The Tastiest Fundraiser Ever

You like to help people. You like eating ice cream. You want to escape from campus and finals preparation.
You know at least one of these is true. So, Read this!!


Thursday, November 30th
7-10pm

Ben & Jerry’s will donate
20% of all sales
To the ALA

Ben & Jerry’s is on the Delmar Loop at
6380 Delmar Blvd
University City, MO 36130
(Just West of the Tivoli Theatre)

Check out the Facebook event page at
This Cool Link Here


For more information please contact us in one of the following ways:

Website:
AltLife.wustl.edu

E-Mail:
AltLife@sugroups.wustl.edu

AIM: WashUAltLife

Balls of Fluff and Silence

Monday, November 20
Location: Wal-Mart

Row upon row of balls of fluff. Twisted fibers wrapped around themselves and appearing in every color imaginable. They are given names like Berry, Midnight, Barely Pink, and Garnet. The final choice, however, comes down to touch. Only the softest will do for this project. Baby Clouds


Tuesday, November 21
Location: WashU

The other students slowly sift away, returning to their respective homes, families, and celebrations. She feels for a moment as if she has been left behind, forgotten. She sits on the edge of her bed and listens intently to the growing silence, her beloved teddy bear held close.



I go home tomorrow morning. Yay!

Image Dump

First a little life business, then the images.

Ok, so, some of you may remember the mention of an unnamed freshman guy I said I had "acquired" in early September. I actually deleted the only post in which I mentioned him (for an unrelated reason), so even a semi-frequent reader may have missed it.

I saw it as a very temporary situation, perhaps a rebound after my last break-up. I was surprised as all hell when he got my number off of FB and called me after our first night together. And even after that, you know, I ordered the kid around, treated him with a tad bit of disdain (so shoot me, it was therapeutic, dammit); hell, I figured he'd get fed up and stop coming back. Now, getting close to three months later, I guess that's not entirely the case.

Don't get the wrong idea. It's still very much a casual thing. It's just... not a nothing thing anymore.

The point is, his name is Brendan. I just figured he deserved to be named here on the BcL, you know? So there it is.


Tuesday, November 14
Location: Olin Library

Dammit, I can't remember his name. I can see him, sitting there in the Ruby computer lab that night I finally asked what his name was. He told me and I swear I intended to remember. I can remember the length of his hair, the place he was sitting in the room, the look of the laptop he was working on alongside me at 1 or 2 in the morning and yet for all of that...

I smile and enjoy the conversation. And I laugh, while a seed of guilt sits heavily in my stomach.


Wednesday, November 15
Location: Hurd 44 Balcony

Laptop open and abandoned behind me, I step out into the wind. I shiver and shake as the frigid air lifts my curls and freezes my fingertips. I will go inside soon, back to the warmth and a half-written paper, but for now, I am flying.


Thursday, November 16
Location: Hurd Kitchen

The smell of apples, all spice, and chocolate chips blends and makes its way up the staircase. It's times like these that I love college, that I love life. It's so amazingly simple, and the pleasure I get from it flies in the face of the somewhat habitually cynical attitudes I indulge in.

I take a sip of hot cider and this, too, melts away.


Friday, November 17
Location: Performing Arts Department Lounge

Dada theatre. Nonsense words. Adore. Randomality. Stage. Protest. War. Shit. Circus. Screams and laughs and an epiphany or two. We plan, play and let go of convention. We are liberated.

Lamplighters.


Saturday, November 18
Location: Hurd 442

We stood in the middle of the room, lit by stained-glass light bulbs and the glowstick still hanging around my neck. It seems so tacky in retrospect. So... college. But in the moment, it didn't bother me. We'd left the oppressive crowd behind and had found our own evening entertainment. Something that thankfully didn't involve fighting for room to breath.

I closed my eyes and leaned against him, losing myself in the warmth of his touch.
This was what the night was all about, the very reason he'd even agreed to step foot into Lopata Gallery. An exchange.


