Weirdness

It’s been a while since I have had a somewhat meaningful blog, and so this feels weird. Sure another paragraph or two in and I will feel welcomed into blogdom again, but for right now, its almost, I don’t know. It feels familiar, but different from what it used to feel like. Like I don’t know what to do…

Ian and I went on break, though it was really short. I felt guilty about it, I felt guilty that it hurt him, and I felt guilty that he was angry about it. That break ended barely 24 hours later. I am weak, I know. The problem is communication. I don’t like constant texting, or calling, or cutsey crap, he needs it. He needs to know where I am at all times, and gets mad if I don’t tell him exactly when I get back to the apartment. Like when we had movie night last week, I told him I was in Sanger Hall, he thought it was part of a different campus. If it was I would have said “hey, I am not on Chatham’s campus, I am at blah blah.” But he doesn’t believe that. 

Two friends of mine are hopefully coming up soon, can’t wait to see them, because quiet frankly, I don’t want to go home right now. I don’t think things are right there at the moment, seeing as I have talked to my dad more this week then in the past few months. He never calls, especially not to say “I wanted to get your voicemail so that I could tell you that I am proud of you”. That never happens, not in my family. I guess things are going rough for my great Aunt, as my parents bought her home in Florida, which means my Uncle Bob is getting worse, well at least one of them is. The one in Michigan is doing fine so it seems, and he is gaining weight again which is a good thing. A tiny Homa man is a scary thing. My other aunt is finally moving out of the house her and my uncle shared for at least a decade after they moved out of their apartment. It feels weird, knowing that my Uncle Frog will never be in the new house, never let his boy scout crap clog up an attic, or fishing stuff sit in the wine cellar area of the really old and spooky basement. It’s hard to believe that it has almost been three years since we lost him, and two years since we lost my Pappa. It’s strange, and yet, it still makes me cry to think about. I wanted them both to see just one game of mine, just one truly awesome game, and well, they aren’t going to see it in person, I won’t be able to run up and give my Pappa a hug after, or like after dance recitals, get a big bouquet of yellow roses from each of them. It’s weird to think about.

I am tired of my ankle not getting well. It is getting better, but it’s just so slowly that I can’t take it. It makes me wonder if it is worth it to go back and play next year. Though I know it’s all I have wanted, watching at practice, makes me cry on the way back to the apartment every time. I should be out there, breathing heavily and possibly passing out because I hate running, but I should be out there with the rest of my team. I think I am just having a bad week, I don’t feel as though I exist anymore.

Love Always,

Laurel Lee