Sometimes i think this cycle never ends
i did that perks quiz. i got patrick. most of my answers were split between sam and charlie though. i tried to be honest.
i've been in a such a weird funk all day. sad and quiet for no reason with a breif period of no attention span and massive hyperness-- but not in a fun way. i wrote pretty upsetting quasi-poem during math. sam asked me what i was writing. i didn't tell her because i didn't want to say no if she asked to read it. i was dying to listen to transatlanticism all day, just to feel happy and mellow and nostalgic (although the nostalgia is justa vague feeling because death cab doesn't have any real memories attached).
i want the next two weeks to be over already. it seems like the schedule gods give me week after week of nothingness and lazing, and then pile on a years worth of deadlines and activities into a 14 day timespan. mid-may can't come any faster. it means i go to mexico and danny comes home for the year. things are always better when danny is home. i miss him a lot.
writing in this journal depresses me. it reminds me how trivial and mundane and completelly normal my life is. how the height of my social existance consists of starbucks or good dvds or random house hopping (not even). and i enjoy myself in a quiet kind of way, i love my friends, and i appreciate my life-- but i just can't get the need to do more out of my gut. or the nagging thought that my life is numb and pointless, that i don't really feel or live or love deeply, i don't experience heartbreak or pain or sheer joy, or any intense feeling. i just exist in that healthy, ordinary way that most everyone does. i want more.
I am waiting for something to go wrong
i've been in a such a weird funk all day. sad and quiet for no reason with a breif period of no attention span and massive hyperness-- but not in a fun way. i wrote pretty upsetting quasi-poem during math. sam asked me what i was writing. i didn't tell her because i didn't want to say no if she asked to read it. i was dying to listen to transatlanticism all day, just to feel happy and mellow and nostalgic (although the nostalgia is justa vague feeling because death cab doesn't have any real memories attached).
i want the next two weeks to be over already. it seems like the schedule gods give me week after week of nothingness and lazing, and then pile on a years worth of deadlines and activities into a 14 day timespan. mid-may can't come any faster. it means i go to mexico and danny comes home for the year. things are always better when danny is home. i miss him a lot.
writing in this journal depresses me. it reminds me how trivial and mundane and completelly normal my life is. how the height of my social existance consists of starbucks or good dvds or random house hopping (not even). and i enjoy myself in a quiet kind of way, i love my friends, and i appreciate my life-- but i just can't get the need to do more out of my gut. or the nagging thought that my life is numb and pointless, that i don't really feel or live or love deeply, i don't experience heartbreak or pain or sheer joy, or any intense feeling. i just exist in that healthy, ordinary way that most everyone does. i want more.
I am waiting for something to go wrong