So, somewhere in the midst of my letters project, I think it's time to make an actual post. Maybe it's motivated by my current emotional climate, but I do often find that it helps me to write it out sometimes. I guess I'm hoping for a little of the respite that I can occasionally find in writing.
Lately, I've been full of doubts. Normally, I'm pretty confident. I'm sure it's been clear from the tenor of some of the entries in my letters project that I'm having some difficulties with not feeling like myself lately. I feel like there are components that I'm losing, maybe that I've already lost. Pieces of myself that slip away from time to time. My ease with people, my confidence in myself, my ability to be honest, my faith in my relationships are all plunging.
I think about what happens if I screw up. I think about what will happen to my academic year if I don't get along with my potential roommates. I think about what will happen if I hate nursing, or--worse--if I'm no good at it. How will I choose a new career path? What will I do? Hell, I don't even like taking care of a simple little puppy, so it would only follow that I might absolutely abhor taking care of people. Just because I can stand seeing blood and guts, that doesn't mean that I'll be good at my potential future job. I'm more worried about what it will mean if I'm good at it but I hate it.
I worry about the state of my marriage, though things do seem to be getting better between JJ and myself. The guilt trips and the anger have stopped. We've been much more understanding of each other lately, and I'm more and more convinced that we'll get through this together. There are just times when I miss him terribly. Like today, having a bad mental day, I just want to be held--and not just anyone will do. I want to be held by the man that tells me that he loves me more than anything, that makes "the turtle face" just because he knows it makes me smile, whose hands envelop mine and make mine seem almost delicate (which they are definitely not). I want to be in that guy's arms. Right now.
I'd like to think that all this stress has to do with the total lack of any kind of restful sleep on my part as of late. Somehow, though, I fear that it's deeper than that. It's all coiling just below the surface to collect into one immense break during my semester. At least, that's my other fear here, that I'll be able to hold it in just until it will screw me over big time, at which point the dam will break and I'll crumble.
Lately, I just crave a simple solution. I wonder if I'd have one if I'd been just a little bit prettier, just a little bit skinnier, just a little bit smarter. Even just a little bit. None of those adjectives really seem to apply to me right now, but it would be fascinating to see what my life would be like if they did. Pretty, skinny, smart. How weird would that be? Would my life be easier? Would I know myself?
One of the things that I've been most incredulous about with the whole college dorm thing is my weight. How harshly will I be judged for it? How much harder will my life be because of it? How can I quick-fix it away? I've never been stupid enough in all of my life to consider starving myself or purging or anything like that--not to mention not having the guts to do any of those either--so there's no worry about that. I would really love it if the whole fairy godmother myth were real though.I know what my three wishes would be if I had a genie in a magic lamp.
It would just be nice if I could be calm. You know, they say that when you tell people that you're fine, what you really mean is Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional. I really wish that I wasn't doing FINE right now. Soon enough, I'll find my place again. I simply hate that I've lost it.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Day Seventeen: Someone From Your Childhood
Auntie Jo,
One of the best things about our family was always having you and Auntie Katy around when we were with Grandma and Grandpa. Having the two of you along with Grandma was like having three grandmothers on just one side of the family. There was constant love and care from all of you, and you all made sure that my brothers and I always had everything that we needed.
Yet, while I know that all of you loved me, I always felt that the person I was most like, the person that understood me those most of the three was you. There was something about you that I always identified with more than the others. Maybe your logical reasoning, maybe your cynicism (and I do mean that in the best of ways), or maybe it was your inability to put up with anyone else's crap.
After Grandma died, it was hard on all of us. However, having you to turn to, to complain and moan to, to confide in somehow made my life much easier. You passed away when I was 18, and that was incredibly hard for me too. I lost a valuable part of my support system at a vital time in my life. Since then, I've been very worried about your sister, whose naivete was often cushioned by your good sense and advice to her.
You and your sisters made my childhood a much better and happier experience than it might have been without you. We never had to suffer inept teenage babysitters or daycare centers. We never went without anything. Birthdays and Christmases were always spectacular because of you all. My childhood was always the better because of you.
Love,
Jessica
One of the best things about our family was always having you and Auntie Katy around when we were with Grandma and Grandpa. Having the two of you along with Grandma was like having three grandmothers on just one side of the family. There was constant love and care from all of you, and you all made sure that my brothers and I always had everything that we needed.
