I like clean places. I don’t like cleaning, per se. Vacuuming up spiders and their respective webby abodes do make me shiver profusely. But the end result of a good cleaning is always enlightening. A fresh renewal.
I am strange. I know that I need to lose weight. I know that I need to work out in order to look as good as my friends and my role models. I hear from my friends every day about how much they exercise and eat right. Yet still, I just sit and continue eating. I am strange. This is strange. And it’s not even that I don’t have enough intrinsic motivation to look better because I know that the only time a guy would look at me (as opposed to right through me) is when my face and body are attractice. Right now they just aren’t.
So why can’t I get off my ass and start working on it? This is why I am strange.
This is a random, juvenile, stupid post.
It’s 3AM and I can’t sleep. Sure, the nonfat venti cinnamon dolce latte that I shoved down my throat at 9PM certainly didn’t help but I really just can’t sleep. I keep having these weird visions of lavish parties, where I’m wearing strappy leather heels and a really Carrie Bradshaw-esque sequined patterned dress. I’m the hostess and everyone that I’ve ever loved is here and all the boys I’ve ever been infatuated are all in love with me. They all (one by one) walk into the party and ask to speak with me in private so they can tell me how beautiful I look.
Realistic, I know.
Now, really realistic. I keep hearing that you want me to tell you the truth…that you want me to confess all the things I’ve been keeping from you over our four years of high school together (plus two from middle school, we met in seventh grade over a mutual Mexican friend). I really want to tell you that I love how nice you were to me and that I hate how awful you were to me. And by ‘were’ I mean ‘are,’ at least when you actually need to talk to me about something.
I have to close firefox so I can download something. And even though I’m leaving this really open-endedly, I think I actually know what I’m talking about. I am going to write a lot this summer, really.
I know that there’s only two days of high school left and I’m supposed to be all emotional and reminiscient of all the great memories I’ve had these past four years, but my throat is scratchy and I have a headache and being sick always reminds me of my pessimism. I have friends and family and great things going for me, I guess, but I am not able to ignore any potential of mistreatment.
And maybe, it’s just better for me not to get too attached. But honestly, I don’t think it’s fair for someone to avoid attachment just to escape pain. Why can’t I actually have a consistent group of friends and a stable support system without having that painful backlash that occurs when they forget about you?
The picture is the Indian city of Udaipur from the view of the ancient City Palace, and it’s pretty much the only place that I want to visit this summer.