Sunday, November 19
Location: Grass outside Hurd

Searching, flashlight in hand. Please please PLEASE let it be here. We comb the area as much as we can stand, hoping for luck or a tiny miracle. Hoping to see the glint of a key hiding in the darkness between dead leaves and blades of grass. But alas, the universe fails us and hope is somewhat lost. Tomorrow, I tell myself. All I can do is count on tomorrow.


I'm not nearly as happy with these as I have been with some of my others. Bleh...

Catch Up

Friday, November 10
Location: Meredith Rettner's B-Day on U Drive

I dance and I flit about (if such a thing is even possible) and I just don't care so much anymore. I don't care so much if I look foolish. I don't care so much if their smiles are only a facade of polite civility. I'm having fun and I have true friends close by.

The release was something I could feel through my whole being, as if weights had been removed from each of my limbs and from my mind most of all. I felt physically lighter, freed from bonds that usually keep me tied to a very aware and constrained self.

Saturday, November 11
Location: Bauhaus, Givens

I don't know why I'm here. Because I said I would be? How lame. But here I am all the same, standing on the edge of a crowd I just can't stand to be a part of anymore. It's too much: the heat, body against occasionally unwilling body, as the bass pulses within my veins.

As I search for familiar faces, the lights and colors swirl and my stomach turns. I'd rather be at home.

Sunday, November 12
Location: Eliot, This Past Summer

That morning around six or so, I woke up and got out of bed, unwilling to sleep away the last hours we had together. I put on some piano music, Moonlight Sonata, and sat at my desk for some time, watching him as he slept. I think I loved him in that moment, as he lay there between my sheets.

I suppose I had hoped he'd open his eyes, find me sitting there, and invite me back to bed in a voice that would say "I just want to be close to you. More than anything, I just want one more hour wrapped in your arms." But he never said such a thing. Perhaps he did open his eyes and look at me once, though it's hard to tell if I'm remembering that right, but if he did, he never spoke a word.

Monday, November 13
Location: My Head

I tossed and turned on every third quarter hour, determined to regain some lost sleep. Each time I would turn, I would be somewhat aware that I was in bed, that I still clutched my cell phone in my left hand, and that I would need to head off to the library some time soon. Yet, simultaneously, a dream logic seemed to rule over these points and make them hazy.

There was some reason that I wasn't leaving my room. I had to stay there because of a radio broadcast. I couldn't go now; it was important that I stay and voice my role.

They were calling me back into the shower with them as steam rose in curls and their naked bodies glistened invitingly. Come back to where it's warm.

She needed to talk to me and it couldn't wait. I was supposed to have taken care of all this already. Stupid girl, don't you plan ahead? You've got to keep on top of these things.

And so it continued as hours passed and the world grew dark outside my window.

Just So You Know

Let me tell you. I'm tired as all hell. My feet hurt like crazy from the shoes I wore today/tonight and spent hours dancing in. I'm freaking dehydrated as f*ck. But you know what?

Life...

Life, my dear friends,

Is good.



For some reason, party-hopping with friends tends to lead me to this conclusion. And it is good.
Except... I kinda gave my number to an awkward sketchy guy. Huh... I wonder if I can get away with telling him that I'm considering being a lesbian... Worth a shot.

Location: Hurd, Suite 44, Balcony

Like pyromaniacs to a flame, we flock toward the sounds of music and partying. I, too, feel the pull from my perch a couple floors or so up. I want to go down. Consider going. But I stay on my balcony, steadfast. Plenty of time for that this weekend, I think to myself, a half-hearted smile on my face. I head back through the sliding glass doors and towards my room, allowing the tantalizing beat to fade and be forgotten.

::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::-::

Come See Thyrsus's Radio Plays This Weekend!!

Village Theatre
Fri & Sat @ 8PM
Sun @ 7PM

Tickets are $5 at the door or in Mallinckrodt.

Two authentic 1940's radio plays will be performed and recorded for later broadcasting on KWUR. It's HILARIOUS, trust me.
I play the voice of Tommy, a young boy who's mother "can't love him," and Miss Todd, his social worker. Check out the FB event page here.

