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The Cure
23 March 2003 @ 6:20 p.m.
I finally did something for myself, to make me feel better. Something entirely selfish (well, almost) to make the Red come back to the peppy, personable soul she really is.
I'm still in clothes from yesterday, but my mood is different. I'm still holed up in my bedroom, but its feel is lighter. I popped a few Cure albums into the CD player, opened the windows, closed the door, turned up the volume, opened a new two-liter of Mountain Dew and began to code.
This is the result: oursecrets.diaryland.com. My buddy Patrick has owned the public diary for a while now, but it needed a facelift pretty badly. I've done a few banners for him and so he asked me to help out.
I needed to see what I could do again. I've been so down and so crazy-like these past few weeks, starting to think that I really am as worthless as I was perceiving things. So thank you, Pat.
***
I'm in the process of painting my nails, something I rarely do anymore. In high school, my nails were ALWAYS done. My hands were the one thing I was truly vain about. Hands always clean, moisturized, and callous-free. Nails in perfect condition. When J and I started to get serious, I stopped wearing nail polish almost entirely. It's not his favorite thing in the world and I didn't mind making the concession. When our romantic relationship fizzled out, I didn�t start wearing polish again unless my nails were all dry.
Something happened while J and I were on the phone today, though. It hit him, and then me, that it is just odd for us to keep in touch over the phone all the time anymore. He was talking about how he doesn�t like being so far away and storyless. He talked about how it�s difficult to keep our relationship as close over the phone � especially since we aren�t able to visit each other once a month right now. We talked about how none of our friends live close to each other and how much it kills him. Sure, he�s made new friends down there but they aren�t the same.
At least I know for certain now that our feelings are similar about the distance thing.
I don�t want to grow apart from him. I don�t. I don�t think I could handle it. He�s the one who talks me out of hysterias. He�s the one who calls from bars, casinos, strip clubs, and hockey games to tell me that he wishes I were there. (Not kidding about the strip club thing) He�s the one who, today, said that it truly isn�t me who can�t communicate, that The Little needs to grow up. J didn�t question when I said how I�m not certain if she should go through.
I can�t lose that. I think I may swing through his town on my birthday mini-vacation. Take an extra day off or something to spend with him.
currently reading: Faith of the Fallen - Terry Goodkind
currently listening: The Cure - Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me
