I've been in some sort of funk the past few days. The kind of funk where you're so spacey you accidentally end up brushing your teeth for three extra minutes because you're thinking about something else. Or maybe that's just me. In any case, it would be hard not to write about the goings-on in my little world.
Last week there was some drama in that I completely broke down and let nearly everything out, every emotion, every problem, every struggle that has been clinging to my innards for a while. Not only this, but I had a very serious talk with my mum in which I told her I don't want to live with her anymore. This was all at my friend's house. After arguing for quite a while, a third party talked some sense into her, and the next day she came to pick me up, apparently having been changed. I was so afraid of being alone with her in that car, but she has legal right over me so I had to go. Things turned out to be better. She has calmed down a great deal, and is pretty much unrecognisable from the parent I used to have. At least for now. But I'm happy, because now I know that if I need to run, it'll be much less of a deal than before. I won't have a ton of emotional roadblocks deterring me.
On the more romantic side of things, everything has fallen apart. I had almost completely kicked the habit of thinking about him, when brief contact was made. It isn't completely unexpected. I told everyone the truth; that if he talks to me, I'll be hopeless. It's so true that I think I should become a fortune-teller or one of those people that predicts trends. Ha. Ha. Even worse, he didn't seem to particularly mind me! Ah, things would be different if he hated me. I'd stay away and almost completely forget him. I say almost because I won't technically be actually able to forget him, because of how much of an imprint he has made in my memory. I know my own feelings, as possibly stated in earlier posts, it tends to be the only thing I'm really ever sure of, but these conflict immensely with the fact that I don't want to be on his bad side. I don't want to irritate him, but he doesn't seem irritated. Maybe he's just polite, but I believe he is the sort of person who is capable of expressing their opinion about people regardless of repercussions. He probably has tons just like me. Why do I always secretly try to convince myself that he doesn't, though? Where's the sense in that? Oh, wait, I forgot. I don't really make a lot of sense anyways. I'm quite possibly one of the least rational/objective people that one could get to know.
I'll write when I might make more sense.
Forever,
N
P.S. It's spring.
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