Try outs.

Can I just say? You’re so annoying. You’re not supposed to be able to do this to me. It’s like random crap comes out of my mouth. I say things I’m not supposed to. My words start to fumble.

But you do. And it’s fine by me. So maybe I’m not annoyed. Maybe I’m just a little too excited. It’s a good thing too, that you can’t see me. Because I’d want to melt into a pool of guck if you saw me in this way. It’s been a while since someone’s made me feel like this. Forgive my gushing. Okay.

how much those short sporadic conversations have been the highlights of my evenings. Which caught me completely off guard because a. I’m in way over my head, b. since when have I considered something as simple as talking to someone the highlight of my day?, and c. I just read something you said and I squealed, da fuq.

Srsly though, I squealed. And what the hell, I don’t do that, but screw this.

And then I remembered that I accidentally hammered my thumb a few days ago. There was this special activity so I ended up nailing my sins on the cross. Some symbolic hullabaloo by the retreat organizers. They obviously haven’t thought this through. What of the physically inept people like myself?

I could have DIED been maimed! As fun as it was to pound on a piece of paper, being hit by a hammer is not the least bit enjoyable. Oh, the things I’d do when I see you again, Clevee.