My brilliant thoughts are so fleeting. I don't carry around a notebook anymore for poetic purposes. Just science. I can't seem to reconcile the 2. There's nothing creative to say about bowel resections and bacteria. Oh what a fun mealtime conversationalist I've become.
I'll be 26 next month. When I was little, 8 or so, I had always envisioned myself blond and with children at this point. I never wanted to be blond though, and I don't feel all that maternal, except around the fluffy Bichon. School is my baby. I can't leave it behind on a whim and go exploring anymore. I want to have more fun nights like the one with A!, L, S, and the dude N last week. I want to go on a road trip and camp and hike and rob banks and shit.
Oh well. We can't all be cowboys.
1 comment:
I'll be your fluffy Bichon, Oye.
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