at this juncture.

i feel like i'm never going to get packed. i've already packed up a lot of stuff, but it feels like the stuff is neverending. in about three days, i'll be panicking and throwing everything away or throwing it all randomly into boxes and garbage bags. my dad will be telling me, "i told you waiting til the last minute to pack was a bad idea." i'll be crying and having shortness of breath and gastrointestinal problems. it'll be an awesome farewell.

on the plus side though, i've been having such a great time in the company of lovely individuals whom i am proud to call my friends. i'm carpe-ing the diem and making the most out of my last days here. and if that means i spend my last few days freaking out and throwing everything i own in the garbage, then that's what that means. stuff is replaceable. these memories are not, and if i do not make them, i will not have them.

the things i will have to leave behind though... mostly furniture, but for some reason feels like giving memories away. giving the green foldy chair to the goodwill guy felt like handing over my memory of watching movies with leah and john sophomore year. my prom dress from senior year... i can't even fit into that thing anymore, but i don't want to give it up.

but it's the time to move on. things change, and i'm trying not to be frightened of it. i'm excited by it, but daunted. there are swells and snatches of emotions i catch during the day, whether it's brought on by mere contemplation or by a chord change in a song, or a line in a poem, or a stranger i see. sometimes i feel uncontrollably joyous, and sometimes i feel completely overwhelmed, like i'm being sucked into the undertow and i can't find which way is up.

but hell. as long as i'm here and you're here, i don't really care. no one's taking away my birthday, and we're well on our way to a good time.

i should be emotional.

I just dumped my pot pie on the floor. In slow motion, I watched as my hands somehow flipped the plate over, watched my potpie land facedown on the kitchen floor and then bounce, watched the pot pie goodness explode all over the place. The first words out of my mouth: "Shut up." And then, after a nice 45 seconds of staring dejectedly at the remains: "How the hell do I clean *this* up?"

With how things have been going lately, I'm surprised I wasn't hysterical and sobbing as I paper toweled up my pot pie's innards. But it's good that I'm not. It's about time I moved on from Hormone Town.

But I am hungry and have only half a pot pie to eat.

hormones are friggin AWESOME.

seriously. once a month, i get extremely irritable, want to shake my SO and possibly leave, and cry hysterically over things i wouldn't normally. honestly, i should be medicated probably.

i should probably go to sleep, but i'm trying to exorcise all this crap out of me. i'm listening to crappy music and beautiful music and trying not to think about moving and remembering why i love my SO and trying not to feel my heart falling into my stomach.

really. medicated. somebody sedate me.