Who knew this day would come so fast?
Today I am leaving for California.
I will be gone for Katie’s birthday.
I will be gone for Paige’s college leave,
meaning today was my last goodbye to her.
Over the past few months I’ve developed a very very close relationship to her. Closer to most people that I ever get. She is one of my best friends; I can confide in her and trust that she won’t mention anything to anyone. I can take her on adventures, I can rant with her, I can show up to her house without warning, and I have done so nearly every day that I have been home this summer. Even as I watched the car pull away from my driveway this morning, I could feel a tug. A gap has already begun to form.
My eyes are welling up now as I attempt to type this.
Her absence will be similar to the feeling of a missing limb.
I suppose now I can look forward to the road trip and visit that I will be forcing upon Carol at the end of the month (Although it probably wouldn’t really be considered forcing being that she is willing and wants to go) and keep in touch as much as possible.
So now, my mission is to make the trip to California worth it.
It sure as hell better be.
Being an attention whore is tough work indeed.
The end of May always feels like summer.
The beginning of June feels even more like summer.
I have found this last month to be painstaking. Freedom is right beyond my fingertips, and it becomes increasingly awful to go through the same routine each day.
Finals have me in a frenzy,
My sleeping pattern is fucked up,
& petty relationship drama is puttin’ me down.
So, what am I doing to make up for it all?
I am making a note of being unconditionally ridiculous in whatever spare time I encounter.
I am taking advantage of the weather by slathering myself in ungodly amounts of sunblock,
wandering out in my backyard with a giant towel decorated (very subtly) with a giant orange tiger, lying down and then after what feels like hours, retreating back into the abode after five minutes.
I gather my friends together and galavant about with them to nowhere in particular at odd hours of the night, singing songs and unintentionally terrifying the neighborhood by creating monstrous shadows and crashing bikes into bushes.
I pick up objects whenever the urge arises, and drop things wherever I feel the need to.
I yell and scream and sing and dance, while simultaneously telling a story and fixing my hair.
All the while, I still know, subconciously, that my behavior is anxiety driven. It is driven by the fact that I want to be rid of the anxiety, and am trying my own home-concocted methods of kicking it. In the moment it seems to do the trick, but then, after my adrenaline rush diminishes, there is nothing left but a spaced out shell of Ali.
This post-rush version of myself generally confuses most people. I mean, not me specifically, just the fact that I went from WAY up, to WAY down. I will try meditating before social situations to avoid becoming a snail. In some ways, I don’t want to change. But, for the people I loves’ sake, I’ll at least try.
ALSO: Today I had my bio final, and a physical.
BIO FINAL: I am guessing 75%.
PHYSICAL: Fuck “pap smears”. They could at least call it something less gruesome.
ALSO ALSO:
I am getting my hair cut short. For sure. Do not let me talk myself out of this.
