I tried to do a three-day detox cleanse. Day one hurt every cell in my body. Day two I woke up dehydrated, empty, and head throbbing. After my mom found me frantically eating a banana at 7am instead of putting it in the smoothie because all I wanted was solid food, I just quit. I’m weak.
I don’t recommend doing a smoothie detox.
I’ve been a little down lately. My life is in limbo and there’s nothing I can do but hope things work out as close to “fine” as they can.
It’s probably unpatriotic and unsupportive that I’m just so angry about my boyfriend joining the Air Force, but fuck it. I’m pissed as hell. I never asked for this. I never wanted it. Now I’m being forced into a life I’ve always been so adamantly against with the expectation that I’ll sit passively through it and just be lonely for god knows how long.
I guess it’s cool, my feelings don’t matter anyways. They never have. Not to anyone.
More to see on my Flickr.
The world is so huge and vast and there are so many people out there who simply don’t care about me. They don’t think of me before they go to sleep. They don’t smile when a distant and long forgotten memory reappears in their minds. They don’t know my name or my face or that I like to drink hot cider or tea before bed. They don’t care that I have been stressed out about my schoolwork or that I hate my job.
There are so many people that don’t care about me, and I want them to know that I love them all. Every last person on this planet. The human race is so beautiful. So beautiful and imperfect and so strange. I love people and the way their minds work and the words they put on paper and the songs they sing and the way they show so much in their faces and the way they walk. If any stranger to me stumbles upon this post and reads it, I want them to know that I think they are wonderful and beautiful and I love everything about them.
I am fascinated by the human race. Especially this time of year when I see everyone running around trying to find the absolute perfect gift for their loved ones. This time of year, everything is so fast paced and frantic. I just like to sit and watch it all flash by me. Human beings are amazing and I’m so glad I’m one of them.
I love all of you. Stay wonderful.
I kind of just wish that I could find the time read a book and fall in love with a character so deeply and madly that it breaks my heart when the novel ends and their story stops. Then I want to pick myself up and read another. I want to experience falling in love with a new person over and over until my heart is content and I’m used to stories ending and having to move on. Maybe I could apply this to reality. Maybe if I could pause the hustle and bustle of my life and find time to flip through the pages of a book, I wouldn’t experience the little heart breaks the day brings and carry them with me to the next day and the next.
Am I making sense? I just want to get used to moving on just in case I have to.
Is it too much to ask to want to be loved like characters in books? To be as important to someone as air or water? Like Elizabeth Bennett to Darcy? Like the unnamed young woman in Rebecca to Maxim?
Is it wrong to hope for something that comes along so infrequently?
Is a romance from one of the classic novels I grew up reading too much to even dream of?