If I've ever gotten strangely ironic comments about my blog,
it's how people look to it for inspiration and feel better.
How in the world did I create such a mess of things?
I've recently been worried out of my mind,
reading horoscopes like they are useful,
and trying to regain activity.
But I just feel so exhausted
and there is really no one around who can fix that but myself.
So why can't I?
I spent a day being happy
a day being sad
a day worrying
a day hoping.
And all of those days I spent without you.
I even made a list of things I love:
When people cover their mouths when they laugh.
When my Pandora plays French music randomly.
When people I don’t know very well pronounce my name right.
The smell and humidity after it rains.
When people excuse me for being ridiculous.
Having a clean fish bowl.
People who remember inside jokes we had years ago.
Crawling into bed after I’ve just showered and washed my face.
Falling asleep tangled in someone (
Abbey Rosie and Jeff.)
When someone tickles my arms or neck.
City lights when it’s dark out.
Remembering what I’ve been trying to remind myself.
Driving for long periods of time with someone.
People who are genuinely nice even though they have no reason to be.
Looking at old letters and feeling the happy sort of nostalgia.
Random calls of people checking in with me.
When people (Abbey) visit me while I’m sick.
Realizing how wonderful things will be.
Lists never accomplish anything but organize scattered thoughts.
In the end, I'm still going to do what I normally do,
and you're still going to do what you normally do.
And the weirdest part of it is human nature.
It's all human nature.
I'm not sure.