sometimes i want to write. sometimes i feel like i need to write. but really, when i click the link “write” that brings me to an empty box waiting for me to fill it, i realize that i don’t have anything.

i was tonight. i just was. i don’t know if one real thought passed through my mind, but it felt restful. for tonight, please just let me be.

i wore my mums old apron. actually, i’m still wearing it. there are eaten lemon bars and a large platter of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen. i had a free evening. i didn’t know what else to do. i dusted tables and started to vacuum floors that had already been cleaned today. i made popcorn and then i baked my night away.

sometimes i feel overlooked. then i tell myself that that’s just silly feelings. and somehow i thought i wouldn’t deal with this at this age. i guess i’m still waiting for that maturing thing to happen to me.

we have a Sitting Room. we’ve never had a Sitting Room before so this is all rather new to me. it’s a bit more formal than our Family Room where all movie watching happens and a little less formal than my mums old Front Room/Parlor. i’m sitting in it… on the love seat, indian style, wearing an apron with a glass bowl of pineapple beside me. my mouth is tingly from all the pineapple i’ve consumed in the last hour, but i don’t exercise much self-control in my life over any situation, so why start when eating something that tastes so wonderful in the moment?

i had my first “Louissa is an irresponsible adult” moment recently. i don’t ever balance my checkbook but i didn’t think it that bad since i’ve only written a handful of checks since i opened the account a year ago. but i use my debit card. i use it more than anything. and i don’t keep track of my checking account whatsoever. my debit card used it up, i wrote a check, and i overdrew on the account. yes, i felt rather lame.

it’s 10:06pm and i’m the only one awake in the house.
mostly i’m fine, but a little bit i’m lonely.

every week i have a new favorite song. and i listen to it until i’ve thoroughly killed it. this may not be the wisest way of doing things, but as i said, there’s no self-control in me so the repeat button continues to be hit. i’ve listened to one Regina Spektor song seven times already tonight.

there are dishes on the counter. half of me says that i should go clean the kitchen. the other half of me says that i’m tired too — can’t i just go to bed?