Seriously. Last week was so bad. I know when I'm going crazy, and I hate every minute of it, yet there's absolutely nothing I can do besides ride it out and hope that I don't sabotage too much in the midst of my hysteria. I can't even tell you how many times I nearly had a mental breakdown, and my journal entries will go to prove to a saner me just what a whack job I really am. Fortunately enough, the late-night phone calls, the hours of girl talk, and the pint of Haagen Dazs in my freezer helped me pull through quite nicely, and I'm back to normal this week.
It's the last week of school, and the last week of whatever has been happening for the past two months of my life. He moves back to Alaska next Tuesday, and I'm not entirely sure what will become of us as we continue our lives 3,000 miles away from one another. We've avoided talking too much about what comes next, and I'm left to soak up every minute we have over the next seven days. I want to make sure that I'm the only girl he thinks about when he's up in the cold white north. (I don't actually think it's all that cold or white right now, but I thought I'd say it anyway.) I know that I'll be doing a lot more things by myself, and I'm prepping myself for that twinge of loneliness every time I need a little him in my life. It'll all be fine, though, and I'll tell myself that a million times over the next sixteen weeks.
Thus concludes my ode to normal hormones. I can handle one week of crazy as long as the rest of the time is like this.
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