Eminem Is Stuck In My Head.

Have you ever experienced that sad love? It's unmistakably love, but it makes your heart hurt.
I'm using my brothers computer, and behind it there's a small bag of Chewy Chips Ahoy cookies, and I pictured him eating them and it makes me sad that I barely know him.

This day was absolute crap, and then it got better, and then it was absolutely awesome... And now, I'm experiencing the inevitable sadness of the end before the beginning. I had no idea I'd be this emotional and cranky when it came to going to college, and normally I'm able to live up to my self-proclaimed flexibility. But I'm really latched onto this whole thing, hm? I never would've expected that leaving high school behind forever would be easier than starting something new and exciting. Because it is new and exciting, I just... fuck, I don't know. My expletive can probably communicate my point better than a full sentence.

I am sad. I was sad when I left high school, but now that is simply a fact of life. I've graduated, and there's no regret or anguish attached. But this sad makes me want to turn around and run back down the up escalator... And though it works in real life (if you happen to be agile enough), in this metaphor, it doesn't. In this metaphor, it's impossible to get back down to wherever you came from, and the easiest, wisest, and scariest option is to shut your mouth, take a huge breath, and wait for the Moving Stairs of Unstoppable Change to take you to your destination. At this point in the metaphor, I'm a small brunette girl with a helium balloon, weeping and cautiously hopping down the stairs, the futility of my actions not registering in my undeveloped brain.

I was about to type that I'm going to miss this. I don't know what I mean by "this", but it's what I don't want to let go of. I didn't type it because I don't think I will. I don't miss high school. I cherish the memories and experience I've gained, but I don't yearn to return there. My time there has ended. The friends I've made have stayed with me, and it is these people, and these dynamics, and these unparalleled times that I'm weeping for.

I don't mean to be melodramatic, I really don't, but I seem to have made some unintentional decision to quit pussyfooting around the truth.
Well, most of the time. Honesty's more fun, if only because of shock value.
I think I'm tired, but I might be too scared to sleep. That thought will register as my head hits the pillow, but it won't matter when I get to that place between conscious and not-so. That's where the craziest shit happens, and it's hilarious.

I know it'll be fine, but sometimes blogging about stuff feels as good as a thorough cry. And, this way, I needn't deal with the running snot and puffy red eyelids. Maybe.

I re-pierced my helix today. Because I was bored.
...I think I'm reckless.

Fuck, the roofers will be here in 7 hours and 50 minutes... I should get to bed.