If I sent one in now, it would say

I am scared to love you because I have a feeling that all of the memories we make so easily now, won’t fade as quickly once we are apart.

If I sent one back then, it would have said:

You were a waste of four and a half years. Just wait and see- someone will appreciate me and I won’t have to compromise once.

grace (the one little nugget edition)

One nugget. Because in the past 4 days I couldn’t think of anything to NOT cry about.

Thankful that I was attacked by cold sores approximately 11 days before my planned Vegas trip with Refuses.

Why so shiny about this silver lining? Because the expected recovery time for these ooze filled monsters is 7-10 days and I can’t imagine not kissing Refuses in Vegas.

Best be healed by next Friday. Or heads will roll.

3 days and 5 seconds away

from a nervous breakdown. Didn’t we just do this?

I have cried no less than 11 times today- in my apt, at the grocery store, while pumping gas, at my mom’s, at my dad’s. To say I am emotional is, well, it doesn’t even need to be said because it is that obvious.

I had to take 3 days off of work, then make a doctor’s appt.

Once there, I got blood drawn (scared of needles, anyone?) And the doctor told me I have a cold. And a fever. And fever blisters to go with the cold.

Cold sores? I don’t get cold sores. Or I didn’t, anyway. And now I am out of kissing commission for much longer than expected. But wait? Cold Sores? What are they? How do I get rid of them? Why is mister doctor man looking at me like this is normal? Like there aren’t huge swelling bulbs exploding on my lower lip. Someone fix it, please!

I would like to crawl in my bathtub and wake up a few weeks from now. Healed. Back to the old, exercising me.

But wait, first, I have to drive home from mister doctor man, ONLY TO REAR END SOMEONE 3 MIUNTES AWAY FROM MY HOUSE.

Great. Thanks God or Karma or whoever. A car accident? You couldn’t spare me the car accident?

Course not. Let me gather my things and go sob in a chair at CVS while I pick up my 87 new perscriptions.

Love you too, Life!

written responses

Post Secret hit a chord with me tonight. I wondered a few things. Lucky for you, I just had to share.

Tuesday night I thought about this during my run. Except backwards. I was wondering if girls whose thighs don’t touch feel sorry for me that mine do. I wondered if they think it’s gross. That I will never be worth a man’s love, that if I only I could fix that, maybe then, will everything work out best.

Just wanted to let you know, that while it would be fabulous if my thighs didn’t touch- I am okay. I can find love and can love myself. Thanks anyway, for your concern.

And then there is this. There are people in my life, close to me, that I wish would read this, and see this, and feel for the things that other people go through. That there more than just your thoughts and insecurities, and together with all our flaws, we will all end up okay.
You false critical view makes the rest of us wonder, just what the eff is your problem?

Take the time to make it right, to make your life matter.

grace in small things: eighteen

a resourceful craigslist, for providing reasons to write cover letters

a good computer, with which to write cover letters.

a stacked feed reader, with which to procrastinate writing cover letters.

an inspirational blogger, which provides constant encouragement for writing said cover letters.

a cute coffee shop, the prefect place to pretend to be writing cover letters

this post, because I am clearly not writing my cover letters.

solo mission

I can’t possibly be the only person who does this! I swear. I don’t mean to but Refuses will probably be moving away in about 4 months. Part of me screams “What is the effing point then?” the rest of me thinks, quietly in the back of my mind, “What will I say when we break up?”

My five mile run today resulted in the following:

We are both awesome people. We will be fine.

We are better people for knowing each other.

your highness, bitches.

I hate your boyfriend. And yours.

If your friends hate him, and your mother thinks you could do better, he has got to go.

Be a woman and dump the loser.

***disclaimer: understandably easier said than done.

grace in small things: seventeen

5. light whipped cream cheese

4. Rubin the inflatable flamingo, who now calls the top of our television home.

3.  Boys who don’t care that you barfed on them.

2. Clean sheets

1. Getting over this cold. again

awkward aftertaste

I puked last night.

On Refuses.

No worries, I’ll just hand in my girl card now.