I feel like my life is my room.
Things written on post-its... words that mean absolutly nothings.
I hurt. Physically and emotionally. There's no words for me to describe this.
You would think after years of packing and unpacking, I'd get a hang of this.
Every year the same thing, ya know, after this year I'll be up to 16 roommates. Fucking 16.
I'm not even counting my next possible roommate Erin.
As for the hurt, I think it has to do with many things at this moment.
I can't say that I miss Josh at this moment. I really would like him to get online so that all I can see is his screen name. I don't need to talk to him, I just want that strange comfort.
I'm anxious is the closest thing I can feel. Anxious and this deep pressure. Pressure of what, can't say...
Pressure of life, of getting this fucking room cleaned... who the hell knows.
My emotions have been running so rampant that I can't keep a straight mark anymore.
Well, they aren't that erratic... but they aren't something I can always predict.
It's 4am in Scotland, I hope Josh is getting some sleep. One of us should be sleeping soundly at least... he needs it more than I.
On a tagent, my mom is getting a kitten. I'm being horrible at updating, Bowser died December 29th.
She's going to the human society Friday to pick out a kitten. I'm going home next week so that I can see it. My mom said she'd let Drew name the cat, I'm going to try hard to be in the decision making.
Man, I have still a crap load of stuff I need to take up stairs...
Back to packing.
chez