Emo, Sure, But Classy About It
(Yeah I know I haven't written in this thing in like two years, but there's no one to talk to because everyone with any facsimile of a life or common sense has long since gone to bed, and the second best thing is talking to no one and pretending someone is listening.)
If you have to be emo, sitting in front of a fireplace sipping a root beer listening to the Ink Spots watching the rain on the water in the middle of the night is really the only good way to do it. I spent about an hour doing that, and made up a game called Lets See How Much Shit I Can Get Done Before The Sun Comes Up. So far, I'm winning. Better backtrack a bit and start at the beginning.
I almost left tonight. I was listless so I went out for a drive and before I knew it I was at the city limits and it took a whole lot of debate to turn myself around. In the end I justified it as a trip to a far-away grocery store for a hard-to-find root beer, but there was a lot of thought that went into staying. I also went out because I was missed having someone to talk to in the rain in the middle of the night while watching the city. Which, I will admit, is a pretty silly reason to go out alone. Unsurprisingly, I got lonely, so I texted the first person who came to mind - and was reasonably likely to be awake - sorry for weirding you out, Sarah. She was pretty unnerved by how unlike myself I was sounding, but as I explained later, I don't sound like my usual self because I don't feel like my usual self.
My usual self is content to coast, or drift, or whatever. My usual self is happy to be ordinary, willing to accept whatever comes along. That's not who I used to be, that's not who I should be, and that's not who I want to be. A little more ragging on myself before I meander on: My usual self gives far, far more attention to other peoples' problems than my own - not that it's bad to put other people first, but not always by such a wide margin - and doesn't trust my instinct nearly enough. I'm writing in livejournal by the seat of my pants!
Now that everyone (including me) is confused, I'd just like to say that having a girlfriend I feel a little guilty that I have such a filthy kitchen because she has to endure it too, but having a girlfriend I feel a little better about my filthy kitchen because I know it isn't entirely my own doing. It'll be a moot point pretty soon anyway.
Two hours and thirty-six minutes left till sunrise. I think I can win my game. (You, however, just lost the game.)
If you have to be emo, sitting in front of a fireplace sipping a root beer listening to the Ink Spots watching the rain on the water in the middle of the night is really the only good way to do it. I spent about an hour doing that, and made up a game called Lets See How Much Shit I Can Get Done Before The Sun Comes Up. So far, I'm winning. Better backtrack a bit and start at the beginning.
I almost left tonight. I was listless so I went out for a drive and before I knew it I was at the city limits and it took a whole lot of debate to turn myself around. In the end I justified it as a trip to a far-away grocery store for a hard-to-find root beer, but there was a lot of thought that went into staying. I also went out because I was missed having someone to talk to in the rain in the middle of the night while watching the city. Which, I will admit, is a pretty silly reason to go out alone. Unsurprisingly, I got lonely, so I texted the first person who came to mind - and was reasonably likely to be awake - sorry for weirding you out, Sarah. She was pretty unnerved by how unlike myself I was sounding, but as I explained later, I don't sound like my usual self because I don't feel like my usual self.
My usual self is content to coast, or drift, or whatever. My usual self is happy to be ordinary, willing to accept whatever comes along. That's not who I used to be, that's not who I should be, and that's not who I want to be. A little more ragging on myself before I meander on: My usual self gives far, far more attention to other peoples' problems than my own - not that it's bad to put other people first, but not always by such a wide margin - and doesn't trust my instinct nearly enough. I'm writing in livejournal by the seat of my pants!
Now that everyone (including me) is confused, I'd just like to say that having a girlfriend I feel a little guilty that I have such a filthy kitchen because she has to endure it too, but having a girlfriend I feel a little better about my filthy kitchen because I know it isn't entirely my own doing. It'll be a moot point pretty soon anyway.
Two hours and thirty-six minutes left till sunrise. I think I can win my game. (You, however, just lost the game.)