Fuck Sunday nights.

I have a lot of loose ends. A lot of stuff on my plate, weight on my chest. In order to move on with two jobs and seven classes the pressure has got to go. Forgiveness, mistake, sorry, yes, and no are words which have found their way into my vocbularly. I’m moving through the dead space and stale air, and taking some advice from T. Swift to ‘speak now’.

All of this is leading to confronting my most recent, troubling, issue. I don’t want to be one of the girls who spend weekends touring Oakland houses and leaving trails of underwear. I don’t know how I get myself into situations all of the time that just end, no goodbye, no fight, no see you next year. Nothing. Maybe it isn’t my role as a female to clear the void. But with two science classes I don’t have any time for other unknowns out there.