Last week was the three year anniversary of my arrival here. Guess I've been absent minded a little lately and forgot to mention that before.
A lot has happened in that time. I've had all three of my sisters here at one point. Though they are all gone now, I still feel blessed to be here. Everyday. I miss them so much, though.
I've spent a good part of the last nine years questioning my life and my purpose, and I'm pretty sure that I'm no closer to an answer than when I started. What if the answer is that there is no answer at all, and that our lives have no meaning? Should that change the way we act? Does I make it better or worse if the good and bad things that happen to us are completely random?
Maybe I'm missing something, but the disembodied hearts and blood red that fills the stores this time of year has always seemed rather barbaric to me. I know it's supposed to represent love in some way, but it reminds me more of a particularly brutal murder scene.
I don't care if The Borgias or The Tudors on Netflix are historical dramas. Or that I should take what happens in them with a grain of salt, that it might not actually have happened the way the shows say it did.
The past week has been a bit of a whirlwind. I moved in to a house with my friend Octavia and her young daughter, Aurelia, because her partner, Lincoln, was sent home.
We're going to have a small dinner at the house tomorrow with our friends from home and you're all more than welcome to drop by and join us. If I don't see you, I want you to know that I'm thankful for your friendship.
Apparently my birthday falls on a day designated to honor people who've fought in wars.
But war affects more than just people who've fought in it. So I shall honor my parents, who only wanted to get by while the world was being torn apart around them and was vilified for it anyways.
I seem to be back to normal. I apologize to whomever found themselves making earthquakes - it seems the town is still in one place, so it couldn't have been too catastrophic.
I feel as though I am living the life of an every day regular human. It's a rather strange feeling. Even when we were living in our gated community outside of DC and struggling not to stick out, I never felt this...normal.
I've yet to decide whether it's a good thing or not.
How many different types of nacho chips does a person need? How many different kinds of apples does a person need?
It seems a waste, all that selection. I would think it would be better to simply have one good apple, and one good nacho chip. It would make it far easier for those of us who aren't familiar with these things.
I have found a job working as the systems admin for a small law firm's network. Thankfully, it won't require me to interact with too many people. I'm afraid I'm not terribly good at that.
[Molly]
How are you? I haven't spoken to you in some time.
WHO Bucky Barnes & Adamus Sutekh WHAT Antisocial people running into each other WHEN Monday afternoon WHERE Starbucks WARNINGS TBD, likely low STATUS Closed | Incomplete | Match-Up
Guilt is one of those things that just doesn't go away.
You'll think you're fine one moment, then it'll come slamming down on you the next. And I have so many things to feel guilty for. And things that I feel guilty that I don't feel guilty for.
Who: Open to anyone that would come to the party What: Labor day gathering Where: The farmhouse When: Monday afternoon (forward dated to give people time) Warnings: Truth plot ongoing, anything is possible Status: Open party type post
I've had a crush on this guy for a really long time. Now I have a chance with him except all I can think of is that I helped him commit suicide. And he died while I was left with a gunshot wound in my thigh and a psyche that was shattered like a rock got thrown through it. So now I'm here. With him here and alive. And he noticed my boobs. Finally. But he was dead and I helped with that so now I'm all screwed up. Again.