Now I don’t feel that way when I see my mom, or my home… I don’t know why things like that are no longer really my source for comfort. My friends are. Seeing the comfort of their name calling me, especially when I’m feeling vulnerable, trying as hard as I can to be strong–I want nothing more than to hear their voice and hang out with them and laugh. They make me feel so happy.
Anyway, I just had a good, short little cry over the phone with McKenna and I feel a lot better (although I’m still holding a q-tip in my hand to absorb the tears before they fill the brim of my eyes beyond capacity, messing up my mascara.)
I got a haircut… my hairs cut… I leave for Camp tomorrow evening… I don’t have an appetite, I don’t feel like eating and I can’t wait to see my grandma.
I’m worried about my friend Wayne… he went to Japan at the beginning of the summer and was supposed to come home last week but no one’s heard from him. We don’t know where he is… last I heard from him, he was going to bike 130 km from Masuda over the mountains to Hiroshima. He was going to leave in a few days as of July 6th and the last time he logged into his Myspace was on the 8th. I don’t know any more than that but I hope I hope I hope he’s okay. Please, please. Please.
I feel better after writing. Home is so petty and trivial, I wish it didn’t have the power to stir me up like this…. now I’m going to go get a manicure and read the newspaper. Tata, darlings.