Rosaliebyrd13

I think I might have loved him once, back in the beginning. I think I almost remember looking at him in wonder and thinking perfect. Back before we had that awkward first kiss, back before I discovered that I am not a big fan of mushy shit. He’s the romantic one, really. You can hear women saying that about their men all the time, proud as can be to have a “highly evolved” man for a husband/boyfriend/significant other. But those women love the romance, the emotion, the connection. I don’t. I’m the one with a one track mind; he’s the one planning our wedding and our jobs, and the house we’ll live in, and th

Home is a dangerous subject to bring out around boarding school students. Home is what causes the most internal conflict. I should know. Home is what's causing me to be awake at two fifteen in the morning, writing instead of doing the thing I need and want most, sleep. Home is the type of idea that the "residence life" counselors like to bring up five days before the actual departure from campus. Home is not what is discussed, but instead the act of going home. Going home for them is a risky and only slightly controlled experiment where the subjects are released into the wilds of the real world with little or no supervision. Their duty as o

i didn't realize how awkward dancing can be between two friends until last night. Apperantly the awkwardness I know from watching a sex sceene with a guy friend is nothing compared to dancing with them "like that". everone else on the dance floor didn't seem awkward about it at all, and yet when I saw him today he just blushed and walked away. What was that about? maybe i'm a terrible dancer, i dont know. Don't try to tell me that it's because he likes me, because he totally doesn't. I can't even remember who started the dancing. It could've been me who walked upt to him or vice versa. actually I think I was with a group and then he came up b