Wake Up Exhausted

I have tried to write an entry three times today. This is the one.

The punch wound on my face is sore and is a clever juxtaposition of this whole situation. But, I haven't talked to "the boy" in three days and it has been good for my health.

Last night Cass dragged me out to a house party where the "other boy" happened to be as well. I didn't think it would be as awkward... as well.... it was. I planned to be friendly and nice, instead I avoided looking and speaking to him. He watched me the entire night. What does that mean?

I ended up drinking an entire bottle of wine and came close to passing out in the cab that Cass forced me to take home. But it was a good night and took my mind off of most things.

And it's terrible how I can go from listening to the newest most pretentious music to the latest catchy hit. Maneater? There goes my street cred. But I don't even care.

I'm ready for a fresh start. A new hit, life, boy, experience. A new outlook.

Brighter....?

I really love this time of day. Around four o'clock in the afternoon when the sun is making the light in my apartment diffused and soft and I can pretend like it's warm outside. But thoughts of boiling weather scare me these days as I lost so much when I was able to go outside without a coat. The summer is a scary thing. Too many people 'find themselves' and I tend to get lost in the shuffle. Or they find someone else and fool around for an extended period of time and don't bother to tell you until you find out through a bitter friend six months later. SUCH IS LIFE.

But hey, I'm not feeling so cynical right now?

Maybe a little alone. But I think my optimism right now stems from a decent amount of caffeine, sleep, and a new outlook. I've decided to be healthier... Anti-oxidents (POM tea), green tea, mangoes, nectarines, flax seed bread. I think it's the weather.

Matt came to visit on Wednesday and Thursday. A little piece of home and knowing someone would go beat the hell out of the boy if I so much as asked him. I think I needed to recognize that some things that go away might always be there.

Things have reached an all time height of ridiculous. It's sad to admit that ANY kind of drama I have ever faced in high school.... well, life in general.... put together will never reach this point. Is it sad that there is some sort of pride in sporting a fat lip? Even though it hurts enough to make me scrunch my face and hate the war wound that is giving me one more reason to throw my hands in the air and stomp off.

This might be continued later.... For now I'm on a mission to find 6 gauge earrings that won't tear my lobes apart.