Saltwater Taffy

If I had a superpower, it would be that I wouldn't have bodily functions. Like: I wouldn't have to stop whatever I was doing (saving the world, obviously) to go pee (I have a really small bladder so I have to stop what I'm doing to pee quite often. It's pretty annoying) or get weak/faint when I was hungry. I wouldn't get tired. I would just have consistent amounts of energy all the time. Doesn't that sound amazing? Also, my super-fuel would be cookies. Because I LOVE COOKIES. But also they would be my Kryptonite. My challenge in life would be finding the fine line between the two.

But you know what? Life stinks. In both a metaphorical and an olfactoral way. And I do have bodily functions that slow me down and prevent me from being more productive than I would be if I didn't have them. They're so inconvenient.

I eat a mango every Thursday. It's just a nice, fruitalicious treat that I like to give to myself for surviving most of the week. But this week my mango was underripe and sour. It tasted like lemonade. Except for it was a mango. So that's pretty weird and it made me sad. It was not a nice, fruitalicious treat. It was depressing but I made myself eat it because I refuse to waste something that I spent perfectly good money on. 

Life is just really unfortunate like that sometimes. Sometimes your mango is sour. Sometimes you don't have sheets on your bed for the third night in a row so you just have to sleep on a mattress pad. Again. Sometimes you accidentally spend $46 on food and then you're super poor. Sometimes when you try to shower for the first time in two days, your apartment doesn't have hot water, so then you have to not shower for three days. Sometimes you find little baby spiders in your dirty laundry. Yuck. And then you just feel like this:

It's like life is squishing your face. On purpose. Which is not cool. And it hurts.

Sometimes I get really overwhelmed. When I know I have a lot coming at me, I imagine it kind of like I'm standing under a shower head, and I'm anticipating it spraying a steady stream of hot water on me, when I would just really rather be doing something completely different, but it's just one of those things you have to do. So I prepare myself for the hot water that is about to be on my back, and then what actually comes out of the shower head is super freezing cold water. And it's pelting me. It's like a fire hose instead of a shower. And I'm shivering so badly and I just want to curl up and die and I don't know how to make it stop and it's just pushing me down, both physically and emotionally. 

And then I feel bad and tell myself that I deserve it, because I knew that this was coming...but I didn't realize what it would be like. And I try to comfort myself with Scriptures and with Jesus. And this might sound terribly irrelevant and just awful and maybe heathenistic, but here I go: Jesus doesn't make me feel better when I'm crying over a biology test. I know that He's taking care of me always but I feel guilty applying the deep, wise words of Scripture to things like British literature. I worry about dumb things, and I know that they're dumb, and I know that I shouldn't. And so I just deem the things I'm worried about as foolish and then, because I don't pray over them or tell anyone I'm worried, I get so much more stressed about them. 

And the thing about it is that He does care! He cares about the mundane details of my life and He's felt all of these feelings I have, but deeper. He wants to love me and take care of me, and when I think that my life is too dumb to tell him about, that's not trusting Him and not allowing Him to love me. Which He wants to do! 

Joseph M. Criven wrote the hymn, "What a Friend We Have in Jesus" and, in it, said "What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer!" It is a privilege. 

When I get really stressed, I feel like I'm saltwater taffy and everybody wants a piece of me so then all these people are just squeezing off pieces of my skin and it hurts and then I realize that I never gave anyone permission to pinch me apart. But when I carry everything to God in prayer, I am able to calm down. I can see the long run, which is that the reason I'm in class is because I'm in school so that I can grow up and go be a teacher to my beautiful special friends because that is what God has called me and allowed me the opportunity to do. And once I see that, I calm down and find my motivation and I can keep going and persevering through stressful times. But if I never do that, I just get really flustered and anxious and then I cry and that's not productive at all and then I get more freaked out because I'm wasting time crying because of all these dumb emotions. It's very bad. So that is why I should take everything to the Lord in prayer. He sends me encouragement (Chick Fil A) and comfort (cookie dough) and warmth (hugs) and more than I could ever need. He sends me the hope of Heaven. On the worst days when I just cannot find encouragement or comfort anywhere, I just look forward to Heaven.

