An aspiring writer fascinated by what we simply are.
It’s a frigid and snowy day today, the exact kind of day I hate. Of course the one day of the week winter decides to show up is the one where I have the busiest schedule and, of course, the very people who where supposed to help me stayed home. It might be a good thing though. I’ve always preferred the solo projects.
I’m just being crabby because I haven’t been able to do anything much for me and I know that this weekend will be busy too and now that I think about it next Monday feels awfully close already. The days are growing drab and mundane and nothing feels all that important or worth the effort. Everything is exhausting. Everything is at best an irritation and at worst a waste.
Let the seasonal depression begin.
My stomach has been in knots all morning. I’m excited, and I’m also incredibly nervous. I always am before we see our friend, especially when there will be alcohol involved, which is every time we hang out with our friends. Social anxiety (no not just regular nervous but chest hurting, I think I’m going to throw up, maybe I should just stay home forever anxiety in advance of seeing some of my very best friends!) is killing me.
I’m trying to focus on the good. I know that I am well liked and even missed. I know people are excited to see me and that any social faux pas I commit and later agonize will probably go unnoticed by others.
The point is, I’m excited. The point is, this means a lot to me, these people mean a lot to me and I hope to have a good time.