I guess we're all one phone call from our knees

I guess we're all one phone call from our knees

I'm in the library and I'm supposed to be working on my paper but I think it's done, or at least done to a point that I'm mostly comfortable with, so i'm typing this so I won't be on tumblr because I'm always afraid that people are judging me when they see me on tumblr in the library.  Last night I went to a Mat Kearney concert and it was glorious and he's immensely talented and just seems like a genuinely nice person and I wish there were more of those around, you know?  I've had this stress-induced stomach ache/nausea thing going on for the last week or so, and it's making eating weird and sleeping weird and sometimes I get so trapped in my own head that I'm not sure I'll ever get out.  That's one of the reasons that I like doing this, I guess.  One of the reasons that I like making art, even if it's shitty, and writing things and calling my mom on the phone even though she doesn't say too helpful things too often.

Tomorrow is Sunday and there's a bio exam on Tuesday that I'm going to fail, yay, and then after that things should go back to their lower level of stress-inducing for at least a few weeks.  I've got this weird obsession with defining myself, which I think maybe everyone has but they just don't realize it, and lately I've been thinking about it a lot, with introvertedness and being a Reedie and dying my hair and boys and everything.  Reed can be so stifling sometimes, but it's also really stimulating.  And it's really self-aware, even self-conscious.  That's so bizarre, I think.

My mom says something to me on the phone sometimes when I'm upset, which is, "I'm sorry that it's making you so upset," and it's really ridiculously unhelpful, because it just doesn't help, and because I'm sorry that I'm so easily upset too.  

In these bodies we will live in these bodies we will die

In these bodies we will live in these bodies we will die

I feel really lonely right now and I have papers to write and I don't know how to write them and why won't this damn cold go away?  I did something that I think is probably going to be really good for someone that I really love but I think it's going to end up hurting me, because I'm like the forever bridesmaid or some shit like that, and I want to cry but these walls are paper thin so my options are the bathroom or the stair well or the parking lot and why is life like that?  Like this?  I don't like when things change but I don't like when things get boring and my feet are cold but my socks are too far away.  I know that Emma is better at being a human being than me and that frustrates me and makes me angry at her and I got tears on my glasses.

Don't think twice, it's alright

Don't think twice, it's alright

I hope that I never get caught in a fire drill without any pants on.  I hope that the spoiler I read tonight about the new season of "Skins" isn't true.  I hope that I can be strong enough to stop doing things that I know will hurt Emma.  I hope that I can maintain my friendships and not destroy them like I usually do.  I hope that I have time to write soon, and time to work on my art journal and to watch "Downton Abbey" and I hope I sleep through the night soon.

On Sunday I saw John Green and Hank Green and it's the third time I've seen each of them "live" and every time I've overcome with this emotion that I can't explain.  It's nostalgia and happiness and this sense that without these people and this community and everything I've discovered through the internet, I'm not sure who I'd be now.  Sometimes I think that it's a little dramatic to say that they saved me or that they changed by life, but sometimes I'm not sure how else to put it.  It's really hard day to day to be comfortable with who I am, but alone in my own room at night, looking at who I am and what I've got, I'm fine.  Things are fine.