There's a lot I don't know about Heaven. But we talked about it at RUF on Tuesday night and then on Wednesday night, my roommate and one of our friends and I sat on our couch imagining Heaven. The air smells sweet and mangoes always taste perfect and I can run and not get tired and everything I do will be an act of worship. How awesome does that sound?! When I eat, it will not be because I need the nutrients, but because God created food for us to enjoy and enjoying it is how I praise Him. In Heaven, I can ride down Niagara Falls. On a boogie board. And not bust my brains out. Or I can erupt out of a volcano just for fun. Or I can go nap in a beautiful meadow and not get hot or bugbitten, because those things won't exist. There will be honeysuckles and wildflowers on the side of every road. 

When we talked about Heaven at RUF on Tuesday, Stephen pointed out how it's not that we have to live it up before we go to Heaven and do all of these super crazy/dangerous things before we die and go to boring old Heaven. Au contraire! The things we don't get to do here, we can do in Heaven. But they'll be super infinitely cooler. Like we can play clarinet while running a marathon, which is like multitasking to the max. And kind of impossible here. Because I cannot play clarinet. 

I'm legitimately pretty excited for Heaven, but it's pretty intimidating that it's forever. Like what even is forever? When I was little, when I thought about Heaven I would get really scared and envision a road twisting up a mountain, getting smaller and smaller because it was farther away, but never ending. Just going so far that it became invisible. I can't even comprehend forever, but I look forward to it.

And it puts so much of me into perspective. What is the point of being so frivolous and caring about things like makeup being stolen when I know that I have 81 years left on this Earth, tops? It also makes me question why society tells me to shower so often, because I could be so much more productive with my time if I showered just a little less often...but that's a different story. 

I have a mission on this earth, and that mission is to glorify God in all that I do. Whether that be singing a song about a hairbrush, putting sheets on a lofted bed, or doing geometry homework, in all of those things, I'm called to glorify Him. And to not complain while doing them. I get to put my all into everything I do so that every single person around me can see that there is something different about me. On the outside, the something different about me is that I'm wearing a huge polka-dotted bow in my hair. But on the inside, the something different about me is that I'm doing all of my work and play and teeth-brushing to the glory of God. It's all for something bigger than what it looks like. Bigger than isosceles triangles, bigger than mitochondria, bigger than William Morris (he was a poet we studied in my British literature class). It's all for Jesus. Every single chloroplast. Forever and ever amen.

Love,
Lauralicious

Everybody Poops

The thing I love about school is that I get to study education. Of the special variety. And then the thing I don't love about school is certain other girls. I'm just not really the same as a lot of those certain other girls.* A gracious plenty (but not all) of them are in education to find husbands. Or just so they can say that they have a college degree but not really work for it. A lot of them seem like the exact same person...which is really weird and kind of redundant. Also most of them seem pretty perfect...it's like they don't poop. Or have back sweat. Really it's like the only bodily functions they have are the cute ones, like sneezing. And I do not appreciate that. Because I barely ever sneeze, but when I do, it's a disaster. 

They look fabulous all the time, even when they come into class every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday ten minutes late wearing what I'm pretty sure they slept in the night before. They can totally pull off the huge t-shirt that's so long that you can't tell they're wearing pants underneath, but when I wear huge t-shirts, it's difficult to locate me under all that fabric.  When they're dressed up, they look pretty great. When they're wearing running shorts and a t-shirt, they do it with jewelry and fancy expensive sandals (which I'm pretty sure defeats the purpose of workout clothes, but it works for them). I have a calendar that I got from Walmart and covered in princess stickers, but their calendars are huge and fancy and not very inexpensive. Those girls just in general seem to have a lot of money. They've just got it all together.

After being at Camp all summer, where you are who you are and everyone is unconditionally accepted all the time, it's exhausting to be here. I walk into a room and feel inferior because I have a non-plastic face, and I feel like a hipster (even though I'm really not) because I don't dress nearly as preppy as they do. And I know that it's totally illogical and supersensitive of me to worry/care about what they think of how I look...yet I can't help it. And then I get really frustrated with my feelings because I wish I had more control over them. It makes me want to growl...but then I remember that I am not a three-year-old boy. Or a dog.

But you know what the even more dumb thing is? Even dumber than decaf coffee (what is the purpose of coffee without caffeine? I cannot comprehend.)? That I continue to feel that way. I know how lame it is of me to care, yet I continue to try to impress them and be on their level.  Seriously. Of all the things God has given me, I'm complaining about having a face that's made of actual skin? I'm jealous of girls who have sleek phones that suck up all their attention and murder their brain cells? Those are not things to be jealous of. 

