You know, I haven't written in this thing in forever. I guess summer was just going pretty smoothly, you know, running into a pattern or whatever, and I didn't need to. I haven't written much of anything in a long, long time- with the exception of e-mails to Katelyn, my future roommate, or what is no doubt pages and pages of IMs, none of which I should imagine are particularly thrilling.
I'm pretty sure this site lay more or less forgotten. I think about writing in it occasionally, but I can never really muster anything quality. Since it matters, what with all my die-hard readers and all. Eh, maybe I'll throw it in my buddy profile as a link- and if my roommates come across it, they can be pre-warned about just how crazy I am.
I guess I came here because it's the first time in ages something happened to shake me up. I had absolutely no idea how to handle it. I hate that feeling. We all get it, sure, but I attempt (more or less successfully) to live with the illusion that I can control everything that happens to me- and when necessary, anyone else. Tonight has proved very difinitively that I cannot, in fact, do this.
The worst is when you can't really talk about this stuff. Particularly online, where god knows who is reading this- I mean, I read a nifity (yes, nifity- the 'i' is my own personal touch) article in TIME this week about the stalkerisms of 21st century bosses. I've been doing a lot of reading recently, thanks to my short (and hopefully finished) stint as my mother's secretary. There's not a lot to do around that office, since the few appointments I attempt to schedule seem to go awry and need to be fixed by the real secretary, who is currently holed up on some god-forsaken floor of the very hospital in which we work. I hate hospitals- well, when I'm the patient, anyway. I don't mind an emergency trip to one for someone else- which fortunately has only happened once.
See now here I am rambling about the past, something which, in a week's time, I hope to let go of as thuroughly as possible.
I had a spectacular summer, I really did. Spent it with about the best friends a girl could have. I mean, okay, they (we) were an odd bunch. And there were moments of tension- though I imagine they went unnotticed, as I did my best to pretend otherwise. It's just- I'm not so quick to trust someone the second time around. In fact, I probably won't trust again- nor am I about to expect much of a friendship- but at this point, we'll leave it to bygones. Because got in himmel knows I'm going to OSU in about a week, and I can't wait, and I have to let go, because this is one of those threshold moments of life- when you have the opportunity to use a clean slate, if you so chose to pick it up. Which is exactly what I plan upon doing.
It's not as if I've had a completely stress-free summer. I had a summer job, yes- but oh yeah, it unfortunately burned down (okay, not down down, but there was about 50,000 dollars in damage and it didn't have hopes of opening pre-college). There were some other tense moments, I think, but for the most part, it was smooth sailing- literally, if you consider the two trips to Catawba we took.
Of course, I did have some problems controlling my emotions- it seems they sometimes just don't want to listen to common freaking sense, but I'm almost through that. Almost. A week, right? A week. Then bygones. Then it's over. Because in a week, the summer's over.
I wish you could help those people who really need it. But you never seem to be able to. I don't like sitting here helplessly watching the self-destruction of a friend, any more than I like sitting here in silence, afraid of letting go.
I don't think I'm afraid of falling per se. It's what's waiting for me at the bottom. Which could very well be absolutely nothing. Which would be unpleasant, right? But I should forget about that, because it's not like the loch ness effing monster is going to gobble me up- just my angsty teenage soul, if anything.
Oh, shit, now I'm truly rambling. Well rest assured two things:
a) I'm 100% sober at this time, just tired.
b) I know what I mean in my head.
I'm sort of worried about a select group of fellow alumni. Aka two of them- maybe three. I haven't fully assessed the third one yet. But I'll tell you what- there's a few others who I couldn't give two shits about anymore. Harsh, maybe, but I want to move away from what held me back. Not trying to be a bitch here, just pointing out that it's hard to move forward if you can't let go of that anchor that is the past.
Most likely, this entry will be regretted in the morning. That's alright. It's always the things you don't say you regret. I know that. I know it well.
So why can't I say them?
I'm really not as angsty as I'm sounding. I just got sort of scared tonight, in two respects. Which I think is why I needed to write. Writing makes me feel better.
Oh and for the bloody record, I didn't understand our summer reading book. Was it too deep for me, or was the ending so lame I didn't know the difference? I guess I'll re-skim.
Okay. Okay me. Say it. I have to say it. Not here, no, but it must be said. I know what happens when it isn't. Likewise there are consquenses if you don't choose to let go- but there's always somewhere safe to fall to. And I can't hold on forever.
Though I gues if I did, my arms would be pretty ripped, eh?
I'm delusional. Disregard this as the musings of an idiot.