Location: An Armchair Near a Window at Starbucks

The sun returned today to shine down on us and put a new spring in our step. I sit nursing my grande maple frappuchino and see things as I've failed to see them for some time now. It is as if the sun has given the air a crystal-clear quality, allowing me to see the life and activity that was previously veiled by an overcast sky.

/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~
So, evidently I'm going to Bauhaus this weekend. Are you gonna be there??

/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~\/~
My next story for fiction writing seems to involve a telepathic nine year old boy who's been the subject of laboratory experiments since he was four and no longer actively remembers the outside world EXCEPT that there is something inside of him that remembers and manifests itself as another little boy that only my character can see/hear. I only came up with that last night (after sitting around for an hour or two, unable to come up with anything compelling) and I have almost no idea where I'm going with it, but there you go.

My first story was about a young woman, a college junior, who cheats on her girlfriend, who, by the way, graduated from the same college in the spring before my story takes place and now lives in another city. Distance is harsh. If that's not bad enough, she cheats on her girlfriend with a man, ends up having drunken unprotected sex, and is worried that she might now be pregnant. The girlfriend shows up the very day that my character has bought a pregnancy test to confirm or deny her fears. Ooh, the drama.

Image of the Day

The vibrant reds and yellows will fade, leaving only a dead brown. I see it starting now, as we move through fall, waiting to stumble upon winter, when all is laid bare in the renewal that will one day become spring. It seems that we can never settle properly into one season before the next catches up with us.


<-><-><-><-><-><-><-><-><-><-><-><-><-><->


And now for something completely different!

Quote for the day from Lori to me:
"How are you NOT a heathen?!"

That's all there is.
There isn't (2 beats) anymore.

Image Journal

My fiction writing professor had us start image journals. Every Day we have to record an image, starting October 27, through the end of the semester.

I figure I would post my images here, so here's what I've got so far. Be warned that these are spur-of-the-moment sorts of things and may or may not suck (which is kind of like my blog in general, so yay).

Friday, October 27
A single feather falls from the shadows where I know the red curtain to be hiding, waiting for its moment to shine once more, telling everyone the show's over. Elegance in its velvety folds. I watch the feather as it drifts slowly to the stage floor, a soft white against the browns and yellows that have been brushed so carefully across the floor.

Saturday, October 28
My mother smiles for the pictures, her face wrinkling in all the places I know she hates. The corners of her eyes. The corners of her mouth. And of course, her eyes are almost lost in heavy lids and full cheeks. She will hate the picture. She always hates the pictures.

Sunday, October 29
I approach the mirror, knowing what I will find, but fascinated all the same. Red eyes, cheeks flushed, and a shiny trail from the single tear I'd let fall. I trace the trail with my eyes, my face now smooth, observing. I lick my lips, tasting the salt, and meet my own gaze in the mirror, reddened eye to reddened eye. I think for a second of reaching out to the lonely girl I've found there, but I know I'll only find cold glass at my fingertips.

Monday, October 30
I can't even breathe in moments like this. I see him and I'm automatically so conflicted. A moment's glance or a painfully awkward smile that wrinkles his face and makes me despise him that much more.
I want to hate him.
Nothing good will come of this.
He passes and I look away as if his existence isn't worth noticing. But I turn and stare him down once his back is to me, caught in an inability to just forget, to not take noticed. I revel in the passion of something close to hate for a moment or two, but as my heart slows, I can only feel the regrets, deep and murky, polluting the clear air and sky around me.

Tuesday, October 31
Crisp white against the clear blue of a chilly fall morning. The sky calls to happier days of carefree play and I smile at the memories. The wind blows and I wrap my arms around myself. Close. Tight.

Wednesday, November 1
My eyes open and darkness surrounds me. I suddenly realize where I am. Realize I ought to be home. As my heart pounds with the anxiety of a college student who's academic career suddenly seems at stake, I sit up straight. Why didn't he wake me? I have homework to do, things I was supposed to get done. I glance at the clock. Too late. I'm stuck for the night.