For the first week of school, I wore cute clothes so the other girls would think I was cool. But they were the kind of clothes that those girls wear, not the kind I actually wanted to wear. I was slightly miserable. And uncomfortable. 

But since then I've been wearing what I want. Because I can't be those girls, even if I try. I have bellydancing/interpretive dance sessions alone in my car on a regular basis and it's really fun. I skip instead of walking most of the time. My posture is horrible. I eat granola bars upside-down (as in the granola bar is flipped, but I stay right-side-up. Usually.). My contacts fall out of my eyes in the middle of biology sometimes. I feel extreme excitement when someone asks for my number because it's just a really happy feeling. And those pieces of my personality are just not things that I'm willing to give up.

My dad and I were talking recently and he told me that I come on strong (and not in a muscular way) sometimes. And I am very aware of this. I just have a big personality and a really scatterbrained mind and also big feet. And that's the reason I feel inferior to these girls. Not because I actually am, but because they are so much more subdued than I am - at least when I see them - so it appears that they are magically groomed and calm and prepared for anything all the time. 

Once upon a time, a long long time ago, I struggled with this same thing: comparing myself to others. And my mama always told me that everybody puts their pants on the same way in the morning (which I don't believe 100% because I hate to stereotype but their pants are sometimes a lot tighter than mine). And she told me that everybody poops. Which is definitely (probably) true. So the other girls are probably not quite as perfect as I think they are. But they sure are good at looking like it. 

Eleanor Roosevelt said, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." And I never until right now realized that she was a genius. Because it's not those girls who are making me feel the way I feel. It's me. It's me comparing myself to them. If I do not give them my consent, I will not feel inferior. What a smart lady. Eleanor Roosevelt, ladies and gentlemen. 

I am just a huge plate of noodles with who knows what else mixed in. And you know what? I like it that way. Because I get to depend on Jesus to be the spaghetti sauce to hold me together. And that is a huge privilege and honor.

I really like this by Leonard Cohen because it's incredibly true and basically what I've been trying to say this whole time:

"So ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in.” 

― Leonard Cohen

My imperfections and crazinesses are actually a conduit of Christ's perfection and light. By being out of control all the time and realizing that I cannot remember anything unless I write it down and that I cannot successfully do anything (like not even breathing. Or having a face) without Christ to walk me through it and that I am worth nothing alone, I'm allowing Him to come in to my life so much more than I would be if I had it all together. Doesn't that just make you feel so good? How crazy awesome is it to know that Jesus uses you as you are, with your personality and gifts and struggles and the lack of cohesiveness between your brain and your mouth to further His kingdom? I find that incredibly encouraging.

Allow your untogetherness to point to Christ. Let Him be your spaghetti sauce. I'm serious. I'm pretty proud of that analogy. 

That is all. 

Love, 

Lauralicious

*Disclaimer: There are some really sweet girls who I like a lot and who embrace their inner crazy person and are super cool. But that's not who I'm talking about in this post. 

Life and Times

Hey guys I'm Laura and I'm kind of a mess. Evidence:

1. The Great Oil Spill of '13 - This isn't actually my fault but I think it's pretty funny. It's a typical day in the life of Laura. A couple of weeks ago, it was a Monday morning and I was walking to the pantry to get my granola when all of a sudden, the floor was super slippery. I felt like a carton character who comes in contact with a banana. I managed to not fall, but still I was very unstable. I did a little dance. It was probably pretty entertaining for any flies on the wall of my apartment. Somehow during the night, an entire bottle of olive oil fell out of the pantry and spilled all over the hardwood floor (making it slippery). So I just kind of threw a blanket on it and then my roommate and I cleaned it up later. It was so hilarious and also the very last thing I could have expected to happen at eight o'clock on a Monday morning. I like to call it The Great Oil Spill of '13 because it sounds so cool and dramatic. And oh boy do I like to be dramatic. 

