Today was my last day at work.

I held it together until I got home and then I couldn’t hold it together anymore. So, I’m sitting on the couch home alone with my tears, eating chocolate. Hahaha. Ridiculous.

This makes my heart happy and sad at the same time. It’s precious.

Yes, occasionally I’m actually mushy and sentimental.

I’d like to announce my resignation…

No, not from blogging. From San Francisco. That’s right, I’m leaving. This is not a test or some cruel joke (although, at times it kind of feels like it is). This is me saying goodbye to you–you, being San Francisco. In exactly two weeks I will be back, living in Southern California.

It hasn’t hit me that this is actually happening; that’s probably why I haven’t said anything. I don’t even know where/what to start packing. I just don’t want to pack at all, because as soon as I start, it means this is really happening. Obviously I’m in denial. So I guess that’s why I’m writing this–the first step in moving is to admit you are moving, then comes the packing, etc. Right?

At least I’m not crying as I write this, ’cause for a while there every time I would think about it, I could feel the tears well up in my eyes and I would have to desperately try and push them back. This is especially embarrassing when it happens on the train or at work.

“I have to sneeze, that’s why my eyes are watering.” Yeah, right.

I don’t even feel anything as I write this…it’s just…surreal? I just want to hide out in my room for the next two weeks and see what happens. (But of course that’s not what I’m actually going to do!) So I’m going to leave it at that for now. I’ll get to the mushy/I love/miss you stuff later. I just don’t have it in me right now.

Thank you and goodnight.

Hustlin’, hustlin’. Everyday I’m hustlin’.

I’ve been in a mood…you know what I mean? I can’t seem to shake it either. I thought I had toward the end of last week, but it’s back…what to do…?

I can’t sleep. I mean, I sleep, but it’s not real sleep. My mind hasn’t shut down since…? Won’t shut down. I dream and then can’t remember if what happened was a dream or something that actually happened in my waking life. It’s a weird sensation. It happens every so often. I just want to sleep. Real sleep.

Aside from the usual suspects–school, finals, work, etc. I think I’ve made a decision that I’m not very happy with. That I wasn’t really ready for. That I kind of want to take back. It causes me little pangs of pain; teeny, tiny panic attacks. I really did think I would be fine, but maybe I’ve changed my mind. When did I become this kind of girl?

I apologize for being so cryptic. Sometimes I can’t decide if something is blog appropriate or personal journal appropriate? Maybe there’s no longer a difference? I want to talk about it, and I don’t. Mostly I just want it to go away.

Still waiting on that time machine…