Yet, while I know that all of you loved me, I always felt that the person I was most like, the person that understood me those most of the three was you. There was something about you that I always identified with more than the others. Maybe your logical reasoning, maybe your cynicism (and I do mean that in the best of ways), or maybe it was your inability to put up with anyone else's crap.
After Grandma died, it was hard on all of us. However, having you to turn to, to complain and moan to, to confide in somehow made my life much easier. You passed away when I was 18, and that was incredibly hard for me too. I lost a valuable part of my support system at a vital time in my life. Since then, I've been very worried about your sister, whose naivete was often cushioned by your good sense and advice to her.
You and your sisters made my childhood a much better and happier experience than it might have been without you. We never had to suffer inept teenage babysitters or daycare centers. We never went without anything. Birthdays and Christmases were always spectacular because of you all. My childhood was always the better because of you.
Love,
Jessica
Day Sixteen: Person Not In Your Country
David,
Oh, David! You were the super interesting Irish guy from my fledgling days of the Internet. I was maybe 14 and we still had WebTV--what a trip that was! I stumbled upon you in some kind of chat room, and I was quite glad that I did. You were terribly cool to me at the time.
Needless to say, things fell apart when I got grounded. (You know how it is. Bad girls like me get busted for long periods of time. I'm pretty sure that I was grounded for something like two months.) Of course, when I was finally permitted back online, I didn't get to talk to you as much. School and life get in the way.
At some point, we got rid of that archaic WebTV. I don't even remember what my screen name was anymore. OzzyChic and some numbers (maybe 94515? 94514? Something like that...I think). I'd say if I had to point out a first online crush, though, you were it! Of course, at 14, I'd have had a crush on a wooden post if it had pretended to listen while I blathered about my teenage problems.
The point here is that I still occasionally wonder what happened to you. Ah, life! How interesting to think of the people that touch our lives, no?
Jessica
Oh, David! You were the super interesting Irish guy from my fledgling days of the Internet. I was maybe 14 and we still had WebTV--what a trip that was! I stumbled upon you in some kind of chat room, and I was quite glad that I did. You were terribly cool to me at the time.
Needless to say, things fell apart when I got grounded. (You know how it is. Bad girls like me get busted for long periods of time. I'm pretty sure that I was grounded for something like two months.) Of course, when I was finally permitted back online, I didn't get to talk to you as much. School and life get in the way.
At some point, we got rid of that archaic WebTV. I don't even remember what my screen name was anymore. OzzyChic and some numbers (maybe 94515? 94514? Something like that...I think). I'd say if I had to point out a first online crush, though, you were it! Of course, at 14, I'd have had a crush on a wooden post if it had pretended to listen while I blathered about my teenage problems.
The point here is that I still occasionally wonder what happened to you. Ah, life! How interesting to think of the people that touch our lives, no?
Jessica
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Day Fifteen: The Person You Miss The Most
Teenage Self,
I suppose if I'm going to be a real person, I'm going to go ahead and be real about my extreme egotism. The person that I miss the most is the person that I used to be, my teenage self.
When I was a teenager, everything was so different. It wasn't just the lack of fiscal responsibility--though I did have a job and take care of myself fairly well, I think. It was the friends, my personal level of honesty, the way that the world felt to me. So many of my friends, I think, are starting to give up on their lives. Once you hit the mid twenties, the possibilities aren't so endless anymore. People start to give up on their dreams, and it's sort of heartbreaking to watch.
I guess the centrality of what I miss about you, Teenage Jessica, is your honesty. When you get to be an adult, you have to sacrifice the idea of being honest with yourself and with everyone around you. Social graces and responsibilities start to stand in the way. You start to have to conform a lot more for the sake of making your life just a little bit easier. You don't have the luxury of being careless with your possibilities and the feelings of others. When you're a teenager, you get over things so much more quickly. You move on, you forget and forgive. As adults, there's much more bitterness. People don't forgive as easily, and when they do, they certainly don't ever forget.
It's not just your honesty with other people that changes, though. It's your honesty with yourself. You start to accept things that you never would have accepted before because you keep telling yourself that it's a part of being an adult, part of growing up. You think you're obligated to settle down and take some things, so you start to take 'em. Hopefully, if you're like me, you have a wake up call and you start to rethink your life, rethink why you're thinking the way you're thinking.
