espanish

Mi casa es cálida. Estoy a gusto aquí. Mi vieja cama es la misma. Nada ha cambiado aquí. Cuando me acuesta en este cuarto, soy la persona que yo estaba en el verano. Extraño esa chica. Yo no sé por qué. Ella no estaba contenta. Muchas veces, ella lloraba porque la vida era demasiada.

Yo no sé por qúe yo la extrañe tanto, pero es dificil pensar en quien yo era. Solamente hace tres meses, viví en esta casa y no pude imaginar la abilidad por salir para universidad. Pero todo cambia. Especialmente esto. Especialmente yo.

La verdad es que a veces todavía es difícil para mí. Todavía no he encontrado a la persona que quiero ser.

My view outside the window of my dorm is beautiful, especially at night, and it's a strange feeling to know that I am no longer at home but living in a place with another person who, despite her lack of cleanliness, is very much compatible with me. I never thought I'd end up here, truly. I was in love with Indiana University. For years, I was prepared to be a Hoosier. Every time I go to Bloomington, I remember why I loved it in the first place. My high-school self would never have believed me, had she known how I'd end up here and how I'd end up happy.

Today is a good day, and I realized that I don't need to do anything for it to be a good day. My boyfriend is out of town, but it's pleasing to know I can still have these nice days without him. I rely on him too much as it is. I woke up to Dillon watching Arrested Development because he slept on my bean bag last night. We stayed up until four in the morning playing different versions of Pokemon. He helped me defeat the gym leader in Goldenrod, that bitch, and he let me choose a Mudkip as his starter Pokemon based solely on the fact that it's adorable.

It's strange, waking up here, because I spend so much time sleeping at my boyfriend's. But it's nice, it's very nice. I need to do it more. I like opening my curtains, letting in the sunlight, and sitting at my desk at the window on this laptop. I have my midterm on Thursday, and I love trying to do it but really just listening to Hannah's intense watching of Gossip Girl.

My grades are good. My friendships are good. My relationship is good. I'm really starting to feel like I belong here.

I don't want to be poetic,
but I need a way to organize my thoughts that makes sense.

On the other hand, it's not like I'm poetic anyway.
Rhymes are for squares.

1. Forgetting about the worries that plague me works just about as well as when I try to use a pair of fucking chopsticks.

3. I haven't been sleeping much lately and I know it's not by choice, at night, anyway. During the day, it's hard for me to focus on anything except how low my energy level has dropped. Living feels like a pointless waste of energy sometimes. I'm waiting for the candid camera to come out and be like, "We're just fucking with you here. You're actually not this shitty of a person. You are able to overcome yourself."

4. I feel trapped in this dorm on this campus in this town. I cannot live here when I am older. I cannot. I cannot. I cannot. Driving back home from Bloomington was like feeling open air on you arm after your cast is taken off. It was liberating, and this place is suffocating. It surprised me, the way this hit me on my way home Saturday night, because I've never felt anything like it before - I am outgrowing Terre Haute, Indiana. Instead of wanting to be back home, I was worried that going to college here was going to trap me here. I am bigger than this place and I hope that nothing is going to stop me from getting out when I find a better fit.

5. I am sorry that I have grown to rely on you as much as I do. I don't know if it's healthy, but I need you to keep going. I need you for the rest of my life. It absolutely terrifies me.

6. I am so tired of finding flaws in things. I am so tired of worrying about things that are not happening. I am so tired of being consumed by things that make me less of the person I want to be. It's exhausting. It's heartbreaking.

Maybe I should tuck myself in and get some sleep.

I can't find peace anywhere, not even in you. 

I am constantly on edge. I don't know how to make myself okay anymore.

It's like I see things, happy things, brilliant things, and all I see is the pain that people will feel when it's over. The things that make life worth living are woven with death. 

I'm trying to hold onto my virtues but it's like grasping at smoke. 

I'm supposed to know you like the back of my hand but you politely decline.