2. Yogurt - Proof of my messy life #4 (see below) caused me much anguish, both emotionally and academically. This is an example of the emotional anguish. One day I was really upset right after I called my mama and I was in my apartment alone crying but also I was really hungry so I prepared some yogurt and granola (with blueberries!) for myself and I was sitting on my bed reading a letter from my sweet friend Savannah but I'm a messy person as you may know and some of my yogurt/granola/blueberries (blueberries blueberries yum!) spilled over the mug I was eating them out of (do normal people eat yogurt in mugs? Because it's really fun.) and onto my bedspread. So I cried some more. I was pretty frustrated with the fact that apparently I cannot control my hands or my snacks.

3. Chicken - Last Sunday night I was being cool and inventive with recipes and I was going to make some lemon pepper chicken. So my chicken was frozen in a ziploc bag in the freezer...but somehow the chicken froze around the rungs of our freezer. I could not get it out. My chicken was stuck and I was really hungry! I called three engineers and the third one answered and I was laughing so hard on the phone that he couldn't understand what I was saying. But eventually I got my words out and he came over and saved my life (and my meat!) So I decided that I absolutely must have an engineer within six miles of me all the time for the rest of my life. 

4. The Great Nail Polish Remover Spill of the Century - this is the most scarring incident of spillage in my recent adventures. I just keep spilling things and it's not good. Not good at all. I was sitting on the floor taking nail polish off of my fingernails so that I could paint my nails purple for the Georgia game (my toes were orange and I really wanted to be festive for the game). I stood up to grab something on my desk and my huge foot knocked over the bottle of nail polish remover. So what was once a full bottle is now a half-full bottle. Everything on the computer worked fine except for a few keys but I continued using it because I was watching Gossip Girl. So I painted my nails purple (I would just like to say that they didn't even look that good...it was an off night for me apparently) and then turned my computer (named Squishy, by the way, which was unfortunately a slightly fitting name after I spilled liquid inside of it) upside-down while I slept (so it could drain out?). I took it to class with me in the morning so I could take it to CCIT afterwards and during class it got really really hot. It was kind of awful. I took it to CCIT and they were not very encouraging. I cried a little bit and then they told me to have a nice day. Ha. Very funny, CCIT guys. I was kind of mad at them for saying that. I refused to have a nice day (but then I did later...kind of on accident). 

Good news for those who want to know: I didn't have to get a whole new computer. Whew. What. A. Relief. I got a new keyboard and I am using it right this very minute and it is very nice and clean and functional. Life is good again. I will allow myself to have nice days now that my computer is okay. We've just had so many adventures together and I didn't want to be separated. But I lasted six days without it...which may not sound like a lot, but when all of your homework is online, it definitely changes things. 

That week was pretty emotional for me. In addition to all of my spills and messes and inconveniently frozen meat, I was about to have to say goodbye to Emma and I had just said goodbye to John and Hannah and Lainey (see this post). But so many encouragements came to me via the US Postal Service and Jesus (mostly Jesus). 

My mama brought me two letters that had been sent to my house for me. One was a letter from Savannah. It was short and super super sweet. She told me about how she's loving Anderson University and making friends and I loved getting to hear about it. And then at the end was a paragraph of compliments. You guys, I'm not even going to pretend I don't love compliments. Because I do love them. Because I have a plethora of insecurities and unsure-ities (because that's a word?) and compliments make my heart feel kind of like my mouth feels when there is chocolate cake inside of it. I know not to fish for compliments (I've never been a great fishergirl) or to blow them up to mean everything to me. I am absolutely aware (and eternally grateful) that all of my worth and value come from my Savior, Jesus Christ. But, you know, sometimes when you're sitting on your bed trying (but not quite succeeding due to a mug full of yogurt that has a mind of its own) to eat and cry, reading kind and genuine words from a forever friend are just exactly what it takes to take you from sobbing to small hiccuping. And to eventually to not crying at all, to just straight up breathing. And that is why forever friends are a gift straight from Jesus in Heaven. Because I hadn't seen Savannah in a while and I highly doubt that when she wrote that letter to me she knew that when I read it, I would be bawling on my bed over things like computers and yogurt. Also she sent it to my house, which meant that it got to my house before I actually got it. If I had gotten it the day it had arrived at my house, it wouldn't have meant as much to me as it did at that very moment when I read it. God moves in mysterious and marvelous ways. 

