what do you do to survive?
so, this is home.
it's been nice. the past 5 days. for 4 of those i've shoveled. for all 5 of those i've been here, not venturing outside this thin gray walls. except for last night wanderings up the hill to jeremy's.
i've been listening too close to too much music. i'm finding meaning in too many words.
really, truly, honestly, is this what you wanted?
and really, truly, honestly, as comfortable as i am at home not stressing out, i don't like being here. i'm becoming more and more miserable as each day passes and i wake up in my room and get flooded with memories of you. my mother dearest is freaked out. i've buried myself in a project that involves stabbing my fingers with needles and straight pins every 20 seconds. i can't look at my room anymore without finding something that used to bring a smile to my face and now makes me sink deeper into this inner abyss.
i've also discovered that i'm trying not to talk as much as i used to. i don't want to always be going to you now. i need to be able to support myself, right? i've been told just to open up to other people, but i don't know if it's that i can't or that i don't want to, but either way that's not happening.
thus we have a quiet megan,
who'd rather be anywhere else right now. or drifting off in the dreamland that brings to life the "used-to-be's", the "could-be's", and the "might-have-beens". i'm much happier in my dreams. i think i'll stay there for this month.
so here's to putting on a big smile to see everyone.
and here's to being genuinely happy to see you once you get back.
and here's to tears on the inside. that you're not going to see anymore.
this entry is a lot more candid than i meant it to be.
oh well.
here's to being honest.
it's been nice. the past 5 days. for 4 of those i've shoveled. for all 5 of those i've been here, not venturing outside this thin gray walls. except for last night wanderings up the hill to jeremy's.
i've been listening too close to too much music. i'm finding meaning in too many words.
really, truly, honestly, is this what you wanted?
and really, truly, honestly, as comfortable as i am at home not stressing out, i don't like being here. i'm becoming more and more miserable as each day passes and i wake up in my room and get flooded with memories of you. my mother dearest is freaked out. i've buried myself in a project that involves stabbing my fingers with needles and straight pins every 20 seconds. i can't look at my room anymore without finding something that used to bring a smile to my face and now makes me sink deeper into this inner abyss.
i've also discovered that i'm trying not to talk as much as i used to. i don't want to always be going to you now. i need to be able to support myself, right? i've been told just to open up to other people, but i don't know if it's that i can't or that i don't want to, but either way that's not happening.
thus we have a quiet megan,
who'd rather be anywhere else right now. or drifting off in the dreamland that brings to life the "used-to-be's", the "could-be's", and the "might-have-beens". i'm much happier in my dreams. i think i'll stay there for this month.
so here's to putting on a big smile to see everyone.
and here's to being genuinely happy to see you once you get back.
and here's to tears on the inside. that you're not going to see anymore.
this entry is a lot more candid than i meant it to be.
oh well.
here's to being honest.