Thursday, November 2
I see the disappointment in her face as it slackens and hangs in that melancholy way. She is disappointed in herself, which I know is the hardest thing. I tell her it's not so bad, assure her that she's overreacting, but as I pull out of our hug, I see the tears glistening in her eyes and can see how hard she's trying to keep her cool. I'm helpless and so I offer another hug, knowing it makes little difference.

Friday, November 3
It's odd to observe campus life just prior to and during between-class breaks. There's this magnificent peace that settles for a time, as an occasional tour passes with shuffling feet, and the majority of students are stuck within the confines of their respective classes.
Seemingly at once, a new chaos is birthed and our beloved grounds are flooded with humanity. They chatter and rush about, making plans for lunch, for dinner, for the weekend. And at least one of these tends to involve sex or alcohol or some combination of the two.
I sit passively by, resenting them for intruding on my solitary world of nature and internal monologue. And yet... they are interesting to watch and observe.
Of course, the disappointing part comes when I realize that I'm of the same kind and just another among the crowd.

Saturday, November 4
I know it's over and I know I must let him go for the night, allowing him to return to his room, where I'm sure he'll hop on WoW and play for a few hours before he gives in to sleep. I'm always drawn to gamers. This occurs to me as I steal one last kiss and send him on his way. As he passes through the doorway, I return to my bed and consider him. I'm slightly put off by the very existence of this game and by its influence on this guy who I'd prefer to be under my influence.
Perhaps he's more trouble than he's worth.
I know I don't believe that, but I keep the thought in my mind as a safeguard against romanticizing our relationship. Lord knows I don't need that again. Not right now. Not this guy.

Sunday, November 5
I sit and am silent as conversation passes across and through my person. My companions attempt to include me, asking me questions, prompting me to throw in my two cents, and though I reply to all of this, I still remain quiet, observing. I hope they are not put off by this, as I've found so many are, but I am simply inclined to observe. I listen as they speak, taking interest and filing away bits of information for later use. I am a pair of ears and an attentive mind, speaking only when I actually have something to say. Novel concept, huh?

Monday, November 6
The world slips in and out of focus as my head throbs dully and begs me to go to sleep. Two hours simply is not enough. It's practically screaming at me. But there are things to be done.

Notes For The Day

My most recent ex is still an ass and I still cannot fully overlook his actions (no matter how he justifies himself and perhaps becasue of the way he justifies himself), but I will be civil and I will be nice and I will try to make things work to whatever degree possible.

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Communication is key. A note for all my sisters.

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There is a girl who lives in the room that has a window directly across from mine that seems to like walking around in a semi- or fully naked state with the blinds open.

Um....

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Fiddler is going well and still has one more weekend of shows left. Buy your tickets before they sell out.

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There are giant holes on campus. This makes me unhappy.

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I want to sleep more.

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I want to put life on pause.

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I've developed a rain cloud over my head that keeps blotting out the sun.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

I love my parents. Lots.

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And that's pretty much it for now.
Live well.

Elements of the Past

I found this when sifting through my old MySpace blogs. This is from over a year ago and it's so weird to read it now and think about how important it all seemed and how much I really felt the things I had written. Now it's almost as if it all happened to someone else, as if I'd only read about it in a book.


Thursday, July 07, 2005


A Lonely Tear


I breathe your name into the northerly winds,

and though the sound is stolen from my lips,

I fret not.



For I know that same wind

will caress your very face this night as you lie out under the stars,

contemplating your escape.



And so my heart will reach out to yours

in those shared stars

and in that northerly wind,

and when a lonely tear falls from your eye,

it will be my hand that brushes it away

and my voice that calms your torrential emotions.



For I am yours and you are mine.



And though it may appear

we have been ripped apart,

the truth of our souls shall disprove it.



We are one in the very core of our beings.

One will never exist without the other.



So it has been since before time first ticked,

and so it shall be until all things are ended.

And so it shall be.

