Things haven't been.

I signed up in the fall for school. I was SO excited. I've waited so long and worked so hard to go back. What did I do? Throw my money at it and walk away. I'm so angry. I'm so disturbed.

Pri's Bachlorette party is tonight. I wish I could have gone. It's something that (should) only happen once. Once. All my friends gathered for one last horrah before pri gets married and starts popping out babies, buying houses, and I never hear from her again. Even though the party in and of itself sounded like it was going to be kind of lame - I would still have loved to go.

Work. I got a promotion - sounds great, right? It's more responsibility and hours which is great and wonderful - but it's also the exact same pay that I was working for before. So the hands of good fortune aren't exactly equalizing here.

Church. *sigh* It used to be somber. It used to be if you just did your thing and wasn't stupid everything was all good. Then it became kinda fun. Lots of fun actually, but it also came with alot of stipulations and expectations. It became about the individual inside the group rather than the individual in and of themself. I became disenchanted and distanced. Though still with a longing in my heart. Like a spurned lover who can't be near their other for the pain, but the pain apart is nearly if not just as bad.

All of this coupled with things that have been said to me recently. Things that have been pointed out about me have left me with this little..........cyst. I guess that's the best word for it. It's not terminal - it's not even all that big a deal (medically) - it's just annoying and won't go away easily. But it's this nagging feeling - this emotion that at the end of the day wakes up, turns around and latches on to me. As soon as I forget about it's weight, it adds a few pounds just to remind me of it's mere presence. It's this little cyst that reminds me: Of others. Of my childhood dreams. Of the things I lack. Of the things I'll never be.

I won't go into all the details. There's no real need. But, all of what I've said is just the tip of the iceberg. They're just the easiest chucks to understand, for me to write about even. There's so much more - so much depth. I'm not sure if even talking about any of it will solve anything. It might just pour lemon juice on sores.

I had a plan once upon a time ago.
It's still here, bound in leather and kept safe near my side.
But, it's edges are starting to yellow. I wonder how long it'll be before the print begins to fade.

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