I was lying in bed all wrapped up in my favorite fuzzy red blanket remember fond memories of C and I. Sometimes as a lie within my red fuzzy cocoon of comfort I feel as if my bed is an extension of myself. It is hard to tell where I begin and it ends.
It’s tiring being so painfully aware of how single I am. I don’t want to be this girl I’m becoming. The girl that doesn’t exist unless she’s somebody’s girlfriend. I want to exist apart from someone.