I reckon I'm going to pop a St John's Wart or two on my way out of the house. I just need some quiet moments of sanity before plunging myself into the crowd. I asked Nat once, "Why the hell am I so nice?!"
I'm just hoping thedude's in a quiet-balm-to-my-nerves mood. Bleah. Oh yes, I need to bitch.
I need a breather.
And I need to get my act together about school - like an emergency sewing session before all the seams fray. I'm somewhat happy though...by now I'd be breaking down to impermanent tears but I still feel pretty strong, albeit resigned.
You're a song
Written by the hands of god
Don't get me wrong
This might sound to you a bit odd
But you own the place
Where all my thoughts go hiding
And right under your clothes
Is where I find them
Underneath your clothes
There's an endless story
There's the man I chose
There's my territory
And all the things I deserve
For being such a good girl honey
Because of you
I forgot the smart ways to lie
Because of you
I'm running out of reasons to cry
When the friends are gone
When the party's over
We will still belong to each other
-- Shakira's Underneath your clothes
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