I had been writing an ode to Victoria but I never got around to finish it… and plus it was all mushy.
This morning Victoria wiped blood off of my forehead when I woke up with her finger. If that doesn’t show the severity of our friendship, I don’t know what will.
I really don’t like wasting my time putting up with people in their forties who are acting like CHILDREN. It is so immature and ignorant to lash out at people via Facebook status. It’s immature and ignorant for any age, but ESPECIALLY if you’re in your FORTIES. Jesus Christ.
Okay guys…. I am seriously contemplating skipping my Friday classes and coming home tomorrow night. I KNOW I SHOULDN’T, BUT GUYS… PERSUADE ME I SHOULD. And tell me I won’t feel guilty. I WANNA COME HOME HOME HOME.
Yesterday I saw my house mom, Mrs. Becky, for the first time since her husband passed away. He died at 5:30 in the morning on Monday. When I saw Mrs. Becky, I switched paths and walked in her direction and gave her an unusually long hug. It’s incredibly hard to find the right words to say in that situation. I didn’t want to bring up her husband (who she had been married to four 42 years). Luckily, she was able to bring it up. She said it was the first time she had been by herself since he passed and told me that it was hardest at night and in the morning. I searched my brain quickly for something consoling to say, but there really isn’t anything perfectly appropriate to say in that situation. I left her feeling completely drained and upset. Can you imagine being with someone for such a long time and then they are completely gone. They aren’t coming back. Ever. Knowing it is so set in stone scares me. I’m really surprised at how well Mrs. Becky seems to be doing, though. Wittel is scarying me. That is the third death that has involved someone in that dorm this semester. Recently, the girl that lives across from me had a grandmother pass away and a girl down stairs had a mother pass away. It’s so saddening.
Last night Gage, Andrew, and I were looking at pictures of me from the eighth grade. Gage so kindly informed me that I used to have a mustache. But I didn’t get too upset because he had just finished letting me make him pretty. I had to explain to him that my ladies had to train me to be beautiful. And I told him that he would have to meet all of them and get to know them.
Ladies, thanks for training me to be beautiful. I talk so highly of all you guys. I sure did last night.