rainy days usually call for tons of introspection

Totally been in a hell of a National funk these past couple of days. Drifting between Boxer and High Violet has made me a little jaded, and hell, I've never even seen the world.

Been a helluva quarter, too. Pretty sure I raised my own blood pressure via food and stress.

But I feel somewhat okay. I'll crank out an actor's critique for Iris tonight, get little to no sleep (tonight I'll be re-drowning in Boxer), wake up and leave the house in enough time to print stuff before my eight ay-em final, which will consist of me reciting a monologue as Dagny Taggart and then a performing a partner scene with awkward kissing to the sounds of Madam Butterfly, and then I'll be done, and then I'll actually get to leave for home tomorrow night. And somewhere between ten and that evening, maybe I'll have room to breathe in some of this wonderful, occasional, rainy day air before going home.

And maybe I'll get to say goodbye to you, but I don't know if you care that much anymore. I just don't get that vibe.

I'll take some cheese to go with this WHINE. Please.

Why am I afraid of just asking you outright? The answer? No, the aftermath. Because knowing my luck, you'll just keep your distance and I'll be wondering why the hell I try to remain friends with people.

Damn you for being so strong and being able to dance and having a great smile and a sense of humor and just...damn you. If you weren't yourself I wouldn't have this problem. You're too good for me.