Je n'a pas beaucoup de temps

Tell me something. Talk to me. Tell me anything. Tell me about breakfast foods, if you want.
Just tell me.
Let me know.
Get back to me.
You know, when you can.
When it's convenient for you.
I want to be convenient.
I want to be more than convenient.
I want to be the most convenient thing.
The most amazing thing.

I don't know if that's me.

I like it when people smell nice.
But it's their own scent.
Not something else's.

I like it when people have their own individual, funny laugh.
I really like it when you can pick it out of a crowd, like a face or a certain pair of hands.
Or when they really like music.
People who like music are the very best kind of people.

Je veux le premier saison du O.C. ...est-ce-que quelqu'un peut m'aider?

Oh, and January?
That is quite enough of you.

Reasons to leave this month behind:
1. It is snowing and blowing and cold.
2. I cannot go outside for a run in my beautiful new running shoes.
3. I cannot go outside in my beautiful new boots that will be ruined in aforementioned snow, blowing, and cold.
4. February means I get to go to Denver in three weeks to pick out a grad dress and get away from all this.
5. Not that it won't be snowing, blowing and cold there, too;
6. But probably less snowing, blowing and cold.
7. January has seemed very, very long.
8. Maybe the change in monthly scenery (if you know what I mean) will give you a kick-start. Or rather, a return-to-the-start.
9. Cold, dry hands. Who needs them?
8. The second half of the end of our childhood starts in two days.
9. What's up with that?
10. That is quite enough out of you, Lyndsay.

11. I want to watch the O.C. . It is not on Netflix. Does anyone own the first season so that I can  borrow it and watch it?

La reve adolescente

Let you put your hands on me, 
In my skin-tight jeans.

It feels like there is a sordid lack of things to say or reflect upon as of late. I guess just because more of the same just keeps on happening, over and over, again, repeat, and I'm not really sure how I feel about that.
Wait, yes I do. I feel impatient. I am a very impatient person. If someone were to say I was a patient person, I would have to call them a liar. Or realize that they don't know me very well.
And that maybe they don't even want to.
Maybe they do, though.
They're elusive like that.

"It should be kept on the down-low. Like, in Australia probably."

It's kind of like our own inside joke, 
But it's not funny.

Buvez plus de the

SERIOUSLY, BRAIN, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU
LOTS THAT'S WHAT

You don't know me, at all. And I'm starting to think that you don't actually care that much. About knowing me. Or about anything to do with me. And maybe I expect too much. No, I do. I expect too much. I need too much. I need a lot of tea, and a lot of...knowing me. Why can't you just know me? Know me.

That would make this easier on me, and my well-developed tear ducts, that you can actually work out, much like an eagle's ciliary muscles. I would much rather write another bio exam tomorrow than a math exam, if anyone's keeping track. Or score. 

Maybe I shouldn't have barreled. I barreled. 

Barrel rolled.

Head first.

My ankle got caught on the door.

Now my Achilles tendon hurts.

That must be why.

Mustn't be for lack of new running shoes.

No.

And my head told my heart:

"Let love grow."

But my heart told my head,

"This time, no, 

This time, no."

Ralentissez, s'il vous plait. Arreter completement.

Hi there, folks.
I am tired. I feel physically exhausted from all this...this. My cell cycles are all out of whack, those special math-brain-cells spending FAR too long in mitosis, trying to reproduce as fast as they can and fill themselves with all this information I know I'll never remember come Tuesday. I don't even know how to ask for help because there is just nothing that works. Nothing makes sense anymore.
Maybe it would be better if my brain wasn't currently under seige from a thousand bajillion other things, like chinook-induced headaches, sentence structure for blogging (whaddafucccck), directing my soft palette upwards while I sing, where it plainly does not want to go because I simply do not have a single ounce of energy left for that, (plainly my adrenal cortex is malfunctioning, it should be releasing cortisol in this period of long-term stress that will metabolize fats and proteins into glucose to be used by my braaaaaain), zombies (?), overexposure to nail polish fumes and/or hand lotion toxins, if they are present, which they are, maybe, I don't know, whiny country songs, whiny inner dialogue with myself, whiny outer dialogue with others (mostly Katie), missing people, missing certain people, some of who know it, and some of whom maybe don't, wanting a hug, (a really, really good hug...Hannah, I hope you are up to the challenge as soon as I see you tomorrow), maybe a nice nap, and having no clue how to properly end this long, drawn-out sentence because I forget how it started.
Can I just tell you...
No.
I can't.

That's against the rules.

I'm so tired of being lonely.

Un demi de mon cerveau

What do I need?
What DO I need.
I need...I need. I need a lot.
Mostly, I need a hug, I think.
Maybe.
I don't know.
What do I need?

Maybe Hannah? Rachel?

...Yeah. I think so.

And a hug.

I think so.

Et bien

Sometimes, all it takes is someone telling you that you are a strong person, to make you teeter.

What am I doing?

Attends, Hannah!

AND I HAVE LOTION
A SHITLOAD OF LOTION
LIKE PRETTY MUCH A LIFETIME'S FUCKING SUPPLY

This is just a sneak preview:

Attends! Attends!

I'm funnier than this.
I'm not this awkward.
I say funny things.
I'm a nice person, on my good days.
But when I'm not a nice person, it can be funny?
I'm a funny person.
I'm funnier than this. Witty. Smart. Sometimes.
Maybe. Maybe I forget how to be funny.
But I am.
Funny, I mean.
I want you to know that.
Just thought you should know that.

I should study logs.
Not like trees.
See?
I'm funny.

Fuck, I wish I was funny.

Finalement, le frustration

Can't you just
Can't I just
Can't we just

D       A      Em      G

Blue skies, long runs, callused fingers, nervous systems, double-napped cones, welted knees, missing best friends.