The world just felt so different when I was a teenager. There were so many possibilities. I had much more hope, more faith in people. I've definitely become jaded over the years. I felt things so much more deeply. I allowed people into my heart so much more quickly. Time has made me cautious, less trusting. Conversely, I'm so much riskier with my choices now--perhaps as a side effect of being so tired of this rut I'm in. Emotionally, I'm closed off, but I'm reckless. If I could combine my recklessness with my emotions back then, I'd have been a much more interesting person. Maybe I'd have compromised less.
Teenage Jessica, this is me in the throes of my mid-midlife crisis. If I could go back to where you are right now, I might take that opportunity. I think there's more of a chance when you're younger to follow your heart--the main problem with that being that, when you're young, your heart has no idea what it wants.
In an effort to stop missing myself so much, I will be doing the following things to bring me back to me:
I hate to think that I need to start all that self-exploration all over, but I need to know who I am now. If that means starting over, then I'm starting over. Just help me, Teenage Self, to recall what it felt like to know who I was. I don't always remember.
Yours,
You!
I suppose if I'm going to be a real person, I'm going to go ahead and be real about my extreme egotism. The person that I miss the most is the person that I used to be, my teenage self.
When I was a teenager, everything was so different. It wasn't just the lack of fiscal responsibility--though I did have a job and take care of myself fairly well, I think. It was the friends, my personal level of honesty, the way that the world felt to me. So many of my friends, I think, are starting to give up on their lives. Once you hit the mid twenties, the possibilities aren't so endless anymore. People start to give up on their dreams, and it's sort of heartbreaking to watch.
I guess the centrality of what I miss about you, Teenage Jessica, is your honesty. When you get to be an adult, you have to sacrifice the idea of being honest with yourself and with everyone around you. Social graces and responsibilities start to stand in the way. You start to have to conform a lot more for the sake of making your life just a little bit easier. You don't have the luxury of being careless with your possibilities and the feelings of others. When you're a teenager, you get over things so much more quickly. You move on, you forget and forgive. As adults, there's much more bitterness. People don't forgive as easily, and when they do, they certainly don't ever forget.
It's not just your honesty with other people that changes, though. It's your honesty with yourself. You start to accept things that you never would have accepted before because you keep telling yourself that it's a part of being an adult, part of growing up. You think you're obligated to settle down and take some things, so you start to take 'em. Hopefully, if you're like me, you have a wake up call and you start to rethink your life, rethink why you're thinking the way you're thinking.
The world just felt so different when I was a teenager. There were so many possibilities. I had much more hope, more faith in people. I've definitely become jaded over the years. I felt things so much more deeply. I allowed people into my heart so much more quickly. Time has made me cautious, less trusting. Conversely, I'm so much riskier with my choices now--perhaps as a side effect of being so tired of this rut I'm in. Emotionally, I'm closed off, but I'm reckless. If I could combine my recklessness with my emotions back then, I'd have been a much more interesting person. Maybe I'd have compromised less.
Teenage Jessica, this is me in the throes of my mid-midlife crisis. If I could go back to where you are right now, I might take that opportunity. I think there's more of a chance when you're younger to follow your heart--the main problem with that being that, when you're young, your heart has no idea what it wants.
In an effort to stop missing myself so much, I will be doing the following things to bring me back to me:
- Blogging more often--when I was in high school, I wrote in my LJ about EVERYTHING. I also kept a real journal for when I felt like writing in cursive. Good times.
- Acknowledging and owning my feelings.
- Being more outgoing--meeting and trusting new people is important.
- Sleeping. (This may sound ridiculous, but I used to LOVE sleeping. My friend Sam and I used to take purposeful naps.)
- Embracing emotional honesty, even if it's a situation that makes me uncomfortable.
- Trying a little harder at poetry and writing because they used to be so important to me.
- Setting aside some quiet time for me each week.
I hate to think that I need to start all that self-exploration all over, but I need to know who I am now. If that means starting over, then I'm starting over. Just help me, Teenage Self, to recall what it felt like to know who I was. I don't always remember.
Yours,
You!
Day Fourteen: Person You've Drifted Away From
Karen,
I would say that, of all the people that I've drifted away from, I definitely miss you the most. Back in school, you were always one of the girls that I related to the most. You always had a much more unique perspective, closer to my own than most of the other girls that we hung out with. Maybe that could be chalked up to your unfailing cynicism, honesty, and commitment to logical reasoning. (Don't get me wrong, I don't certainly don't embody all of those qualities, but I always related to them in you.)
