For only being a friend when it's in their best interest. For only talking to you when they want information out of you, for only caring about your life when it benefits them or someone else. I'm actually fine right now, just very analytical. It rained all day today; the first rain this city has seen in about a month. I woke up mid-afternoon to the sound of downpour and the dimness of a room untainted by sunlight. Shades of grey.
It was nice to have a day off from work today. Sleeping in, showering, and pulling on a pair of sweats. I cleaned my room, made food and cleaned the kitchen and rec room. I wasn't sad. I was just fine, burning out still from the night before, wondering how sales were at the store today, wondering how Cody's race had gone, thinking about a friend I'm a little worried about, asking myself whether or not I was fine. And I am fine.
I always date things that I write, and that includes shopping lists, things-to-do, course planning, post-it notes. When I look back on old notes from friends, I wish they were dated. Cody never dated any of his letters to me, which annoys me, because in 10 years, I will not remember what month anniversary they were for, I will not remember why we were fighting that night. Every day that passes is a day in history we cannot get back.
I have said this before, and I'll say it again: Tea is a wonder drug. The stuff is delicious. It cures every ailment. It's good for any mood you're in. It's just a bloody brilliant invention.
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