Playlist and Random Post-Script

I think I'm going to try and put up a monthly playlist. That is, songs that I have been listening to a lot within the preceding month. So yay; here's October. (Title ~ Artist ~ Album)

1. Cool Blue Reason ~ Cake ~ Prolonging the Magic
2. Pop Song 89 ~ Motion City Soundtrack ~ Punk Goes 80's
3. Happy Endings ~ The All-American Rejects ~ The All-American Rejects
4. I Melt With You ~ SUGARCULT ~ Punk Goes 80's
5. Such Great Heights (Remix by John Tejada) ~ The Postal Service ~ The District Sleeps Alone Tonight - EP
6. The Power of Love ~ Huey Lewis & The News ~ Greatest Hits: Huey Lewis & the News
7. Let's Pretend ~ No Fi Soul Rebellion ~ Let's Pretend - Single
8. Holding Out for a Hero ~ Frou Frou ~ Shrek 2 (Soundtrack from the Motion Picture)
9. Video Killed the Radio Star ~ The Buggles ~The Age of Plastic
10. I Melt With You ~ Bowling for Soup ~ Bowling for Soup Goes to the Movies
11. Why Worry ~ The All-American Rejects ~ The All-American Rejects
12. You Spin Me Round ~ Dead or Alive ~ Evolution: the Hits
13. Your Love ~ The Outfield ~ The Outfield: Super Hits
14. Invisible Monsters ~ Motion City Soundtrack ~ Commit This to Memory (Deluxe Edition)
15. Underwater ~ Switchfoot ~ The Legend of Chin
16. Nothing Better (Styrofoam Remix) ~ The Postal Service ~ We Will Become Silhouettes - EP
17. Forever Young ~ Rod Stewart ~ The Very Best of Rod Stewart
18. You Spin Me Round (Radio Version) ~ Dandoo ~ You Spin Me Round - EP
19. I Melt with You ~ Modern English ~ The Best of '80s Pop: Party Songs
20. 99 Red Balloons ~ Siobhan DuVall ~ STAR
21. Modern Chemistry ~ Motion City Soundtrack ~ I Am The Movie
22. Power of Love ~ The Early November ~ Punk Goes 80's
23. Resolution ~ Motion City Soundtrack ~ Commit This to Memory
24. 99 Luftballons ~ Stefanie Praytor ~ Sugar Storm
25. Gotta Have You ~ The Weepies ~ Say I Am You

I might never do this again... but we'll see.

So yes, the post-script:
My name does not, in fact, by virtue of its spelling, reference any form of precipitation. If anything, it references mysticism or some such. So there.

how I'm doing

How am I doing, you ask??

I just spent about 28 out of the last 48 hours in a theatre doing tech for Fiddler on the Roof.

How do you think I'm doing?

I'm so stressed out right now it's not even f*cking funny.

Just need to survive this week... and keep breathing. Breathing is good.

Thoughts on Sunday, October 15

On Charlotte
First, I laugh at the heading.
^_^
Ok, I'm done.
Second, I met Charlotte Friday night at TKE. She seems cool and I give her two thumbs up. I do, however, feel a little embarrassed that I shamelessly made out with her in the middle of the TKE dance floor... with three of my Mu Phi Gamma sisters not but a foot or so away... It was tasteless on my part, and I apologize. Oy...
But at least I had a good time...?
Oh yeah! And she plays guitar, so she gets an automatic 20 points. Like, fucking hell, that's hot. That's assuming, of course, that she plays well; I only know that she plays.

On The Autism Walk
I got out of bed at 8 o'clock on Saturday, braved the 40 degree weather, and participated in the Autism Walk with four other Mu Phi Gammas. There was plenty of free food and drink and it was charitable, so it's good.
The best part of the walk, however was when one of my MPG sisters, Beth, posed the following question, "If there's drunk and not-drunk = sober, then what's not-high? Cause you can't say clean, cause then people think you've recently bathed, or that you haven't gotten a venereal disease in the last two months. So how do I describe the situation for where I'm drunk, with a venereal disease, but not high??"

On MPG At Beta 4Square
We suck... and that's kinda all there is to it. Most members of our two teams had never even played 4square before, and one of our members has a broken foot. Maybe this should excuse our failure... maybe. Either way, both of our teams lost all three games each played today. Sadness.