We never had a big falling out or anything. There were never hard feelings or whatever, but it was always something that I missed. I mean, you know, time splits people. We're certainly on different paths with different goals. You've probably forgotten more about technology than I have ever known. And I probably know more about drinking and poor choices than you'll ever learn--even if you decided that making bad choices and drinking was your new life's goal.
Beyond all the digression, I'd like you to know that I have always respected and valued you. And if you wanted to chat or whatever, I'm totally down. Also, I miss our awesome Japanese class days. If only I could go back to just that one class!
Yours,
Jessica
I would say that, of all the people that I've drifted away from, I definitely miss you the most. Back in school, you were always one of the girls that I related to the most. You always had a much more unique perspective, closer to my own than most of the other girls that we hung out with. Maybe that could be chalked up to your unfailing cynicism, honesty, and commitment to logical reasoning. (Don't get me wrong, I don't certainly don't embody all of those qualities, but I always related to them in you.)
We never had a big falling out or anything. There were never hard feelings or whatever, but it was always something that I missed. I mean, you know, time splits people. We're certainly on different paths with different goals. You've probably forgotten more about technology than I have ever known. And I probably know more about drinking and poor choices than you'll ever learn--even if you decided that making bad choices and drinking was your new life's goal.
Beyond all the digression, I'd like you to know that I have always respected and valued you. And if you wanted to chat or whatever, I'm totally down. Also, I miss our awesome Japanese class days. If only I could go back to just that one class!
Yours,
Jessica
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Day Thirteen: Person You Wish Could Forgive You
Amanda M./K.,
I really miss you. I don't want to be those people that never speak again for a stupid reason. I don't want my life to turn into Snow Flower and the Secret Fan or The Kite Runner or something.
Maybe soon, one of us can swallow our pride and bridge the gap.
Jessica
I really miss you. I don't want to be those people that never speak again for a stupid reason. I don't want my life to turn into Snow Flower and the Secret Fan or The Kite Runner or something.
Maybe soon, one of us can swallow our pride and bridge the gap.
Jessica
Day Twelve: Person You Hate Most
Unfortunately, Readers, I don't think that there's a person that qualifies here as a person that I hate the most. There are people that I dislike and people that make me grind my teeth with their frequently uttered stupidity, but I don't think there's anyone that I would go so far as to say I hate. I think that requires an expenditure of energy that I'm just not a really big fan of.
Don't get me wrong here, Readers, because I am a very angry individual. I rant, rave, and complain on a regular basis. As someone I worked with at Owens once said, I don't suffer fools well at all. I have very little patience for most people and even less for people that keep making the same mistakes.
Hate, on the other hand, requires a ridiculous amount of time spent on the person that you dislike. Also, you really have to have a perpetual commitment to thinking about how much you dislike that person. You might even formulate elaborate revenge schemes to get back at them or spend your life trying to ruin theirs--which, in truly Karmic form, usually ends up only really ruining yours once you've realized how much time you spend on the science of hate and revenge.
Personally, I don't believe in devoting that much of my precious time and energy to people that I dislike. I might do a little bit of Internet where-are-they-now searching, but that's about it. I just don't really care that much. Now, really, I'm cheating with this post because the alternate topic was to write to the person that's hurt you the most. I had two really good choices there, but I've already written to both of them--and I'll let you go ahead and have the capability of determining who I'm talking about. For the sake of avoiding redundancy, I decided I'd just make a blanket generalization on the subject of hate.
Realistically, I could write even more about this subject. I am, however, choosing to go back to bed. In triumphant, sleep-related news, I went to bed at a decent hour and slept for five solid hours! Woo hoo! The downside is that, in order for me to accomplish this goal, I had to stay awake for a consecutive 24 hours. However, progress is progress, no matter how much regression you had to do to get there.
Don't get me wrong here, Readers, because I am a very angry individual. I rant, rave, and complain on a regular basis. As someone I worked with at Owens once said, I don't suffer fools well at all. I have very little patience for most people and even less for people that keep making the same mistakes.
Hate, on the other hand, requires a ridiculous amount of time spent on the person that you dislike. Also, you really have to have a perpetual commitment to thinking about how much you dislike that person. You might even formulate elaborate revenge schemes to get back at them or spend your life trying to ruin theirs--which, in truly Karmic form, usually ends up only really ruining yours once you've realized how much time you spend on the science of hate and revenge.
