To the glory that was Greece....

So Rammstein turns out to be pretty good study music when I'm unbelievably pissed.

I made it to Maryland all right. My hallmates are amazing, my classes are all right.

At the moment I'm up at one twenty in the morning writing an outline of Pericles' Funeral Oration. Remind me why I did Honors Origins of the West?

It's been a week since I arrived, and I can see myself getting homesick on the horizon. I think about David everyday. I think I'm sick. Lovesick. I just keep replaying memories over and over again. I never said I wasn't masochistic. I really need to stop; it just makes things worse. I was reading some of my Skills for Ministry homework, and turned out to be a section on lonliness and solitude. How rampant lonliness is in our culture, how fake the togetherness is and how that perverted sense of community destroys us. More or less. The feelings of homesickness and lonliness can rushing to the forfront, and it hurts. Is this what he meant when he said he felt bad for leading me on? Did he know that I would torture myself so, and that he would hardly think of me? I check Facebook every few hours waiting for a message, anything. Will this ever fade away? I'm so utterly pathetic. Nothing will come from this, nothing. I keep clinging to this idea that we could be together when we're home...but I know that that won't happen. It won't work. And why should I be grieving for what I never had? I don't know if it ever will be, but I want it so. The memories are comforting, in a way. But lust is so inviting, so comforting. Maybe I just have to get used to being single again.

maybe he shouldn't have told me. But then I wouldn't have these memories. He won't think of me, he doesn't. God, if I only had a man's rationality and logic. And lack of prevalence of emotions. PMS doens't help, but it's not the main reason. It's like bolding and underlining it.

hell


h



e



l

l


Damn.


In other news, I love college.

sortof.


IT only happens at night, this lonliness.

Rammstein, be my friend.

His lips on mine....his arms intertwined with mine


Burn it. Burn the image, the feeling of his jacket, his hands, his lips. BURN.