I call this: "Rambling".

This is going to be a write off. Something that I write that I'm only writing here. Something that is basically a stream of conciousness. Babbling isn't the word, but it's what comes to mind. I'm sitting on a brand new futon covered in the blankets I have accomodated over the years. The first layer being the bed spread that my old room mate Alex left behind when he moved back to Kansas. The second layer being the Gir blanket Chris gave me back in the day when we were dating and I kept complaining that I was cold in my old basement bed room. The third is a panda blanket my parents gave to me on my 16th birthday. The fourth is one that was found in someones car. The 5th and 6th blankets were courtesy of my merciful room mate, Ali G. She really is someone who I would think 'she lets everyone use her', but at the same time, couldn't I say that about myself? Even though I'm poor, i still manage to buy a meal for my friends. Maybe a pack of cigs. Perhaps even a tank of gas. I don't mind that I share all of what I work hard for. I would rather spend my money in a way that helps others and makes their loads a little less, you know? Something must be wrong with me since that sort of thing seems to be a little... oh... you know... unamerican.
Some things are unexplainable.
Some things are down right looked down upon.
Some things make people want to hit you.
Some things are ment to be sacred.
Sacred. Nothing is sacred anymore. It's a fact. Your past. Your present. Your sex life.
You know, people thought I was crazy. People said that you can't just snap your fingers and find yourself in love. People even tell me that even if you think you love someone, you probably don't. Puppy love or something to that effect. My mother used to say that when she was in middle school, when she met my father, she said that at that moment, she knew she was going to marry him. I thought I had that too. But I didn't. I was wrong to think like that. Couples hardly end up like that. Ever. I would like to say that was a practice round. My first real life experience that took the most of 2 years. I like to think I've learned.
Even though I've been sick for most of my existance, it still sucks when I get the common cold.
There are 3 girls in the other room: Alex, Emily and Jessica. They're talking about sex. Mostly lesbian sex because it's utterly fascinating.
"Shouldn't a girl your age be finding a husband by now?"... love you too, grandma.
Things that my grandma says sometimes makes me feel like I'm going to die alone. Like I'm never going to have a husband or a family. And yet, would I want a family? Should I want to have children that will probably be burdened with the same illnesses that I have to deal with day to day? Is it selfish to actually want to have children even though the possibility of them being medical phenomenons as well at well over 70%? Would that make me a horrible person? Because I don't want my children to wonder why their mother decided to have them and to bless them with thyroid disease and multiple heart problems.
If I don't find a different job soon, my credit card will probably be maxed out by the end of next month.
I'm going to Kansas at the end of this month. I'm looking forward to all of the doctors and dentists visits that I've schedualed. But that balances out with being able to see all of my old friends. Well. Some of them. Most of them don't remember me too well anymore. Or better yet, they don't really seem to care. I don't mean all of them because I still keep in touch with quite a few of them.
I'm feeling tired but I'm pretty sure I'm not about to fall asleep.
You ever get the feeling that you're lying?
I had a dream yesterday. It was more like a memory because I remember when I was driving to work and then all of the sudden, I forgot where I was. I forgot what my name is and started thinking that Zwee was a strange name and couldn't find the face to put with the name. I regained my composure a minute later and my identity came back. It's strange to forget your name and who you are. Try it sometime.
I keep thinking that things aren't going to work out. Don't know why. Maybe it's because everything else seems to suck. No. That's not it. Because everything else doesn't really suck as badly as it seems. At least, I tend to think that way.
I used to never regret anything.
I always thought I was going to end up being that kind old lady that lived out in the country in her green house where she would talk to her plants and raise the healthiest looking lillys and orchids and assorted plants since she didn't have to care for anyone else but herself.
No one will actually read through this entire thing because it doesn't appeal to anyone.
Rambling.
End.