Personally, I don't believe in devoting that much of my precious time and energy to people that I dislike. I might do a little bit of Internet where-are-they-now searching, but that's about it. I just don't really care that much. Now, really, I'm cheating with this post because the alternate topic was to write to the person that's hurt you the most. I had two really good choices there, but I've already written to both of them--and I'll let you go ahead and have the capability of determining who I'm talking about. For the sake of avoiding redundancy, I decided I'd just make a blanket generalization on the subject of hate.
Realistically, I could write even more about this subject. I am, however, choosing to go back to bed. In triumphant, sleep-related news, I went to bed at a decent hour and slept for five solid hours! Woo hoo! The downside is that, in order for me to accomplish this goal, I had to stay awake for a consecutive 24 hours. However, progress is progress, no matter how much regression you had to do to get there.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Day Eleven: A Deceased Person You Wish You Could Talk To
Grandma,
I don't even think that there are words to tell you how much I miss you. Some of my very best childhood memories revolved around spending time with you and your sisters. You really were the glue that held our family together, and we have not been the same since you're gone.
I remember so much. I remember strolling around Wal-Mart with you, getting to pick out a toy. I remember having a fashion show with Linda in your living room. I remember the pink room, and napping up there while we waited for Cynthia to come to town. I remember how you used to babysit for us at the house in Granger, how we sat in the evenings and watched movies--specifically, I remember laying on my tummy and watching The NeverEnding Story while you guys folded laundry (whites because there were socks). I remember that first time that we dyed my hair an irrational, unnatural color and how afraid Dad was that you were going to hate it. You'll never know how wonderful it was for me to hear you tell me that you loved it.
There have been so many times since you've been gone that I've wanted to talk to you, to get your advice. On more than a few occasions, I've just wanted a hug from you or to see your face. There have been so many occasions in my life that I've wished you could have been there for: my high school graduation, my wedding day, the day that I got inducted into Phi Theta Kappa, my second female lead role in my high school play, etc. I wish I could know if you'd have been proud of me, of the choices that I've made. I wish I knew if you'd have liked to person that I've become today, or if the person that I am would have been different, would have been better if you were still in my life.
Most of all, I just hope that you know how much I loved you, still love you. When you died, I was a snotty thirteen-year-old girl. No one could tell me anything--in many ways, I'm still the same, I guess. I was so busy trying to grow up as fast as I could and find my place in the world that, sometimes, family fell by the wayside. I've spent an awful lot of time worried about myself and not enough time at all worried about the people that I love--or, for that matter, whether they know and understand that they are the people that I love. I hope that it wasn't ever like that for you, that you knew that I love you. I hope you know that I appreciated the things that you did for us and the love that you gave us, and that I miss you all the time.
Love,
Your Teary Granddaughter
I don't even think that there are words to tell you how much I miss you. Some of my very best childhood memories revolved around spending time with you and your sisters. You really were the glue that held our family together, and we have not been the same since you're gone.
I remember so much. I remember strolling around Wal-Mart with you, getting to pick out a toy. I remember having a fashion show with Linda in your living room. I remember the pink room, and napping up there while we waited for Cynthia to come to town. I remember how you used to babysit for us at the house in Granger, how we sat in the evenings and watched movies--specifically, I remember laying on my tummy and watching The NeverEnding Story while you guys folded laundry (whites because there were socks). I remember that first time that we dyed my hair an irrational, unnatural color and how afraid Dad was that you were going to hate it. You'll never know how wonderful it was for me to hear you tell me that you loved it.
There have been so many times since you've been gone that I've wanted to talk to you, to get your advice. On more than a few occasions, I've just wanted a hug from you or to see your face. There have been so many occasions in my life that I've wished you could have been there for: my high school graduation, my wedding day, the day that I got inducted into Phi Theta Kappa, my second female lead role in my high school play, etc. I wish I could know if you'd have been proud of me, of the choices that I've made. I wish I knew if you'd have liked to person that I've become today, or if the person that I am would have been different, would have been better if you were still in my life.
Most of all, I just hope that you know how much I loved you, still love you. When you died, I was a snotty thirteen-year-old girl. No one could tell me anything--in many ways, I'm still the same, I guess. I was so busy trying to grow up as fast as I could and find my place in the world that, sometimes, family fell by the wayside. I've spent an awful lot of time worried about myself and not enough time at all worried about the people that I love--or, for that matter, whether they know and understand that they are the people that I love. I hope that it wasn't ever like that for you, that you knew that I love you. I hope you know that I appreciated the things that you did for us and the love that you gave us, and that I miss you all the time.