The other letter that my mom brought me that day was from Camp. It was from the TAJAR, a mysterious animal kind of thing maybe? (I really don't know quite what the TAJAR is. Someone feel free to enlighten me), but it said, "Remember, you were planted where you are for a reason. Now grow!" I read it and then I was like, "Seriously, man? I mean there is definitely a lot of growing room for me right here where I am, but I would rather not hear that I was planted here for a reason, because I am currently pretty miserable. I would like to think that it was a twist in the path of fate that brought me here, not that I was brought here completely on purpose." But I knew that the TAJAR was right, so I did what it told me. I grew. I had already read the letter from Savannah so I was crying less than I previously had been, and I was at that point convinced that I was going to have to purchase for myself a new computer with my life savings...and a new computer would cost about the same as my life savings. Probably more. I don't really know, but enough to distress me a lot. But instead of freaking out and worrying about that, I changed from running shorts to khaki shorts and put on some chapstick and cleaned up my messy face and then I went to Chick Fil A with my friend Haley and had a good day. Thanks, TAJAR, whatever you are. 

And more than that, thanks, Jesus, for sending me encouragement at the perfect time when I need it - right down to the minute and second where I am losing most of my sanity and tranquility - and reminding me that I am loved, and valuable, and going to survive this unfortunate experience.

So now my computer is back and completely functional. The CCIT guys fixed for $35 less than they said they would do it for, which is kind of awesome. Just kidding, it's completely awesome. I appreciate it a lot. I know that if I had a keyboard cover this wouldn't have been nearly as big of a deal as it was, but I'm refusing to buy one because I need to learn my lesson and just not have liquid near my computer. So that way I don't have to buy a keyboard cover or pay to get a whole new keyboard again. Hopefully. 

And I washed my comforter to get rid of the yogurt smudge...but it didn't really go away. So I guess I just get to sleep underneath a yogurt smudge from now on. 

And I put my letter from the TAJAR on my desk, so I see it all the time. I can see it from where I am sitting on my bed right now. I hate that it's right, but it's right, so I plan to do what it says. I plan to learn from my inconvenient and un-ideal situations and plant.dream.grow my way out of them. The end and amen.

God is bigger than the Boogie Man
He's bigger than Godzilla,
Or the monsters on tv.
Oh, God is bigger than the Boogie Man
And He's watching out for you and me.

But seriously. He's watching out for you and me. 

Love, 
Lauralicious

Won't You Just Stay

I had to say a lot of goodbyes this summer. 

It started in May (on my birthday actually!) when I had to say goodbye to all of my new (but not new anymore!) college friends for the summer. It was really sad because I love them all, but I had this year (and the two years after it!) to look forward to, just the summer to get through before we could be reunited.

Then my Worldview friends, Marah and Jonathan, left for camp. I hugged Jonathan at church a few days before he left, but Marah was harder to track down. She works at Chick Fil A, so I went there the day before she was supposed to leave so that I could tell her how much I loved her. But when I went inside, her manager said she was already gone. So that was really sad, but then I saw her car in the parking lot, so I went and parked next to it and started writing her a note in blue Magic Marker on the back of a receipt. I was listening to a mix CD with a bunch of random songs on it. Suddenly, Marah knocked on my window! So I got out and hugged her for a really long time with weird disco music twisting up to us from my car. It was such a beautiful goodbye.

And then I had to say goodbye to my family so that I could leave for Camp. That was really really hard. I cried a lot of tears, but then I was at Camp and happier than ever!

There were a lot of friends I never officially said goodbye to. I thought I would see them at church over the summer and then I didn't. I felt really bad, because I always hated it when people kind of disappeared for the summer without saying goodbye or letting me know when they would be back. And then I kind of did that same thing...but I got to see all of them within a few weeks.

I had to say goodbye to every single camper I had all summer. Those goodbyes were so emotional because I wish I could be with my babies all the time (although none of them are babies - actually most of them are significantly older than me). I wish I could be with them right now. Some of them I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to because they left so quickly and that was so so sad. Camp goodbyes are so hard because you never know when you'll get to see each other again or how much love campers are getting at home. So that's why we bombard them (in a good way) with love while they're with us at Camp and hope some of it sticks and they don't forget how loved they are. All the time forever.

Then I had to say goodbye to all of my Camp friends at our staff banquet at the end of the summer. I enjoyed my summer with each of them so much. Some of them I already knew from previous years and I grew so much closer to all of them this summer, and then there were a ton of new people who became my new favorite friends. And I had to say goodbye to all of them so that we could all go home. After seven weeks of Camp, not being with all my Camp friends was no fun. At all.

