Disasterous Me

January 29, 2012 § 2 Comments

One of those days where I have a lot to say, a lot to talk about, but just cannot get myself to write anything. If it was a paper journal, my waste paper basket would be full.
I’m being a hypocrite. And I continue to be one. My moral compass says I’m being bad. And I continue on that path. Why? I need people to tell me I’m wrong or tell me I’m right.
I want to sit and talk about life over a cuppa coffee. I want to bitch about my flatmate. I want to giggle at stupid things like innuendos. I want midnight coffee runs. I want midnight ice-cream sessions. All in all, I want my friends here.
I never thought it would be this hard being in a new city, but it is. Turns out it’s easier to date than to make friends. And it’s not like my social calendar is empty. I get out plenty. But it’s all so superficial. Each time I get a call from an old friend, I’m reminded of what I’ve left behind. Each conversation leaves me staring at the phone with tears in my eyes.
Some days all I want to do is have someone hold me and tell me everything’s alright. So I hold myself and do so.


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