Once you get over losing a best friend, once the anger subsides and it stops becoming a topic of conversation…the anger and time spent dealing with it weren’t the only things to fly out the window. The years of good memories hang on for dear life but go rushing out with the sighs of relief given after it’s “finally over”.
Time goes buy and they exit left. That’s it. And suddenly it’s time to move on. And so I am.
So I’m sitting in my new room which is one-quarter unpacked and about three-quarters “do i really need that out right now?” packed. There’s a mix of boxes and bins and bags and some new storage shit I just bought but I don’t have the ambition to organize right now. All I’ve been up to is moving shit around, reading, jamming out, eating cereal, and trying to remember to Google where the nearest liquor store to my new home might be.
Losing territory, man. It’s wild. Don’t give that shit up. I mean it. Peanut butter every night and wine chilling in a bathtub of cold water just isn’t your speed. It almost wasn’t mine.
Pride is it! Pride and tunes and beer—they make ya or break ya.
CONFESSION: To the few of you who actually read this, post a “confession” that no one (or not many people know about you). The only rule is that is has to be LIGHT. Let’s be light.
Mine: Not very many people know how much I love California. The only problem is what if I started to hate it? I would DIE. One of my biggest dreams is to have a beach house between Venice and Santa Monica.
A dream is a dream because it’s light.
haha. cool, girl.
hope you’re awesome.
xxxo
