sentiments don't exist.

Dear you,

I've been alive 19 years, 1 month, 23 days, 11 hours, 54 minutes, and 27 seconds (as of 3:05:27AM).

That isn't very long but at the same time that's my entire life and it keeps lengthening and it isn't going to get any shorter or any less experienced or hold any less time because that's all this is really about is counting this man made concept of the passage of something that theoretically doesn't actually really even exist. And I'm thinking about how even though time is made up and none is actually passing, I'm still getting older. And right now I'm thinking my predicted death date is far too close.

Can you tell I'm having a crisis? Can you tell?

The amount of anxiety I have contained in my body right now is ridiculous.

I'm so unbelievably awkward that when my live-in best friend (roommate seems so... detached a title?) thanked me for the cute lunch I made her I couldn't even reply "you're welcome" I was so embarrassed and happy, so instead I went on a rampage at the local grocery store to buy a ton more food for lunches to make for her.

Somehow I love my purple hair but at the same time I hate it because it makes me visible. Like, sorry, but I didn't dye my hair this color for you to stare at random stranger. So please stop? Okay? Okay.

I'm afraid I might like you because of a series of reasons. One being that you have a girlfriend and another being that you don't think of me like that (I can tell) and another being I'm afraid you don't think I'm pretty and one more being, oh yeah, you have a girlfriend. And I just don't know what to do because I just really want you to think I'm pretty and you to want to talk to me even though you aren't very good at that and I know that you think I'm kind of a pain in the ass ('cause let's face it, I totally am) but that isn't as important as the fact that I really don't want to like you, for reasons and for other reasons and just it's a bad idea.

Maybe I'm just full of bad ideas and indecision and I'm just really glad I'm figuring out some things even if I can't figure out the bigger things because all I really know about university is that mine has the prettiest campus in Utah and no one actually knows what they're doing even though they pretend to and professors are all slightly crazy and I'm really glad I never had to take English 1010 because it seems horrible and I don't want to take math and I hate my demography class and I really love art because it's one of the only things that allows me to be messy on purpose and writing, while one of my favorite things, requires an English degree and god knows I do not want to write all those papers.

I just love my bonsai tree and my terrariums and my plants, plants, plants and they make me happy and my goldfish make my happy and my room makes me happy even if I haven't hung up anything on the walls yet and maybe, just maybe, I'll figure out more things as I go along and maybe you'll start to like me back (insert snorting noise of disbelief here).

I've been alive 19 years, 1 month, 23 days, 12 hours, 10 minutes, and 42 seconds (as of 3:19:42AM).

And I'm still trying to figure out how to be happy.

Sincerely,
xx
Blue