Hey cashier, what's your number?

I’m happy.

I’ve had a good week. It was spent nicely. I’ve done something that feels like it should be rather unlike me, but truthfully I’m not sure if it is? Before I go into detail of the matter I am speaking of, I want some context behind who I am. I’m an incredibly stubborn person with a huge guilt complex. I think that is my biggest weakness, is my feeling of guilt. I am probably the easiest person to make feel bad about something, I can and often do feel guilty about something I may not have actually done – for example, in school when an authoritative figure would come in because someone had done something bad, I always felt guilty as if I had done it. Maybe I had done it and blocked it out of my memory – and I often can’t say no to things and when I finally do, I feel bad about it. Guilt complex. I have it. Throughout high school, I refused to give in to the underage drinking that occurred. Mostly because I was afraid I would become an alcoholic, but mostly because it just became so apart of me that I thought I would be betraying myself if I did. When I finally did drink, I got way too drunk at the age of 17 and I swear to this day I was a drink away from alcohol poisoning. But for so long afterwards, if I ever drink (which I didn’t again until university) I would feel like I was betraying myself in some way. Swearing too much – betraying myself in some way. Having sex – betraying myself in some way. When I became religious, my guilt often related back to my morality as a Christian. Let me tell you, that made my guilt so much worse than it initially had been. It got to a point where I was slowly transitioning into a more spiritual, liberal Christian than the kind I had been becoming due to ignorance and a need for acceptance among what feels like a very extreme Christian club.

Anyway, am I rambling yet? Is this tangent still going to connect smoothly to my point?

The point is, a part of me still feels like there is a certain type of person that I should be. That if I am not her, I am betraying myself and doing wrong in some sort. It makes it sometimes to grow and change without feeling bad about it.

So here I am, in some sort of friends-with-benefits/seeing-each-other-very-openly-not-even-boyfriendgirlfriend-but-acting-like-it-sort-of/it’s-only-been-a-week-of-this relationship. At first, I thought maybe it would be a bad idea. That I wouldn’t be able to handle it and it would be awful. However, it became really easy. I’m incredibly comfortable with the person and I’m really happy with the situation. I don’t think it is going to become more than what it is right now and I’m strangely okay with that. I went on a date on Friday, which was horrible by the way, and then the next day I spent the night with him and had a lovely time. We joked around, we kissed, and we made dinner and cuddled and watched Twister and fell asleep. It’s all so simple. That is to say, I’m not sure if it will get complicated. I’m hoping it doesn’t, but for now I’m going to go with the flow. He’s going through his own transition of moving out and starting a new program at a new school. Tonight he thanked me for being there and it’s made it easier for him. I’m happy that I can be that person for him. For anonymity purposes, I’m going to call the boy J.

Speaking of my date, it was Friday. With the 32 year old. My word. I don’t know where to begin… I just. Apparently, according to J, I went in with a bad attitude and expected it to fail because I knew going in I would not be going on a second date. The thing is, he is 32. I realized by Friday I couldn’t pursue a 32 year old because the eleven year age gap was too much. So we went to a Chapters/Starbucks combination type place and each got a drink and wandered around. To put it nicely, I did not find our conversations stimulating. We talked about a various amount of things, including me rambling on about feminism and him telling me “I don’t really know much about feminism.” Which is… sort of not fine. If I’m going to date you, I need you to have a general idea of feminism and why it’s important. I also need you to not say things like “What happens if the boy taking the super drunk girl home is also drunk? Doesn’t it make it okay then?” I replied with “Is hitting someone with your car and killing them okay so long as they are drunk?”

To sum it up, I ended up buying two books (“It” by Alexa Chung and “Poems from the Typewriter” by Tyler Knott Gregson) and had more of an emotional connection and stimulating conversation with the cashier.

Haven’t been sleeping well the past few days, and last night because I’m not familiar and I need time to adjust to new places I didn’t sleep well either. I’m tired and my body is sore from sleeping at an awkward angle. Took a nap earlier because of how tired I was. Should go to sleep now. Sleeping in a nest made out of laundry I was too lazy to fold and pillows. Not complaining… it’s so comfortable.

Been anxiously avoiding anything to do with college. I’m scared, especially because I need to make a portfolio of artwork and I think that will be the reason I don’t get in. I don’t have a backup plan yet. Don’t really want to think about it because then I won’t sleep. I don’t know what to do.

Also need to start organizing tours to check out the schools.

It’ll be fine though, I’ll figure it out. 

Started a new story: 

It was in those moments before bed when you start thinking about scary things. Zombies, the monsters hiding under your bed and in the closet. The possibility of there being a giant spider looming over your head in the dark. Suddenly, you're on edge. The hairs on your arms are standing still and your sense are on full alert. Every sound you hear becomes threatening. 

I was having one of those nights. My father was on a business trip and my mother was at a work gala. I had rejoiced when I first found out I would have the house to myself. It's so relaxing and calming, I'm able to move freely without question and I can pee with the door open. 

But my over active imagination had to ruin it once I realized my plans of having a wild night of judge free junk food and movie night was going to be over at 10pm. I was exhausted and the thought of staying up late was too much. I had done it. I had aged a hundred years in a single night. My life would turn into some kind of TLC movie. 

By 10:21 I had completely freaked myself out. What had got me was thinking about the movie 'World war z' which further transgressed into thinking about how successful hiding on my roof during a zombie attack would be. My conclusion had been that I would probably not be successful. 

So, here I was. Suddenly convinced that every creak my house was making was a zombie or monster of some sort. By 12, I had calmed down but still couldn't sleep. By 12:03, there was a significant noise coming from the downstairs. My body tensed up in a split second, but calmed down when I realized it was my mom. 

Until I realized it wasn't my mom. And that the reality was that my house was being broken in to.