January 27, 2002
Sane Kind of Happiness
Kelsi and I are retards. I probably more so. The fact that we talk to eachother at least twice a day, squeaking out our stories and exclaiming over our joint hyper-active muses (for which I am absolutely not complaining).
Unemployment is great for my writing. I wrote the bulk of Marian when I wasn't working in September, and now the approaching-epic new novel has reached seventy pages. It is so going to be of legitimate length. Something quite foreign to me.
You know, concerning books and... other things.
That was so below the belt.
Below the belt! Of legitimate length!
I'm collapsing in perverse fits. God, I miss my boyfriend.
Speaking of bastards who don't phone nearly often enough for my tastes, Kelsi remarked vaguely on our revelations and sadness of last night. We were listening to Sarah Mclachlan, big mistake, and of course we grew all reflective and morose. This sadness was spawned by remembering the summer, maybe three years ago, when she and I and Clare and Cassy went to the Lilith Fair. And the four of us aren't nearly as close as we used to be. We might never be like that again. We were truly happy, an unspoiled joy that I haven't encountered in so long.
And I realized that I can't even say I was truly happy when Ryan was here. He made me infinitely happy, yes, but there was always something in the back of my mind. Be it my mother screaming at me or making me feel guilty, or worrying about paying for college, or worrying about Ryan.
And I realized that I cried for what I am feeling now, for the first time, in May. At prom. I even wrote about it. My time with Ryan has always been spoiled by the fact that it will end.
Is this a sane kind of happiness?
Is there such a thing?
astera at 11:32 p.m.