And stay up late, and watch cartoons." - The Moldy Peaches
Today was one of those days where I woke up at 12. I spent the whole "morning" in my pajamas, ate pizza for breakfast,ice cream for lunch and kept myself hydrated with cold green tea. I youtubed Yo Gabba Gabba, and decided that in order for me to have children that don't hella annoy me, they're going to grow up dancing to Radiohead and The Arctic Monkeys. They're going to cry when they see Pooface the Dragon Saves Rainbowland (I made that up, but I wouldn't be surprised if something like that actually exists) on TV and beg to switch the channel to some real kids shows, like The Weekenders or Phineas and Ferb. My children will be outrageously cool. But then again, if they turn out to be their mother's definition of cool, I'd worry a bit. I sidetracked, so continuing on. I spent an hour on MLIA, another on Pokemon, harvested some crops on Farmville and watched an episode of Jeeves and Wooster with Genie. After saving my couch from a pukefest from my dog (SERIOUSLY dodged a bullet there), I decided to do something productive. Well, something productive in the eyes of other people. To me, leveling up my Prinplup is time well-spent. Thus, I made attempt number four at cleaning my room. In the first 10 minutes, I found, underneath a pile of magazines, old jazzband music and socials notes, my journal. The journal, actually. I say this because it's the only journal I've managed to keep. I have this habit of cringing when I reread my old writing. I just have to huck it out. By old, I mean over a few months. I thought to myself, "If this is the only journal I'm reluctant to throw out, why is it hidden away in the most undetectable place possible?" I flipped through it and remembered the reasons why. It contains many pages of a young girl's hopeful love-talk who wrote and wrote until words became useless. I thought writing would help me get him out of my system or somehow, change things. Rebekah, words do not change situations unless they are said to the right people. There's about 5 different entries that say something along the lines of, "I'm putting this away till I'm brave enough. I'm not letting go, just burying this deep." The truth is, I'm really bad at keeping it buried, but I'm even worse at throwing it out.
Damn my optimism.