have my shoulder to cry on, my arms to hold you, and I'm great for making you laugh. Just call. I miss you terribly.
Dear you,
I wish we were closer physically because I know we'd be closer emotionally. You are a kindred spirit and I want to help you through the hard times. I miss you terribly.
Dear you,
I'm sorry for the way things are and I wish we could backtrack to the way things were. I feel you drifting away and I'm so scared. I miss you terribly.
* * *
This place is suffocating. It's so cold and so foul that all you can do is stay inside wrapped in sweater and blanket and you don't move, you want to hibernate but you have classes to get to. I itch and I scream for flying and for London and for energy, all my passion is inward and tiny stitches and oh god for once dance is not enough. There's nowhere to run here, nowhere to walk forever no escape, no secret place to call my own. I miss my cat.
Camden Market burned. I feel like I've been punched in the gut. Camden was one of My Places.
* * *
Getting sick and on the rag. It shows in the writing, I expect.
* * *
I love you.
True dat.
* * *
I have spent hours upon hours hand-sewing crazy brig instead of doing homework. This costume doesn't need to be done till late April. I'm a winner.
* * *
I have this snazzy little skill where things will be going really well, and then at the last moment I open my big mouth and wreck it. See above, re: I'm a winner.
* * *
I have a little hey-I-just-met-you crush on someone I, well, just met. I don't like it one bit. I'm far too emotionally screwed at the moment, I'm probably rebounding, and I'm terrified of the idea of being with someone who doesn't know me. I'm probably misreading signals anyway, apparently I don't read those too well. See above... re: I'm a winner.
* * *
Dear you,
Hearing your voice and knowing you're ok gives me more comfort than you can possibly imagine. I miss you terribly.
Dear you,
I'm here whenever you need me. You have my shoulder to cry on, my arms to hold you, and I'm great for making you laugh. Just call. I miss you terribly.
Dear you,
I wish we were closer physically because I know we'd be closer emotionally. You are a kindred spirit and I want to help you through the hard times. I miss you terribly.
Dear you,
I'm sorry for the way things are and I wish we could backtrack to the way things were. I feel you drifting away and I'm so scared. I miss you terribly.
* * *
This place is suffocating. It's so cold and so foul that all you can do is stay inside wrapped in sweater and blanket and you don't move, you want to hibernate but you have classes to get to. I itch and I scream for flying and for London and for energy, all my passion is inward and tiny stitches and oh god for once dance is not enough. There's nowhere to run here, nowhere to walk forever no escape, no secret place to call my own. I miss my cat.
Camden Market burned. I feel like I've been punched in the gut. Camden was one of My Places.
* * *
Getting sick and on the rag. It shows in the writing, I expect.
* * *
I love you.