Mark just left to go home. Normally he stays and I like that. We sleep like two old people or just two high schoolers who've never been with anyone before. Or just people who don't care. We sleep in the same bed but strictly platonic without even the slightest bit of romanticism. Maybe I'm not his type? Maybe he's not mine. I'm leaving soon, so things aren't going to last. I don't want them to last. Maybe he's just protecting himself, like guys do around me.
I feel like a part of me has changed. Maybe that's why people call me fickle. I don't think I like him the same as I first did. Maybe I just get tired of people. Get sick of people? Grow old of them? Is that the case? Fuck, I've got horrible friend-keeping skills. Or maybe I really do have a gypsy soul and I just need to be going from place to place. I could see that.
I don't want to leave Great Britain. Actually I'm quite fond of its charm. But when Kate Sculley (Shanna's friend on skype from Caz) asked what I liked the best I couldn't really openly respond. Do I know? All I know is I feel comfortable here and good. Is that good enough? I don't miss my family, really. And I don't miss my friends. I could do without both. I realize I can't officially live on my own and would probably be missing the securities I took for granted when I was home, if I lived here by myself. But as far as being homesick, I don't think I've had a good spell to knock me on my ass and spring a leak in my eyes. Maybe I just don't belong.
I colored my hair purple. I got my septum pierced. Am I happy? I don't really know. And I know I'm the only person that can be in control of that. Maybe I'm ready to start my life now, at least in my head. I am not ready financially. I think the responsibility of it would be too overwhelming for me at this point in my life, but I think I could get through it. I would be a wreck and hate life, but I would learn. Isn't that what life is all about...learning?
This is a horribly wretched sappy blog entry. I'm in a funk. A mood. And I can't stop eating. Maybe I'm creatively drained. Sometimes I don't think people understand me fully. But then I think that I don't know myself perfectly either, so maybe it's a fair deal. Get to know yourself, Caroline, and others will too. Get comfortable with yourself. Find out what you want and go do it!
I often wonder if people think I'm fake. I hope they don't. I don't think I am. I just don't know what I want to do and am searching. I think I'm an artist and I think I'm good at it. I don't think people can handle the obscurity I toss out at them sometimes. Maybe I'm too much for myself sometimes.
I watched a drunk video of me singing to Free Bird and it made me want to stop drinking. It was by no means bad, just slightly embarrassing on my part. I'm an emotional, loud drunk. So I suppose I'm glad I'm not the mean angry drunk or the strip everything off slut drunk. I love drinking, I just need to contain myself better. I think being in an altered state of mind by substances that aren't natural for body in large consumptions bring something inside of you that would normally be kept locked away. Maybe that was bullshit. I don't know....
England has been a trip for me...and I'm not ready to go home and resume the life I had before. Is that bad? Maybe I'm being irrational, maybe I'm just being Caroline, I don't know.
Someday I'll figure things out. And it'll be better.
After I wrote that post I went scanning through LOOKBOOK.nu. My addiction thanks to Shanna. I found this photo and became quite fond of it.
No comments:
Post a Comment