Goodbyes are just not fair. It's like trying to cut tough chicken when you don't have a knife so you use the side of a fork and it kind of works but not all the way so mostly you just have some crazy-looking chicken that isn't in one piece. At all. It's all over the plate and the fork and sometimes your face, too, and it is not a pretty sight and it's not really delicious either.

Last year, on August 23rd, 2012, I met Lainey. I didn't know it that day, or the day after that, or maybe even for a few weeks, but she became my best college friend. She's the best ever. Her hair seriously looks like sunshine and her voice is like yummy mangoes and she has a love like woah. Lainey and I had to say goodbye to each other on and off all summer...at the beginning of the summer, then one random weekend, then on the 4th of July, when I went to visit her in Statesboro, and then last weekend, on August 24th (the day after the year anniversary of the day we met!). She's in New Zealand, you guys. And I am so excited for her, but also I miss her being next to me. We got to spend nine days together before school started, and then she was off. We hugged for a very long time in the parking lot in front of my apartment in the hot hot sun and then I went to go babysit and she went to another friend's apartment. And that was the last I saw of her. 

After Lainey I had one more goodbye. A family I'm really close to, the Barrys, just moved to PennState. I met them before they were a family - I knew John when he volunteered with my youth group when I was in middle school and I met Hannah when she and John were engaged, when I was a sophomore in high school. They were so much fun and hosted our youth group over to their house all the time and loved us so well. Hannah and I grew really close because she is fabulous and so wise and gives wonderful advice and makes yummy cookies (if I was a superhero, cookies would be my kryptonite. And my fuel. It's pretty interesting.) and let us spend the night with her when John was gone and continued to be my friend after I woke her up one morning with the sound of my vomiting in her bathroom and she taught me how to cook some really awesome dishes. John's pretty cool, too. And then Emma, their baby who isn't a baby anymore. She's not even a toddler. She's a big girl now. She's almost three. 

I had to say goodbye to John and Hannah last weekend and it was pretty rough. I cried when I got in my car and drove away. And then on Sunday I had to say goodbye to Emma. I wasn't sure if she understood completely that it would be a long time before I got to see her again, but I did my best to explain it to her. I hugged her really hard and then asked her to give me a kiss, and she licked my nose. I love that kid.

Missing people is so fascinating to me. Because it makes sense that you wouldn't miss people, ever. Out of sight, out of mind. I mean, it works for homework, which is why I have to write everything down (lately I've had so much to do that I've made post-it notes of things I need to do and put everything in chronological order and pretty intense detail and stuck it in my calendar on the day it needs to be done so there is no way I can forget). And, honestly, I sometimes don't miss people. I just don't think about them if they're not with me. And then once we're reunited, I'm very happy, but I'm just fine and completely not miserable without them. 

But I really do miss Lainey and John and Hannah and Emma. I'm aware that I can't go see them. I know that if I walk to All In right now, Lainey will not be there. If I text her, she will not answer. If I make cookies, she will not come eat them. Every time I make a joke that she would like, she's not next to me laughing at it and coming up with a response that's even more funny. And now that the Barrys are gone, if I drive over to their house, they won't be there. There will be no chalk on the front steps. If I ask Hannah to go to Chick Fil A with me tomorrow, she won't be able to come. If Emma's in the same room as Amy Haile and I while we're talking, she won't randomly pipe in, saying, "big ol' boobs." Because she won't be there. These people are not near me geographically and it makes me sad because I love them and proximity is so convenient for loving people. 

But that's what transportation is for, right? At least this isn't the Dark Ages. That's what I keep telling myself. I will see all of these people again in my human earthly life. Lainey will be home sometime around Thanksgiving and the Barrys will be in town in October for a wedding. But this is the longest I've been separated from these friends since I've known them. And separation is a sad thing because you're not together. 

Also I'm really good at being dramatic. And I'm good at being emotional. And I would just like it if all the people I loved could always be close to me but maybe leave me alone when I need some space but be ready to play with me the second I want to hang out again. And we could all eat cookies and omelettes together and skip around fields of daffodils (which, in an ideal world, would be in season all the time) and go night-swimming. Every night. But that's not what my life looks like at the moment. So I'll hang out with the people who are here, because I love them and value them too (like A LOT). 

The end.

Love, 
Lauralicious