I'm going to write. I wouldn't mind if you'd tell me what I'm doing wrong.
I remember she would always say, “Your mom loves me,” with so much pride and her trademark glee. With how many times she said it she might have actually believed it too. She would say it just to bother her, and, sadly, I knew it. I should have done something, but she knew I would not because that was not socially acceptable. It would have been so easy. I could have said, “My mom doesn’t love you. She doesn’t love anyone; she just doesn’t hate anyone either.” That was the truth. I learned that one by growing up. And growing up with these girls.
Hardships are what makes the moments of happiness we are granted in life meaningful. Any philosophy that rejects this, I find is missing something truly vital. It does not end there, however, but extends beyond that bliss. Do not live just for these. That’s not a life worth beyond a dog’s.
Today I was operating on little sleep and food, so before my Math recitation I picked up a snack and coffee in Blocker. After I ate, I went to class. I sat behind Alec and actually talked to him for the first time that day. I have come accustomed to his judgmental faces with every minute things I do. The kind of faces I tell people not to worry about from me because I just need a lot of external expression to take in the world internally as it is all happening. At first, I wanted to dismiss Alec’s expressions like this, but more often than not he feels bold enough in his opinion to tell me what he feels I am doing wrong. When I took my coffee out of my bag as I was talking to him, I got the look. I was in the middle of talking about the needed reforms to the American university system, so I noticed it without thinking much of it. Two minutes ago, however, I sat up in bed remembering that buying Starbucks is a sin to him. I get it, somewhat. I do not get it, in the sense, it is all about politics to him. You just show me that there is a place for crippling Catholic guilt that the media and anyone can stereotype us as, Alec, and I am sorry for when I have given that impression off to my friends. I know I have a critical nature. I guess I needed to be shown what that looks like, Lord.
My bed is a mattress on wheels.
This blog’s url is vague and personal. My secondary blog’s url is awesome and I am super proud because it still represents me too.