whyamistillawake

[RANDOM CRAP STORY: I didn't do anything with my hair today. I didn't even just put it in a ponytail; it was flat and uneven and gross looking in every way. I got to financial lit and Logan turned and said, "I really like your hair today." I kind of laughed and, since it's practically a fact that I can't accept a compliment from him, said, "Well, today's the crappiest it's been in like weeks," which made him almost frown since he is cursed with the inability to do so and he said, "Oh. Well, I like it." Then we just stared at each other awkwardly smiling and feeling weird until I just burst out laughing and said, "I've missed you so much, Logan." Then he laughed and I knew we were okay and I felt so happy and hopeless and okay because Logan said nice things to me when no one in their right mind should've.]

This week is closing in on me. As I practiced rifle for 30 minutes tops and wrote the first paragraph of my 5-8 page paper, I didn't feel too stressed. As I danced to Huey Lewis and the News and The Beatles and listened to my dad talk about his childhood and tried on a new dress and ate the most delicious steak, I felt my life was so good.

Now I'm just scared to exist.