I don't feel right knowing that I won't see him for 5 weeks. This is going to be hard.

I miss him.

I wish that I had the courage to tell him how much he already means to me, how much I look forward to these nightly phone calls and weekend visits, and how much I wish I could look into his eyes and know that he's feeling the same way.

There is this mystery about him, this push-pull, take me-leave me dichotomy that is as enthralling as it is frustrating.

What I know is that I want him.

What I don't know, is if he wants me.

My house caught on fire...

...or at least, the oven did. Thank God I remembered that we had a fire extinguisher downstairs. It took about three hours to clean up, and we lost most of our kitchen stuff, but we're all safe. The fire dept came quickly, I didn't get put on hold by 911 dispatch, and our neighbors have stepped up big time to help us out. They bought us pizza, brought over vacuums and trashbags, and have offered us their shower to use for the next two days.

Long story short, there was a faulty gas line hooked up to the oven. This could have happened any time. I'm just glad we were home.

One of my roomies has mild smoke inhalation (she went back inside to get the parakeet out), and we are all pretty shaken. I'm sure one day I'll look back on this and chuckle, like one of those dumb college stories you tell your kids just after they graduate from high school.

I can't even explain the smoke that was pouring out of the house and how scared I was that we'd lose everything. There is NOTHING more frightening than seeing flames.

Anyway, here are some pics:

This is the oven. Obviously. The flames were shooting out from that bottom drawer. I left the house right after, but I think they were coming out through the burners too, because the top part of the stove is also scorched. The guy standing to the left is from the gas company. He turned off our gas until we can get someone out here to fix whatever is wrong with the hose.







Most of this is from the fire extinguisher. But a good bit of it is soot from all the smoke. Most of it's gone, and one of the neighbors brought over an air filter so we don't breath in the stuff too much.

Why I can never be enough.

"I wouldn't expect you to want to eat dinner with us anyway."

or

"Just go home. It's clear you don't want this to be your home anymore."

or

"You are too absorbed in yourself and your own life to think to call us every once in a while."

...I think that one hurts the most.

If he knew me, REALLY knew me, I would hope that he would see that I am more than that. Am I really projecting those images out there, for the world to see and judge me upon?

I hate these long strings of emo posts. This isn't me either. This whole blog isn't me.

What the FUCK is me, then? I'm not this, that, the other, anything.

I want the people who are supposed to accept me unconditionally to do just that. I'm not perfect. I'm not even a great sister or daughter. But I'm trying to be enough, as much as I can be

Oh John Mayer...

My quarter-life crisis has begun four years early.

It's as if I need to self-actualize all over again. So many things seem utterly pointless to me right now, things that I would have been excited about a year ago.

I can see how I'm becoming impossibly hard to be around. I don't blame anyone for being more excited to spend time with someone else besides me. Really, I get it.

...the truth is, I don't like spending time with myself either.