too long; didn't read

November 25 2014

The past few months - who am I kidding – the past couple months have been hard on me. I could tell you why but I just need a break. A quick nap. Some time to sleep or a marathon of The Wire.

I’d love to read a book. I’m reading the Woodcutters right now. It’s great. Or it would be great if I had more time to read. I am graduating in six months. People ask me what I am doing after graduation. I should know. I am told that I really should know. But I have not a clue. I don’t think about it nearly as much as they seem to think I do. I only think about the future when I am reminded that I have one.

This isn’t meant to be some philosophical discussion. I am not particularly philosophical. That was one of the reasons my boyfriend broke up with me. I do not think about the deep questions in life. It’s only been a month. I am still bitter. I don’t miss him or at least I don’t feel as though my heart is broken. I think about him throughout the days. I think of Us. Or well, the Us that used to exist. I guess now we’re just him and me.

I cried in the park for two hours last week. Strangers stared and I made eye contact. They looked uncomfortable being caught with their curiosity. Why is this girl crying? More importantly why not? I am not ashamed to cry. I cry often. I like crying.

I am having a hard time.

I am an exceptional quitter. I am so good at quitting that I have given motivational speeches about quitting. My talent in quitting comes from the second grade when I quit football. The cold Saturday mornings and my shyness did not create an environment conducive for football stardom. My parents encouraged my talent.

As I’ve gotten older, quitting has gotten harder. Suddenly, I face responsibilities and feelings of “I signed up for this.” How do I quit? Can I quit? Turns out you can always quit. Most notably, I quit my summer internship a few months ago.

Quitting has no bearing on who I am. I may be a quitter but I am also pretty freakin’ awesome.

I forgive myself for crying in the park, for being sad, for being confused. In 21 years, I have not made many friends. The kinda friends where I think hey you! You human being, I like you, spend time with me. I forgive myself for not having made those friends.

I forgive myself for all the times that I have quit and all the times that I will in the future. I forgive myself for being broken up with.

I don’t have any particular advice as I am not very wise nor have I had something insane happen to me. I once found $100 on the sidewalk so I do have that going for me. Maybe life isn’t so bad.

Send me something. I promise I will read it. Maybe not immediately but probably immediately. It can be a sentence, a poem, or your 50,000-word harry potter fanfic.

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New York

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