Christmas

No family holiday is complete without a few tears and a little drunkenness. This year my sister provided the tears, my grandparents provided the alchohol, and I decided it was my turn to add to the drunkenness. Sadly, I just ended up awake, alone, and intoxicated on Christmas eve when everyone else had called it a night. Nevertheless, Christmas morning came and at 9am anyone who was still asleep was woken up for present opening. We open our presents one by one while everyone watches and exclaims what an amazing present someone got. My sister and I think this kinda kills the point, but we go along. Sometimes with big family get togethers, things get lost

Socks

I did three loads of laundry this week, and when I went to put them all away, I found a seriously annoying problem. None of my socks had pairs. Now, I realize this is a common issue for some people, some irresponsible, leave their laundry lying around people. But I am not one of those people. Seriously. I'm no neat freak, but I remember to pick up my laundry from the laundry room when its done, and I don't let it pile up too much. So when I had 13 socks without pairs I was flabbergasted. Yeah, thats right, no other word could possibly work except the outdated slang, flabbergasted. I can see how a few socks could get lost here and there, but I refuse to believe that all those sock halves are gone. I literally have never had this problem until I bought ten new pairs of socks last week, and this week all the halves of socks new and old are gone. Maybe most people just own too many socks, and we lose track until one day BLAM! they're gone. I'll be on the lookout for sneaky socks that perhaps cling to bed sheets or the insides of my t-shirts, but I will get to the bottom of this.

Two days later: I did laundry again today. Somehow I ended up with a bunch of unmatched socks again. But the good news is that some of them were the pairs to lonely socks from my last few loads. Somehow they got separated, but all I needed was a little patience. And, when I started thinking about it, I realized that I could use some more patience in most parts of my life. Its easy to get caught up in the speed and craziness of the world today, but sometimes if we let life just do its thing, we get just what we need. I want a lot of things right now, but right now might not be the right time. I hope I can take my own advice, have a little patience, and maybe I'll get what I need when I'm ready.

I'll be Here

you may not know yourself in the same way that I know me. But I assure you, I know me. I know what I want, and what will make me happy. Sure i leave my options open and welcome surprises. But, one thing I know is that you work. Yes, in my life, in terms of happiness you work. Every time I talk to you I laugh and smile. Every time I think about you I experience something that is more than just attraction. I miss you every day, and yet I manage to be happy knowing that you exist. I don't know if you feel the same way, or if your soul finds the same exitement as mine at the mention of your name. But, I know that I will do anything for you. I will wait for you. I will suffer through the time that we must spend apart if only I can guarantee the times that we can spend together. I know I should live in the present and try to find love wherever it comes. But, somehow the present is always you. It is you that I want, and you that I hope to be with. Time made you older, perhaps wiser. Maybe I am young and naive. But I think I love you, and I think I need to be with you before I can be without you. So come. Come here, or accept that I will go to wherever you are. I just have to know. I have to know if this can work; if this is just me. Or if it is mutual. I try not to, but I think I love you, and I can't stop.

Memories

I don't remember most of last fall. I remember what happened and the main events but I don't know about some of the details. I know that sometimes our body just shuts out painful memories or stores them so deep that we can get on with our lives without having to contemplate or try to understand the horrible parts of out lives. One thing I know for sure and will never forget, is that I spent 2 and half days in a mental institution last year. Part of me doesn't understand how I ended up there while the other half is what signed me in and made me feel like I finally belonged. Although many, many events led up to me signing myself into a psych ward, most of which make me sound totally normal but susceptible to incredibly bad luck, I still think a part of me really needed to be in a psych ward. My whole life I felt different from other people. I would be contemplating my place in the universe while my friends would worry about their first kiss. I remember one of my friends just told me to talk one time she said "yeah like you did that one time and it was really interesting." I felt so important then, like someone was listening and appreciated what I had to say. But things like that rarely happened and for the most part I felt like no one cared about the same grandiose things that I did.

So when I found myself face to face with a doctor that told me I had a disorder that sometimes manifested in depression and other times in rapid extraordinary thoughts, I just nodded thinking "finally, someone figured it out." I admited myself to a hospital earlier that day thinking that I was diabetic because I was drinking a ton of water and peeing a lot but felt hungry all the time. My blood sugar wasn't out of the norm enough to warrent a diagnosis of diabetes so they changed to a psych diagnosis. A doctor told me I would be transfered to a different floor because they thought I had some disorder or another. At first my mom cried, and I told her to. I told her to stop holding it in and to just let it out and cry. I wasn't sad, however. I remember calling my boyfriend at the time and telling him what happened. I don't remember what he said, but I think he told me that he would love me know matter what. I also told my aunt. She said that it didn't change who I was, which was one of the truest and best pieces of advice that someone could give at that moment.

So a nurse finally came and, wrapped in my hospital blanket, I walked to the third floor where psych evaluations took place.