I am not going to panic and freak out and tell myself that I will never get caught up in anything. That will not make a bit of difference. I will simply do my best and I will get shit done.
And I will breathe. Keep swimming. Carry on. There’s no crying in Liberal Studies. At least not until finals week.
I really miss the way he’d just know from the way I leaned into him during a hug that he should hold onto me and rub my back for a little while. I miss that a lot.
Hello, hormones, why don’t you make me even more weepy. I’m a mess right now.
Control. I need to stay in control.
Hey, let’s do some irrational crying, because that’s productive.
I really just… I know it’s been a rough week, so I need to just….
It’s amazing to me that, when all I want is something I’m actively trying to let go of, I can still have so many tears over it.