On Writing
I used to be prolific writer, but now... I just can't for the life of me sit down and write a story. WTF? School has destroyed me.

On Wet Paint
I walked through the underpass on the way back from Beta 4Square at the AC and smelled the old familliar smell of wet paint. I quickly realized that the smell reminded me of high school (specifically of painting sets in the school theatre on Saturday). And it reminds me of my old friends, the drama group. That is to say, the group of people that always got cast in every show, those of us who hardly knew what to do with ourselves when, for the short time between shows, we didn't have rehearsal after school. I feel like it was all so much simpler then.
Hahaha. And all that from paint fumes!



I should try to work on my story before my MPG formal chapter meeting. Le sigh. Rock on, all.

a step finally taken

Text message after text message after text message and I just don't care anymore. Honestly, I don't care what she has to say, I don't care about what guy she's cheating on her husband with, I don't care that she thinks she's fallen in love with that guy, and I almost particularly don't care that she keeps telling me that she loves me, that she misses me, that she misses the days when she and I were a couple.

Well maybe if you hadn't kept leaving me for the next guy that came along to 'steal your heart away'...

She always came back. Always ended up needing me in one way or another. And I was always willing to take her back. Willing to convince myself that I wanted her back. And maybe it was true the first couple times or so... but at some point...

blah

I do feel a little bad, thinking that I've hurt her. But I'd just gotten so fed up with it over this last year and I had to be honest, had to do what I knew I needed to do.

This afternoon (never mind where the conversation began) I told her that I felt we had grown apart, told her I didn't like who she'd become, told her that basically our friendship (or whatever the hell it was) had been dying and I had no interest in saving it. Perhaps it's a bit harsh, but it's true.

It's a big step for me. I felt the slight tug at my heartstrings as she continued to send me messages, telling me she loved me, begging me not to "break her heart and shatter her world," swearing that she could change and make it right. And there it was, the impulse to comfort, my inclination to once more sacrifice a bit of myself for her sake. But I let it be.

I had let go of the idea of her long ago and finally, today, I was able to cut myself loose from her. Now I need only stand my ground.

I hope she finds her way... I just can't keep filling my old role; I don't have it in me to do anymore.

They Are Not Long

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,
Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
We pass the gate.

They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for awhile, then closes
Within a dream.

-Ernest Dowson (1867-1900)

random note

there's this girl in my film class who keeps catching my eye

I'm not sure what it is about her, but I keep noticing her. can't help but notice her.

I don't know anything about her, even her name, and I think I'll keep it that way


hm... I think it's kinda interesting that she's blonde when not but 7 months ago I'd have told you that blonde is not at all my thing. eh, tastes change.

The Greatest Gift

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing.

Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away.

When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.

And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

-1 Corinthians 13

Just Another Side

It comes to me in waves and I just get tired of people. Dealing with them, working around them, through them, saying and hearing things I know come by rote. Practice makes perfect and that one's a champ. It's all in the head, though our hearts attempt to lay claim on a corner or two. Meaningless air.

I get tired of being known. Recognized. And the one-sided hide-and-seek that goes on though I've simply grown weary of looking. Terrible, though, is my eyes still find old targets. Usually before I can even realize what I've seen.

Look away.
I'm not the one who started this game.

It would be better if not a one of them knew me.

But that's only this wave. With the next I'll feel differently again. Blessing or curse, I find myself forever in motion.

You know, it's still strange to me when people I know stop to ask me about what's going on in my life. I can never believe they could care so much as their words would suggest. It's the sentiment, and I'm unimpressed. Grease between the cogs of social mechanics... Well I'm about ready to drop the whole machine from the rooftop of Hurd.

I feel a little bad.

So often people ask me one of those grease questions, performing an act of social nicety, and too often all I can bring myself to is a non-committal answer and no thought to returning the question. I don't know if I'm apathetic only because I believe they truly are, or if I believe they're apathetic only because I truly am. One of these must be true.

Sometimes I pretend to care even when I don't. But I quickly grow weary of that. It's better to just walk away. It's better that I truly care.

And with that, my laundry's done.
Good night all.