If I were to be truthfully honest--which I do try to be when I blog because I don't actually expect anyone to really read this, and it's more for me than anyone else anyway--I'd have to say that some things in my life just weird me out.
For instance: happy, smiley couples weird me out. Must they be SO happy ALL the time? Do they really need to rub it in the faces of us non-coupley people? Geez...
Mainly, what it weirding me out right now, is the fact that I don't feel weirded out that I'm moderately happy. I'm not overly stressed or worried about anything, I'm not searching my room in vain for something sharp and pointy (I think the best I'd manage would be my keys), and I'm not pining after one of the multiple idiots who used me like a doormat.
Contrary to the opinion of my roommate, who I love very much but occasionally want to smack because she doesn't quite get my point no matter how many times I explain it, I'm not saying my life is perfect. Let's face it, it's not. A lot of it still sucks, and could very likely get worse in a few weeks when my family drives up here. Yeah, let's not focus on that for awhile. Or ever.
I am also not saying I'm completely content with my aspect of the world and how my days go. I'm really not. But I'm also not unhappy with it. I'm not miserable or depressed. I'm not even sitting here waiting on pins and needles for something bad to happen. The worst thing I see in my future we've already touched on enough for one post.
So, I guess you could say I am...not quite happy. Or even content, really. But living? That one is applicable.
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