(no subject)
It snowed. Hurrah. Walking in to work was pleasant, albeit a little damp. I started thinking sad things. I was thinking about my dad, and how he's all alone, and my mom, who's all alone, and my sister, who's now alone, and myself, who is ALSO alone, but generally prefers it that way.
When I got home, and the girls weren't there, I felt kind of empty in an odd, motherly sort of way. I worried and fretted about them, telling myself that they're grown women, that they don't HAVE to call in to me and let me know where they are, that they're not dead or mugged or anything in the pouring rain/snow. They did come home (late), and I felt good about it for about two seconds until Steph said she and Ang were going back out to sit by the rocks and watch the city. Or something, I was reading. But it didn't strike me until after they left that it was still raining pretty hard out.
I've had little sleep for the last few days (sleeping on cement isn't nearly as nice as it sounds), and I can feel myself turning into bitchy, tired Natalie. Even coffee isn't working so far. I feel like my face looks like the Scribe's face on Stronghold, when all your peasants start leaving and your popularity falls below 50. Puckered, sour, unhappy. Or at least bland and bored.
~*~*~*~*~
In highschool, Marg and I would talk about where we wanted to be at 21. Of course, being 15 and 16 years old respectivly, 21 was a loooong way off. Her plans were for me to be married and have at least one kid she could coddle. We both dreamed of families at a young age, and we'd be -such- good mothers.
So here I am, halfway through 21. I live with my cat in a nice apartment, I have a stable, full-time job with benefits and a good wage, I'm coming out of my shell and meeting new people and making new friends even though sometimes I'm scared the bottom will drop out of my life suddenly, or that I'll wake up and this has all been a dream. I don't have a boyfriend because I don't -want- a boyfriend, I don't have a girlfriend because the one girl I would want to be with is just a stinking little tease. Add to that picture that I'm really such a mess inside my head that I don't think anyone would stick around long enough to wait for me to figure me out.
That turned out a lot more depressed sounding than I meant it to be.
~*~*~*~
I'm also opening up more of my posts, because I've decided I really don't give a rat's ass what my mother's friends who find my journal think of me. I have nothing to hide.
When I got home, and the girls weren't there, I felt kind of empty in an odd, motherly sort of way. I worried and fretted about them, telling myself that they're grown women, that they don't HAVE to call in to me and let me know where they are, that they're not dead or mugged or anything in the pouring rain/snow. They did come home (late), and I felt good about it for about two seconds until Steph said she and Ang were going back out to sit by the rocks and watch the city. Or something, I was reading. But it didn't strike me until after they left that it was still raining pretty hard out.
I've had little sleep for the last few days (sleeping on cement isn't nearly as nice as it sounds), and I can feel myself turning into bitchy, tired Natalie. Even coffee isn't working so far. I feel like my face looks like the Scribe's face on Stronghold, when all your peasants start leaving and your popularity falls below 50. Puckered, sour, unhappy. Or at least bland and bored.
~*~*~*~*~
In highschool, Marg and I would talk about where we wanted to be at 21. Of course, being 15 and 16 years old respectivly, 21 was a loooong way off. Her plans were for me to be married and have at least one kid she could coddle. We both dreamed of families at a young age, and we'd be -such- good mothers.
So here I am, halfway through 21. I live with my cat in a nice apartment, I have a stable, full-time job with benefits and a good wage, I'm coming out of my shell and meeting new people and making new friends even though sometimes I'm scared the bottom will drop out of my life suddenly, or that I'll wake up and this has all been a dream. I don't have a boyfriend because I don't -want- a boyfriend, I don't have a girlfriend because the one girl I would want to be with is just a stinking little tease. Add to that picture that I'm really such a mess inside my head that I don't think anyone would stick around long enough to wait for me to figure me out.
That turned out a lot more depressed sounding than I meant it to be.
~*~*~*~
I'm also opening up more of my posts, because I've decided I really don't give a rat's ass what my mother's friends who find my journal think of me. I have nothing to hide.