Why isn't giving up an option anymore? Why is wanting the ever-option? And being hopeful to the point where it hurts you more than depression does?
In the words of John Mayer, "I'm tired of being alone, so hurry up and get here."
I just realized that I haven't taken any pictures with a certain new buddy of mine, nor have I yet to take a second picture with the root of my joy and pain. This should be amended quickly.
I need to bring my A game back on. Fall semester is almost at an end and I find myself way behind, GET 'ER DONE!, as my lovely savage Kevin would say. And he's absolutely correct. I need to get it all done, somehow. I need to not fail because failure is awful.
But what isn't awful is the thought of this semester being done and saying goodbye to craziness. Yet I must welcome the new semester of craziness too, but maybe, perhaps I have learned something from this semester so that next semester will be a little better. I said a LITTLE better. So I'm being realistic and hopeful.
I want a good cuddle. And a baby. And my baby's daddy.. minus the baby. (I got it right this time lady.)