I’ve been having really messed up dreams lately. I don’t know why, but my subconscious is either telling me to watch out for people with Molotov Cocktails and people robbing GoodWill, or I need to do some soul searching. That, or I need to watch the icecream eating before bed.
I think stress makes my dreams wack. I guess that makes sense, I’m too busy freaking out when I’m awake I push down the real freaking out so I don’t have to deal with it till the stress goes away. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I would write a blog about such a trivial matter like teenage girl’s dreams. I don’t have an answer.
Now on to something unrelated. Moving out. That’s right. I’m heading out. Not for another 3 months, but I swear, the weekend after I graduate, i’m out of here. I’m moving in with my best friend and it is going to be glorious. See, she understands my need to get out better than almost anyone, that other anyone being my dad who totally gets what i’m dealing with. I’m excited. No scolding. No more you can do betters. Well. Mayne sometimes.
It is going to be totally of our making. The room colors, the furniture. We get to decide how things will be, when to go to bed, what to make for dinner. I’m excited to paint the house. My room, in case you were wondering, is going to be grey/purple and blue. And black.
It is going to be hard, and expensive. Messy at times. Possibly scary. But it will be ours. And I can’t wait.