My bone

My intention is not to make you jealous (hey--i might be in your neck of the woods next year) but it's probably in the 40s or 50s? And it's not raining yet though it's supposed to.

Have I ever told you that I love your words? I love your words. You say everything I want to say, everything that's trapped in my mind and i'm afraid to admit, everything I can't articulate in words or sounds... i'm so far gone into journalism that I can't write about my day without a lede and a nut. Feelings? They have no place in a news article. And I can't talk to anyone without my list of questions.

The "you" I am talking to is LeeAnn.

Four years into college I can finally admit I do not like weekends. Weekends in college are like bricks thrown into my face every week, bricks that tell me I do not have any friends, nor can I do anything productive with limitless free time. I've almost given up on them, content to stay at home on a Friday and watch a movie by myself, content to not even make an effort to go out. It's always the same boys and beer and shots anyway, walking with heels and taking makeup off, making meaningless conversation. I used to go out with the hope that i'd meet a boy. But now that i'm on the older end of the college crowd, most do not exude the level of maturity i'm looking for. I then went out for the alcohol. The amazing freedom of conversation and action it provided, the endless random excitement. But now I never really get drunk enough to stop thinking about what I really think of the guy i'm talking to. I also went out because I knew people. And now I know people, but if I see them we stay in. So it's the weekend. And I have a paper to write and four books of Victorian blank verse to read and a future to plan and a full Netflix queue and a whole week of work ahead of me. And a few actual plans. Can't I just enjoy that?

I could just enjoy that. I might just enjoy that.

My random evening that consisted of everything I already mentioned also consisted of me and two friends ending up in the apartment of two girls I barely knew in high school. Different social circles, that sort of thing, but four years later we can have a beer together and admit we know each other's names and had classes together four years ago. It's funny the extent to which all that just doesn't matter anymore.