07.11.01
Eight days a week
Last night I wrote and wrote about my feelings, exactly what they are, what I wanted, what I wished would happen. And today I've lost it all. I remember little of what I felt. That's why it's good to write, lets you revisit, re-explore.
There's someone on my mind, but I'm not going to write about them. It's not that I don't know where we stand, because I do. And it's not that I'm not happy with that, because I am. I just don't know if that's all I want, or if I want a little something more. When your heart and your head tell you two different things, it's hard to know which one you're supposed to follow.
It's supposed to rain on Saturday, I hope it doesn't. And I'm torn between a bikini and a full piece. I feel like Bridget Jones with her underwear. Ha. I wish this place wasn't so dead and that I had something to do, and someone to do it with. I'm going out of my mind. k.
wunderwuman at