Unwritten.
Don't you hate it when you have something to say but you don't know what it is? I think that's why I've been listening to spoken word artists so much lately, because they say it when I can't. And they name it when I don't know how to name it myself.
That sounds cryptic, and I don't mean it that way. I'm happy. I love living in Boulder with an incredible roommate. I love that I think good things are happening for me. I'm feeling healthier than I have in a while. I get to play with babies all day. And yeah, it's sort of exhausting, and obnoxious sometimes. But today, an 18 month old wanted me to hold him. Not just someone. Me. Which was cool. This isn't a forever job. There's too much bullshit. But babies are good. It's safe to love babies.
And now I'm going to finish cleaning and moving so that I can feel out of limbo.
That sounds cryptic, and I don't mean it that way. I'm happy. I love living in Boulder with an incredible roommate. I love that I think good things are happening for me. I'm feeling healthier than I have in a while. I get to play with babies all day. And yeah, it's sort of exhausting, and obnoxious sometimes. But today, an 18 month old wanted me to hold him. Not just someone. Me. Which was cool. This isn't a forever job. There's too much bullshit. But babies are good. It's safe to love babies.
And now I'm going to finish cleaning and moving so that I can feel out of limbo.