Today’s my parents’ 22nd anniversary. I hear them from their room and they’re saying, “I wonder what life would be like if we…”. Im secretly aw’ing.
I don’t feel like I’ve had a good conversation in a long time. I miss sitting around with my best friends and asking each other questions about everything. We’d pick a rock in Central Park, a park bench in Queens, a swing in Brooklyn, a basement, a bed, wherever. Conversation was so easy for us. We had so many questions. We’d ask each other, “Do you feel like we’ll ever run out of things to talk about?”, and we’d never stop finding things to laugh or cry about.
I feel like there’s not much I can say lately. Not here.
I still have a lot of questions. I don’t even need answers. I need more questions.
I need to go somewhere with one person. Sit down. And talk for a couple of hours. About whatever. No defensiveness. No plans. Just a lot of time and talking. I’ve been craving actual human contact for too long. I may explode if I have to keep small-talking and calling it “friendship”.
I was on my tumblr and I was like, Lyndsey always has these fancy pictures of girls sitting on guys faces. Let me go look at them.
“
| — | My best friend |
I was in the car with two teenaged boys today
who are the same age as me
and I was telling a story
that involved the word “pad”
like the thing you bleed on when you have your period
and they didn’t know what I meant
so I had to explain
to two teenage boys
what a “pad” is
in heavy detail
and they both just got really quiet.
I don’t get why me bleeding out of my vagina
for a couple days a month
has to be that awkward tho
