I should be packing, but I don't want to. Packing means leaving, and I don't want to.
I can't go back. I can't fight my heart anymore. Where are my classes. Will I get them back. If I don't I'm throwing in the towel and coming home. Too frustrated for question marks.
I've found a thousand different things to do instead of packing & related tasks like laundering. A thousand different divertissements and a dozen justifications for each.
I showered twice today for the first time all year (although there have only been 23 days this year... but I probably didn't do that all of 2007 either). I did a pilates DVD... twice. I xangaed twice. I facebooked excessively. I read... everything. I thought about packing and verbalized how bad I am at doing it. I talked to... everyone. I took my mother to dinner. I censored a few blog posts here and made them public. Of course this involved sifting through my entire blog. I really don't know why I bother posting abridged versions of these posts on Xanga. Who do I really write for anyway. I napped, and if you know my sleeping habits these days, this one was definitely just an excuse not to pack.
This is the only paragraph of my post that does not start with "I." Me is my favorite subject, although I will never understand it correctly until I make God my foremost pursuit.
I don't want to go back. Oh please don't make me. Home-cooked meals and my overflowing closet were so nice. Safety and familiarity are so nice.
I guess I'll get packing.
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