(no subject)
Euphie came upstairs to my closed door and pawed at it - I could hear her nails scrape at the bottom of the door. She doesn't usually paw at things. I let her in and left the door cracked, which I never do, just in case she wants out.
I think she knows I'm lonely, even without giving one outward sign that I am missing you, even though it hasn't even been a whole day since I left you. But she's there, guarding the door, guarding me.
So now, with my Scottish Terrier in tow, I'm going to listen to the rain until I fall asleep.
But it's that time between asleep and awake that I might miss you the most. I think that's why I'm putting off sleep, even though my legs are aching and begging me to conk out.
I realised that I stopped writing while dating Michael. Maybe it's because I spent all my time writing to him, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but because I stopped writing, I feel somehow artistically retarted. It feels good and strong to have words flowing again.
I miss someone else...but it's been alarmingly easy to accept that loss. It makes me want to reevaulate all of my friendships or maybe reevaluate my independence. I think I'll do the former and keep the latter. It does make me sad, mostly it makes me confused. I still wish I had an answer as to why.
I know that you hate that I love P.s. I Love You so much, but I can't help it. It reminds me of you when you're not around. It's alarming how similiar the characters are to you and me. It makes me feel closer to you when I can't hear your voice. God, I miss your voice. Going to bed with you is my favorite part of the day, because the things we talk about are so real and intimate and sincere. I look forward to living with you. I immensly look forward to living with you. And when you tell me a story, you're right next to my ear and you're soft spoken without compromising your masculinity, a difficult task indeed.
But I hate your squeeky mattress. Every tiny little shift in my sleep or your sleep is echoed by a huge SQUEEK and I think I've accidentally woken up the entire complex. I'm not looking forward to that. And your decorating reeks of boy, and consequently, KDR. Orange and blue are nice but they are not the epitome of decorating colors. I supposed we're the only ones to be in the bed though, and as long as I'm not freezing, I'm not completely opposed. They are soft covers, I'll give you that.
The curtains look really nice, by the way. I thought you were going to put them in the living room, but I like them in the bed room too. I really hope that room can fit all my stuff and all your stuff. I suppose we'll figure it out. I think I'll need a dresser. We'll have to go thrifting. But you seem to really like that, so it's all good. We'll figure it out.
My toe is causing quite a bit of pain. My boss stepped on it at work on accident on Sunday and it's been constantly throbbing since then. I think the nail may fall off and I really wish it would because it's painful.
My old matress was my dad's old matress from Roanoke and it's a Serta and it is a terribly hard mattress and it has one of those sheep on it. And it's freaking me out. Dumb sheep. Did anyone actually count sheep as children? I listened to music. Or thought about unicorns. Or counting the number of stripes on my wallpaper...
I think she knows I'm lonely, even without giving one outward sign that I am missing you, even though it hasn't even been a whole day since I left you. But she's there, guarding the door, guarding me.
So now, with my Scottish Terrier in tow, I'm going to listen to the rain until I fall asleep.
But it's that time between asleep and awake that I might miss you the most. I think that's why I'm putting off sleep, even though my legs are aching and begging me to conk out.
I realised that I stopped writing while dating Michael. Maybe it's because I spent all my time writing to him, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but because I stopped writing, I feel somehow artistically retarted. It feels good and strong to have words flowing again.
I miss someone else...but it's been alarmingly easy to accept that loss. It makes me want to reevaulate all of my friendships or maybe reevaluate my independence. I think I'll do the former and keep the latter. It does make me sad, mostly it makes me confused. I still wish I had an answer as to why.
I know that you hate that I love P.s. I Love You so much, but I can't help it. It reminds me of you when you're not around. It's alarming how similiar the characters are to you and me. It makes me feel closer to you when I can't hear your voice. God, I miss your voice. Going to bed with you is my favorite part of the day, because the things we talk about are so real and intimate and sincere. I look forward to living with you. I immensly look forward to living with you. And when you tell me a story, you're right next to my ear and you're soft spoken without compromising your masculinity, a difficult task indeed.
But I hate your squeeky mattress. Every tiny little shift in my sleep or your sleep is echoed by a huge SQUEEK and I think I've accidentally woken up the entire complex. I'm not looking forward to that. And your decorating reeks of boy, and consequently, KDR. Orange and blue are nice but they are not the epitome of decorating colors. I supposed we're the only ones to be in the bed though, and as long as I'm not freezing, I'm not completely opposed. They are soft covers, I'll give you that.
The curtains look really nice, by the way. I thought you were going to put them in the living room, but I like them in the bed room too. I really hope that room can fit all my stuff and all your stuff. I suppose we'll figure it out. I think I'll need a dresser. We'll have to go thrifting. But you seem to really like that, so it's all good. We'll figure it out.
My toe is causing quite a bit of pain. My boss stepped on it at work on accident on Sunday and it's been constantly throbbing since then. I think the nail may fall off and I really wish it would because it's painful.
My old matress was my dad's old matress from Roanoke and it's a Serta and it is a terribly hard mattress and it has one of those sheep on it. And it's freaking me out. Dumb sheep. Did anyone actually count sheep as children? I listened to music. Or thought about unicorns. Or counting the number of stripes on my wallpaper...