This entry probably won't be very entertaining since I've got this weird hybrid of wanderlust and total apathy kicking right now. So, yeah, I have a feeling that I'm going to ramble about dumb emotions. I'll understand if you want to go bake pies or masturbate or something.

I can't sit still. I can't focus on one thing and I can't even think about the future without feeling like I'm out of breath. I want to just fucking cry, but I can't. I want to just fucking leave, but I can't. Why does it feel like there's so much more and I'm a complete moron for not grabbing it while I have the chance? I could be dead in three minutes and what have I done? And it's not like I fear dying. Oh, no. That would be just another experience and the curiosity is killing me (ha ha). What I do fear, though, is dying without living. And tonight I can't stop thinking about it.

In Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, there's this one part where he says something about things not affecting her because she's perpetually moving. These things just can't catch her. That makes so much sense to me and it's so goddamn true that when you're going somewhere, always going somewhere, you're OK. That totally does not have anything to do with what I was talking about before but whatever. It's what's running through my head at this very moment.

I hate waiting and, even more so, I hate trying not to wait. Because who knows, right? Who knows if what I am (not) waiting for will get here?

It has been almost one month since I submitted that story. It usually takes almost one month for them to get back to me.

Am I...bored? Is that why I'm so fucking restless and not sleeping and actually acting without thinking about tomorrow? Am I contradicting myself?

Let's talk about a boy.

I wrote him a letter while I was in New York and have yet to send it. I'm not so sure I should. I read it to May and she said it sounded like an ultimatum. It does. I don't want ultimatums. I don't want him thinking that it's this or that or never again.

In this letter, I tried to explain that this lack of action is kinda, sorta fucking me up and something needs to happen, for better or for worse. What's funny in an oh-god-pass-me-that-fucking-bottle kind of way is I've said this all before. You know. How every action warrants a reaction (sing it, Isaac) and no reaction means the action was futile. Everything is still right now. Not one goddamn thing has changed and one or both of us needs to just fucking do something already. He's barely spoken to me about THAT since Cocoa Beach, so it looks like it's all me, baby. Maybe high altitudes can push him out of my head and train whistles can fix my heart.

Oh, ew. I just cringed at that. Sorry. Stupid girl moment.

I don't fucking know. There's like a million things running through the skull and 99% of them have nothing to do with him. He's just the easiest to talk about. Ha. Yeah, right. Everything seems to be caused by the same feeling of staying too still and one thing leads to another. You know how it goes.

Anyway, May and I saw X2 tonight. Oh, man. Wolverine? And I? ARE GONNA FUCKING MAKE OUT.

Also, we each consumed six Airheads. We're so gross.

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