I don't really know what I'm supposed to say at this point. Sure, there's a lot I could say. I'm still trying to earn back the man I love, later today I find out if I get into psychology, I painted my nails. There's always something to say, I just don't know what it is.
I suppose I could talk about how things are going in my love life. I want to say well. I can't say that I've made any progress, but that can be expected. It's been about a week. I suppose that there's a lot less fighting since I've been grounded, and I think that's very good. Actually, I can say that is certainly progress. When I said progress before, I was referring particularly to the wish. But I suppose the lack of fighting would be included in the, possible, recovery of a relationship. Anyways, that isn't the point. I think things are going to be okay between us. I mean, yes, I still have my fair about of skanky, fat, and stupid competition (did I just type that out loud?), but why would he bother to keep me around unless he had strong enough feelings for me that he didn't want to let me go? (I just squee-d a little inside thinking about him caring about me that much).
I don't know if I'm impatient or more logical than the people I'm associating with, but I'm having a pretty awful time dealing with setting up my college classes. Classes start two weeks from yesterday and that's not a lot of time to enroll for a class and pre-order books, especially with a major as popular as psychology. Even more, people take psychology classes for all sorts of things too. I want to get into my class really bad.
Yo pienso como espanol no ese bueno para me ahora. ( <-- And that sentence proves it). Maybe I should just take my two years of Russian instead.
I haven't painted my nails in a few weeks, but I decided to touch them up with some new paint on my fingers and toes. My fingers are in a shade called Always Amethyst and my toes are a baby blue (expect the big toe; it's black with teal sparkles). It's silly, I can only paint nine of my fingernails because I accidentally cut my finger shaving about three days ago. (Of course no one on the internet cares about this paragraph, or the rest of my blog, at all).
I hate to admit it, but I'm really worried about money in college. Sure, my parents are paying for all the major expenses (I got extremely lucky), but I'm still going to have to buy my little things that will run out. Makeup, food, cleaning supplies, tissues, and so much I'm not even thinking of at the moment. But it really scares me. My schedule is scattered around like crazy, and from what I've heard, being a freshmen is hard. I worry about making ends meet, I really do. Where could I even get a job? Everyone on campus is probably full, and even if I could get a job there, when would I work? My Friday nights and weekends? I have no problem with that except for the worry of homework booking my weekends instead. I haven't really been able to sleep much while the stress keeps me up at night.
I suppose I'm going to hang out with an old friend of mine in a couple days. We dated for a while about three years ago and he was my first kiss. He was much older than I am and he taught me a lot, but certainly not everything. We were both just kids and looking back on the whole relationship makes me giggle with immaturity now.
So, here I sit: computer on bed, five in the morning, watching a friend Livestream a game called Mistake of Pythagoras, wearing a pokemon t-shirt and men's Spongebob pants. My cats sleeping in my open drawer full of shorts and I painted Chinese on my wall. And I'm realizing now that for however much I want to be different, I'm really just like everybody else.
'My short conversation lasts the closed goodbye,
our hello was destined and met.
Where on the Aurora Borealis did our eyes first glance upon the other.
How regret stings the end of my words and breaths like mints in mouths of children.
Yet the roaring waves of reality pound down on me in my dreams,
spinning the stories I told myself as a child.
We fear the strangers to meet ourselves.'
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