It has finally gotten to that point in the year where it just stays warm. And I'm thankful for it, because I was getting tired of the fluctuations in temperature. I'm tired of a lot of things: I'm tired of waiting for the year to be over, or perhaps already tired of waiting for it to begin again. I'm tired of the dust on my bookshelf, but every time I see it I'm too lazy to clean it. I'm tired of the mess on my side of the room, but I'll take care of that this weekend. I'm tired of work and I'm tired of playing second (which means nothing and everything at the same time). I'm tired of waiting for things to happen, tired of boring life. But I'm loving things too. I'm loving the newly green trees and the tulips in bloom and things getting back to looking the way they did when I fell in love with this place. I'm loving the warmth, I'm loving affection. But I love nobody, or the people I truly love are far away. My roommate is going home this weekend and I envy her. I wish I could go home, see my parents, see my friends who are already home for the summer. I wish a lot of things... if only some of them would come true.
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