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And we hung like space stations and rocketships. And dreamed like we were things of the sky. We dressed like kings and queens and lovers.
08.28.2004 | 9:57 pm So in continuation of yesterday ... I did go to the football game with Brittany. She picked me up at the funeral home. I went in for a total of 15 minutes & spent the rest sitting in the truck, half naked, spazzing out on the telephone. Not about the death. Just about ... nothing. Unimportant things. I mostly hung out with Toni & excerpts of her crew. I conversed with Clanton about things of the male persuasion & he's single. Toni ate 75% of all my food. I was asked at least 12 times if I had cigarettes, which I did not. (I don't carry them with me to football games, because it's illegal * blah blah blah.) I had fun. It was nice talking to people again. I came home & chatted with James. He makes me uber happy. Since this is a diary & it's meant for confessions, I have one to make. When I first kissed James, I got a "feeling." I never got a feeling when I first kissed Justin. I got a thought. Feelings fucking terrify me. What if I get hurt? I want to convince myself that he won't hurt me & so far, he's said & done everything ... perfectly. Too perfectly. He ditched band practice for me. Gave me 110% of his attention. Was willing to drive 45 minutes from Meehan to pick me up, take me to Meridian, and bring me home. He respected my opinion. And to sum it all up, I feel completely comfortable around him. And goddamn, he's intelligent, we dig the same genre of movies, music, and he reads ... for pleasure! He's Miranda's dream man. Give or take a few drugs & freckles. I was supposed to spend the night with Brittany tonight. I was dropped off at her house around 12 & we hung out for a while. She wanted to go to her cousin's house, so away we went. There we fell asleep for a decent 3 hours & christ, when I woke up my stomach was killing me, literally. So, what did I do? I played Yoshi's Island, until Brittany woke up. She walked home & I wobbled home, collapsed on the couch, & called my mom to see what she wanted me to do. She said she would bring me some Loratab & Naproxin or whatnot & send me on my merry way, or I could come home, snuggle under covers, and take a nap. I chose the nap, because I'm Miranda. Before I came home, I ate cakes & pie & fried chicken at my grandpa's house, got attacked by an angelic kitty, & passed out on this awesomely retro red sofa. Now I'm home. So, I would have probably been better off watching idiots get trampled on by bulls. At least then I could have possibly gotten to see Mr. Carll. He induces smiling. I am so goddamn tired of everyone asking me if I'm okay! So, here -- this is my semipublic statement. I'm fine. Perfectly. Never been better. Despite my bitching & moaning in here, which I think is relatively light bitching & moaning compared to some people. I try to keep my problems to a mild minimum, but when everything either leaves you or dies, or threatens to leave you -- you start to get a little uneasy. But, yes, I am fine. I'm not going to run off and mutilate myself or hang myself from an oak tree. I have way more respect for myself than that. Nope, I correct myself, I don't. But I don't want to die right now. Drink myself into a stupor, very much so & this will be accomplished as soon as Damien sobers up & realizes there's no hope for me, or him, or anyone else. Goddamn, I'm being morbid. Shut me up.
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