Every town has a diner where I meet you
I never knew how bad Novembers were, but blessed with the gift of analysis, I’ve come to understand the truth. This month is designed to make me forget how good fall really is. There have been a whole sea of "difficult" issues, from a pretty severe freak illness personally to a round of health problems in my whole family, from a romantically situated emo-tional rollercoster to the sudden feeling that I am all alone with no direction. Perhaps there is a balance in the world that must be created, maybe November (not April) is the cruelest month. All I know now is this month of horrors has the chance now to end on a very good note or a very bad one. I’ll cross my fingers, smile, and behave as the wind behaves for the next nearly-two-weeks; it’s all that can be done.
Also, there is a conspiracy around the number 27. This becomes clearer to me every day.
I realized today that I’m getting really sick of talking about feelings all of the time. I’ll have to default to my other option when useless whining runs out; daily happenings.
I have a strong urge to see a concert recently… I’ll have to see what the city of Norman can offer me over Thanksgiving break other than anxiety, mashed potatoes, and occasional jabs of loneliness.
You always find the perfect way to make it clear that you just don’t care what I have to say.
Passive aggressivism has taken a whole new role in my life, and although mostly I think it’s pretty cute sometimes it gets wearsome when I’m not allowed to answer what is desired to be heard. Maybe if it scares you to want something, you should find a way to stop being scared instead of finding a way to not want it.
We say the wrong things