These aren't secrets, but I haven't told anyone either.
I may sound bipolar but I mostly just write about really great things or really bad things. Extremes, right?
I promise my feelings are continuous over the real emotions.

Saturday, September 14, 2013

Morning

It's too early to do dishes, too early to do work. Cold cinnamon toast that Neal forgot in the toaster keeps me company, washed down with emergen-c. Saturday morning, friends.
Yesterday I bought a new journal. It's enormous. It makes the statement: I have a home. We'll see what it turns into. What any of this turns into.
Last night I stayed home and slept instead of going to a party. It could almost have been described as a mature decision.
-Nick stops by and picks up S. for a meeting.-
Quiet house apart from the dishwasher.
Sometimes I can't tell if my skin is clear and my stomach flat or if I'm just having a good self esteem day.  I check by looking at my facebook pictures and seeing which ones of them make me cringe. None. Good self-esteem day. Worth so much more.
Under all the back to school panic is a deep and abiding satisfaction. Almost joy. It's the opposite of the summer.

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