Fortress of Solitude

It's June. A month with lovely weather and gorgeous nights, one where my bestest friends celebrate their birthdays (some longer than others) and a time where I happen to feel really crappy – about all sorts of things.

Currently, I'm sick. My throat hurts, my eyes are burning, I ache and when I'm lucky, I can breathe through my nose. I quarantined myself in my apartment today and slept as much as possible, watched some movies, read a book, avoided homework like a champ, and overall felt sorry for myself. But that's not my only issue right now.

Living here, while it has amazing perks, sucks every now and again. I love the days I spend an hour and a half on the phone with J, but it makes the times in between those calls ever more depressing. I don't get it. I hardly got to see her the last three years anyway, but knowing there's such distance between us now is disheartening. But for that hour and a half, she makes everything feel right in the world. Someone that honestly, truly cares about me and isn't afraid of saying so. Sometimes that's all a girl needs: to know that someone else out there in the cosmos cares and appreciates who it is that you are. I miss having people who get me, who just know me that well. And I love that I know her better than anyone else and can tell within her first three words if anything is wrong. You don't find friends like that often, if ever. She knows the best and worst parts of me and loves them both. I couldn't be more grateful to know her.

Thirdly, although the least important in this random thought seepage, I need a haircut more than I have ever in my entire life. I don't even like to look in the mirror. I didn't recognize myself in a recent photo right away. My indecisiveness on the matter is just making it worse. It needs to go, but the problem is that once I get it cut in a fashion I like, it'll be in my face and over evidence when I get back to the lab, even if I try to pull it back. And it's going to annoy the shit out of me possibly more than the ugliness that is my current unending locks. This is one of the many times where it'd be wonderful if I had been born a guy. Because buzzing your hair off in the summertime is perfectly acceptable for them. Alas… I need to find somewhere to cut my hair and hope that I can trust whoever does it. It's a good 6 inches too long. I suppose this should be my next goal and I should just suck it up and get it done.

Get a haircut, like it or not.

Wow, did we all notice how much I went on about my hair? I feel like it has to represent something profound in my life. Wanting to get rid of it but unable to trust someone to let go? Not wanting to let it go for some reason that's not so clear to me yet?

It's pretty awful when you start reading into your own journal writing. Something is probably seriously wrong with my mind. I mean… you have to mean to write symbolism. There needs to be a conscious effort on the author's part, right?

Obviously this virus is messing with my mind. I should be sleeping.

End Blog.