-sniffle-

"If I asked you how many best-best-best friends you had, would you tell me?"

"I have two."

"...That was quick. Only two? You sure?"

"Mhm. Just two." -sips drink-

"...Oh." -pause- "Am... Am I one of them?"

"No, sweetheart... you aren't."
----------------------------------
Urrrrrrgh. I'm getting a cold. This sucks.

DO. NOT WANT.

Like, what the hell, immune system? You never break this easily. :(

Aaaaaand, I really don't want to go to class tomorrow. But, I've got my Civ Bibliography due, and I should prolly get that in. yus.

-sniff-

I miss my lappytop. Poor guy has been sitting on my desk for the past three days, just waiting for me to supply him with a steady supply of power once more. Damn cord... But what can you do, really? It's been four years. About time something broke on that thing.

I love my brick of a laptop so much. ^_^

I'd really love to be able to write/print out some band parts right about now, not gonna lie. Never really realized how therapeutic composing actually is until now... Gah.

I totally could've busted out a band short tonight. Everything. Every part, hands down. Easily. But I couldn't because my cord is friend and it is terrible. -sneezeflail-

x_x

But, yeah. Once I get a new cord, I'm going to hole myself up in a coffeeshop with some tea (It's nearly winter. Coffee season is over.) and my laptop and I'm going to write ALL DAY. And it shall be wonderful. Maybe I'll actually get around to finishing the first movement of the Nessling's piece, so that there are actual colors to go with the story.

No. Bad lung. Stay inside the chest. No. Stay. Good lung.

And the inevitable angsting: I really wish I could help people more. I wish I could shake this feeling of complete uneasiness. I wish I could say for sure that everything will be alright. And I wish things were different.

-sneeze-

DAMN STUFFY NOSE. I BLAME YOU FOR THIS.

Fret, fret, fret, fret.

Fretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfret,
fretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfret,
fretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfret,
fretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfret,
fretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfretfret.

Talking at people is grand. I honestly don't know how they can deal with my shit. Honestly. But when they suffer through my blabbling and making no sense, I love them so much. Honestly.

And I'm totally still freaking about this, and eventually my roommate's gonna slap me and be all "CALM DOWN, BISNATCH!" And I'm gonna be like "...okay."

But, yeah. My friends are made of  epic kickassery. And if any of said friends who know what I'm talking about (though, if you're reading this, you KNOW what I'm talking about) see me in real life, hugs are always welcome. Because I'm gonna be freakin' about this for a loooooong time.

Oh, and by the way. I love you guys. <3

-resumes fretting-

Phuck. Phuckphuckphuckshitphuck.

TWO POSTS IN ONE DAY WHAT IS THIS SHIT!?!


Alrighty, so G'ma was sleeping, and I was surfing the webs. Got bored of that. Started going over my life with a fine-toothed comb. My likes, my dislikes. My fears. My goals. The things I wanted people to know about me. The things I hoped no one would find out about me. The things I would rather people not know about me.


When I got to that last category, I stopped cold. Thought about it some more. And realized.


Panicking commenced. 


Not sure what I'm worried about, other than public scorn. Talked to the roomie, and got her never-ending support. Talked to the once who lives too damn far away. I really shouldn't be freaking so much about this. But I'm insecure enough already, and I don't want to think of how people will see me differently if they ever find out.


OhfuckI'msodamnscared....

Like watching a bubble...

...It rises into the air, so beautiful, so perfect. Then the wind picks up, and tosses it about. And you know that the bubble will burst eventually. You just don't know when.

...This is going to hurt us. I just don't know when she's going to find out.

See, I have a friend. I net her a few years back at a musical festival. She lived in the neighboring town, and we both played flute at the festival. Sat next to each other, chatted about life and stuff. Seemed like pretty good friends.

The following school year, she moves to my town, and we become even closer friends. She really depended on me to support her, and through a confession one night I stayed over at her house, she told me that if it wasn't for my friendship, she'd probably have committed suicide. (She has a self-esteem problem. Majorly.)

That's a fucking sobering fact, boys and girls.

Anywho, I get a call from her earlier today, and we're chatting about life and such. I don't even know how we got on the subject, but the conversation turns to homosexuality. And she goes on this FLAMING RANT about how she really dislikes (i.e., HATES) homosexuals. Naturally, I don't tell her that a few of my best friends are gay. Tactfully, I change the subject.

Aaaaand, then she goes to ask me how my relationship is going.

...HRM.

I can't lie to her. I told her we broke up, and that it wasn't a big deal, and that we're still awesome friends. But she wanted details, and I refused to give them to her. Because I know she'll freak the fuck out.

I feel like I'm betraying her. I know she's going to find out about this eventually, but I'm terrified to see where it goes from there. If she does anything after that... I'd never forgive myself. Ever.

Now, I know there aren't many people who read this, but if you do, I beg for your advice. On my knees, pleading. There are unshed tears in my eyes. I. Don't. Know. What. To. Do. I don't care if you're just browsing through the blog list--I need your help. I don't care if you don't know me, I don't care if I don't know you. I don't care if we're friends or otherwise. I'm stuck, and I've nowhere to go.

I'm sleeping on it, though. Praying a bit. Or a lot. Wait it out. What more can I do?

...It's like watching a bubble--one that will trigger the atom bomb.