![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I'm just chasing time again
Dec. 22nd, 2005 08:53 amI'm starting to think that when I was busy skipping/avoiding school, I missed the day when everyone got their futures handed to them in a secret envelope. Or at least worked on that whole social interraction thing.
If you don't remember, the two best friends who live here are both working on plotting their weddings, flashing rings here and there, or dragging me into places that will only confirm the "I'm fat" knowledge. I don't need to try on dresses with the skinniest girl I know standing next to me, kay? Okay, she's not actually that skinny, but she's close enough. Remember now? Good. Other friend seems to either be in the same boat or about to join 'em in the land of engaged.
To which I say, huh. Am I the only person with no happily ever after with someone on the horizon? Well, no. Duh. I know that. But it's weird when people you grew up with, people you remember as little kids or in that fun akward pre-teen stage are talking marriage and you're not. Somewhere in my head, I still see them that way. Not in a bad sort of way, no "ha! you're just five years old, you brat!" thoughts, just that all the evidence certain people have given to the contrary, I still see getting married as this very... adult sort of thing. Dunno, not making much sense I imagine. Despite the fact that I have very little interest in getting hitched anytime soon, that doesn't mean I don't feel a little left behind. But not in that horrible Kirk Cameron movie sort of way. *dies*
My lips are chapped to the point where I fear that if they aren't slathered in chapstick/balm/gloss, and I smile, they'll split and that wouldn't be good, no.
I now return to reading Predator and avoiding wrapping the small pile of gifts that have tried to kill me on more than one occasion.
Did I mention the widget bit me? Well, he did, and my arm is still kind of tender in that spot, though I can't see the circle of pain anymore.
Dude, what happened to Raphia's upper lip?
If you don't remember, the two best friends who live here are both working on plotting their weddings, flashing rings here and there, or dragging me into places that will only confirm the "I'm fat" knowledge. I don't need to try on dresses with the skinniest girl I know standing next to me, kay? Okay, she's not actually that skinny, but she's close enough. Remember now? Good. Other friend seems to either be in the same boat or about to join 'em in the land of engaged.
To which I say, huh. Am I the only person with no happily ever after with someone on the horizon? Well, no. Duh. I know that. But it's weird when people you grew up with, people you remember as little kids or in that fun akward pre-teen stage are talking marriage and you're not. Somewhere in my head, I still see them that way. Not in a bad sort of way, no "ha! you're just five years old, you brat!" thoughts, just that all the evidence certain people have given to the contrary, I still see getting married as this very... adult sort of thing. Dunno, not making much sense I imagine. Despite the fact that I have very little interest in getting hitched anytime soon, that doesn't mean I don't feel a little left behind. But not in that horrible Kirk Cameron movie sort of way. *dies*
My lips are chapped to the point where I fear that if they aren't slathered in chapstick/balm/gloss, and I smile, they'll split and that wouldn't be good, no.
I now return to reading Predator and avoiding wrapping the small pile of gifts that have tried to kill me on more than one occasion.
Did I mention the widget bit me? Well, he did, and my arm is still kind of tender in that spot, though I can't see the circle of pain anymore.
Dude, what happened to Raphia's upper lip?
