Life is Busting out ALL Over!

I write a lot when I’m lonely

Posted on: April 11, 2007

Okay, in the last two hours as I have tried not to watch the shows I watch with BF on Wednesday (aka Date Night) I’ve been watching crap TV and realizing that I’m lonely.

This scares the crap out of me. Me, the woman who at 22 years old left all my friends and family to travel the country for a job that forced me to be with strangers, sleeping in less than perfect conditions all across the country. Working up to 40 days in a row with no day off, and maybe then going home for 4 days at a time. I was lonely at certain points but nothing like I feel now.

Maybe the weather has something to do with – it’s cold (granted it’s not snow, Chicago) but it’s raining and cold and I have no heat in this room.

But I miss him. I don’t want to miss him. I want to be strong and independent why can’t those things be mutually exclusive? And why shouldn’t I miss him – it’s been almost 3 years of dating.

My mind goes to freak out mode – I’m sort of over the “does he miss me?” thing. I know he does, and he’ll tell me when I get home. I kinda want to hear it. Like. Now.

So I’m angry – angry that I’m lonely. Angry that in a walk last night where I wanted to just get hot chocolate – Starbucks was closed and I ended up with a dozen M&M fresh-from-the-bakery cookies.

Worst of all, I’m angry at him. Angry for being the man, I never thought existed, never thought would perfectly suit me, angry that I’m in this deep and that it’s new and scary, angry that he has to get up at 4:30 AM and is probably sleeping and always leaves his phone on vibrate and isn’t answering my calls because he can’t hear them.

I’m also angry that I can’t watch LOST b/c we are going to watch it together – but I’m sick of listening to this stupid Duke lacrosse thing. Angry that he played lacrosse, coaches a lax team at a certain university in Evanston, and everytime I hear lacrosse, he is my only reference. I’m also angry at that woman in the lobby who was wearing a Va Tech jacket, where he played lacrosse.

I’m officially “that girl” – although my friends probably would tell you I’ve been here for awhile.

It’s not fair, and it will go away and it’s not his fault. It’s OK to feel this way.

But most of all, it feels good to vent and get it out.

I’ll be more positive tomorrow – or worse – I promise.

Dudes – let’s be real – it’s not that you are lacrosse players, it’s that you attend a school whose campus culture is stratified to award those that are white, rich and male.
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Synopsis

musings and panic attacks of a Chicago girl embarking on a new life in Texas. Only it's not always June and it's not in song.

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