Tomorrow is September 19th.
I realized today that the last time I've been hugged was when I dropped my mom off at DFW and she flew back to Spokane, after coming to Denton and helping me get settled in. That was August 19th.
As of tomorrow, no one has hugged me in a month. This is not something I am used to. And I can't get that damn "4 hugs a day" song out of my head. The sad thing is, I am afraid that if someone did hug me, even a complete stranger, I would probably break down crying because I wouldn't be able to handle human touch.
Is it pathetic that I know the date of the last time I was hugged? I could easily pinpoint the date of the last time I was kissed too, but it would require me glancing at a calendar, and it's not worth the time.
I'm sick of pretending that I don't feel like I've been punched in the stomach. I have to keep being friendly. To be truthful in the situation sometimes seems selfish. But I doubt it would matter much in the long run. To anyone but me, that is.
There was the most incredible lightning tonight. When I got home tonight I stood in the dark behind my house and watched it for a while. Every thirty seconds or so, there wasn't a flash, but a slow drawing across the sky, like white hot blood through a vein (that's for Erin :-)), and I've never seen anything like it.
I have a decent outline. Now I just need to write the paper.
song: "Did I Step on Your Trumpet?" Danielson
yesterday // life goes on
