You don’t know how blonde I am. Yes, I am aware I have black hair, although that’s up for debate since black hair is not a Thing That Exists. For a minute I went through a hair identity crisis and thought I was classified as a brunette. Funny, the person I had this conversation with is still in New York where I left him, but in a way, he’s no longer in my life. For now. Maybe this time he’s really gone forever. Maybe not. I wish I was the one being indecisive, but this is all on him. He’s probably blissfully unaware. Oh well. Not my problem.
I think it’s more of a problem for me being blonde on the inside than to worry about someone I lost in New York. What I lost in New York I can always get it back in someone else, right? At least in theory that’s how it works I guess. I’ve been doing a lot of guessing lately. And when there’s competition thrown in the mix, I usually back out and let the other ones win. I ain’t interested in being no second or third or fourth choice. I am interested in being someone’s first choice. That’s how I do. Everyone else just needs to chillax.
I chillaxed last night. 😉 In fact, doubled up on the chillaxing. More on that later. I think.
Haha, in tenth grade I failed a world history test on something I can’t remember what because I ran out of time to do the essay portion and just wrote, “I think.” I should have ended the sentence with “therefore I am” and left it at that.
Failing is something that makes my face burn. And the word “burn” reminds me of Jenny Han. She has a book out with that in the title. Alas, I will never get to read every single book I want to read. I have so many just on YA alone. Then there are others in other genres. I could spend a whole lifetime reading every single book in existence and it wouldn’t be enough time. There is never enough time.
Life runs out like sand in an hourglass.