Two things before I begin being a better blogger by posting more.
Do you remember when you kissed me in the Fibonacci sequence and I got excited because it was the Fibonacci sequence and you got excited because I recognized it by 5?
I think that might have meant something important. Also, there’s an xkcd for that.
More also, this post isn’t about whatever this post was going to be about when I started it.
Right now I’m sheltering from the rain in an apartment complex that is, as far as I can tell, comprised entirely of Indian people. So far they’ve all been very friendly. I just got invited inside because I’ve been standing here for 20 minutes. Never fear, a ride will soon appear.
Ah ha ha. It rhymed.
And apparently there are Chinese residents, too!
Speaking of China, I tried a traditional Chinese rice ball today. It was wrapped in ( possibly ) bamboo leaves and it had nuts and mushrooms in it. It was absolutely delicious.
I took a picture for you and only partially because I have no idea what they’re called in English or what the transliteration is.
So, back to what this blog is not about. It’s not about you. It’s about me. It’s about how I am willing to admit that you may not have been the best thing since sliced bread. Well, actually, it’s probably going to end up being entirely about food. ( Waffle about waffles? Yes, please! )
I think I’m okay. You were a dick. I mean, you helped me out with some paperwork, yes. But you also made me cry with harsh, needless and/or unfeeling comments. You are not the perfect person that I thought you were. You do not have to be my future.
I am, for the first time in memory, happy to be single. I realized that my destiny is mine. I don’t need to be your adoring, if high maintenance, girlfriend. And I don’t need the sweet, nerdy boyfriend. I don’t even want him right now.
What I do want, and this is going on the list, is to eat a waffle on a street named waffle. There just so happens to be a Waffle Drive in Michigan and I am totally going there. Alone. Without you, or her, or some as yet defined him.
I am less afraid now. I am less in need of affirmation. I am more Dru. And I totally deleted your profile on my xbox.
I think this will be the last blog for you, because I think I’m finally ready to stop writing about boys and girls and book characters. I’m ready to fill the world and my journals up with stories about me, who I am; not who I think I love.
I miss you, yes. But I miss you like I miss the pain in my teeth that the extraction fixed – you were familiar and now you’re gone. But I’m still alive.
And I got new glasses. They’re Armani.