Love,
Your Teary Granddaughter
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Internet Dreamin' (To The Tune of California Dreamin')
In the interest of writing a real blog (which I seem to have yet to do since the letter-writing excursion), I opted to take a moment here to write about a dream that I just had. To be clear, a friend of mine invited me out for the first time since JJ and I separated tonight. Eager to get out of the house and have some fucking fun, I agreed. I'm sure I don't need to say it, but in the interest of clarity, here's the important fact: there was a lot of alcohol consumed tonight. In fact, I haven't gotten that drunk in quite some time. It's nice, but it's not nice at the same time.
When I got home, I got online to update Twitter and blog. JJ was online. Of course, talking turned into fighting. I'm not a very good fighter when I'm drunk. I'm also sad to report that it really kills any kind of pleasant buzz that you have going to be fighting while you're drunk. The downside is that then the alcohol turns on you, and you just feel pathetic, worthless, used up, and ruinous...or maybe that's just me?
So, resigned to my fate of being the worst wife and human being on the face of planet Earth, I lay me down to sleep. I awakened myself only a few minutes ago with pathetic dreams, and I do mean pathetic. For example, the first thing that I dreamt about was responding to other people's tweets on Twitter. Let me repeat that: I dreamt about fucking Twitter, for Christ's sakes. My next dream included me talking about my blog. When someone asked what it was about, I responded by saying, "It's a about a woman who wishes she could be someone else and all the lives that she destroys." Apparently, this is how I'm describing myself these days. Fantastic.
There's really something just the littlest bit pathological about describing yourself that way in a dream. That's deep-seated. I'm really uncomfortable with that. When I'm describing myself as a life-ruiner even in my dreams, we have problems. Big ones. Clearly, I can't keep doing this. I know why I keep feeling this way, and I can't keep it up. Something has to change. I really need to isolate for a little while.
For now, I'm going back to sleep. I'll try not to dream myself into any more self-esteem problems.
When I got home, I got online to update Twitter and blog. JJ was online. Of course, talking turned into fighting. I'm not a very good fighter when I'm drunk. I'm also sad to report that it really kills any kind of pleasant buzz that you have going to be fighting while you're drunk. The downside is that then the alcohol turns on you, and you just feel pathetic, worthless, used up, and ruinous...or maybe that's just me?
So, resigned to my fate of being the worst wife and human being on the face of planet Earth, I lay me down to sleep. I awakened myself only a few minutes ago with pathetic dreams, and I do mean pathetic. For example, the first thing that I dreamt about was responding to other people's tweets on Twitter. Let me repeat that: I dreamt about fucking Twitter, for Christ's sakes. My next dream included me talking about my blog. When someone asked what it was about, I responded by saying, "It's a about a woman who wishes she could be someone else and all the lives that she destroys." Apparently, this is how I'm describing myself these days. Fantastic.
There's really something just the littlest bit pathological about describing yourself that way in a dream. That's deep-seated. I'm really uncomfortable with that. When I'm describing myself as a life-ruiner even in my dreams, we have problems. Big ones. Clearly, I can't keep doing this. I know why I keep feeling this way, and I can't keep it up. Something has to change. I really need to isolate for a little while.
For now, I'm going back to sleep. I'll try not to dream myself into any more self-esteem problems.
Day Ten: Someone You'd Like to Talk to More Often
Jessica,
I feel like you really understand my situation because you're in a similar one yourself. I really wish that I lived in Indiana still so that we could talk more about what's going on because I could really use some advice about where I'm at right now. Lately, it all just makes me feel guilty, worthless, and terrible.
Also, I think you're amazing, and I love your taste in music. Really, I love your taste in most things in general. If I had to pick one person that gets my idea of what cool is, it would be you. You're awesome.
Personally, I chalk it up to the Jessica bond.
Yours,
Jessica
I feel like you really understand my situation because you're in a similar one yourself. I really wish that I lived in Indiana still so that we could talk more about what's going on because I could really use some advice about where I'm at right now. Lately, it all just makes me feel guilty, worthless, and terrible.
Also, I think you're amazing, and I love your taste in music. Really, I love your taste in most things in general. If I had to pick one person that gets my idea of what cool is, it would be you. You're awesome.
Personally, I chalk it up to the Jessica bond.
Yours,
Jessica
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