There's a filthy line of black under my nails even though I've already cut them yesterday.
I'm up at 3 30 which is magical.
The most amazing movie/series was on Otv, I couldn't resist.
I cut my hair shorter than M's, who had a skin-head three weeks ago.
It's easier to eliminate choices by letting them suicide.

Changes.
No changes, big changes.

It's funny how when you think you're going to be stuck away from home, someone says something like "so, I guess you're not going to ever come back, are you?"
especially if that someone was once a friend.

Now as for the softer being that is me.
It's easy to reject, but it should be easier. I know it should be easier.
And it shouldn't be easy to move on.

The underlying *at least* is that now I have a reason to be bizarre that people could connect to.

Before I could say, I'm weird because I had no friends in middle-school.
Now I can say, I'm weird because my boyfriend of a year and a half is going to be stuck in the military for the next two years, and he will be accompanied with a piece of my sanity that shall only return when he does.

And it all sounds like a 20s film and old tragedy, as you know, is contemporary comedy.

Rome is a place to be only in the imagination.
Florence is a place to be when you have time to listen to concerto and not think about your life.
Venice is a place to be when you have money and read a lot.
Paris is a place to be when you want to prove that friendship is more than able to fight loneliness and win the fight.

Even my friends miss your stupid jokes and your constant *the funny thing is* even when it's not funny.
And if you end up in the military, I will buzz my head off and/or cut is as short as they will cut yours. It's something to talk about.