Brown Limes

And writing always helps all this mess sort itself out.

These are a few thoughts.

I miss the summer with my whole self.  The summer is so much simpler than the rest of life.  I don’t even know why.  You just feel twelve in the summer, even if you have some very grown up experiences and some very grown up feelings.

I have finally put away some parts of my life that have been around since I was 17.  I constantly ask myself why certain things happened that summer; why I met her and why I felt like I did and why those feelings evolved into something too big for my adolescent brain to comprehend.  I always went back to those feelings.  I couldn’t leave them alone.  They were too real and too good to leave alone.  In my mind, I had come up with about a hundred trillion different possibilities for how things could work but it just won’t work.  I have said about a thousand times that I am over it, but today was the first day that I could say this honestly.  I don’t regret any of it.

I walked alone to my apartment from the library tonight around 10:30.  I was listening to the Beatles.  I don’t remember what song and it absolutely doesn’t matter.  I slipped my flip flops off and walked bare foot in front of the Joseph F. Smith Building and I looked at the moon and it was the same moon that I’ve seen at least 8,000 times and I felt like a human being.

Speaking of being, a question that I am forever asking myself is the following, penned by someone else: Are we human? Or are we dancers?

Esther Valora Harsh is, perhaps, one of the greatest people with whom I have had the pleasure of associating.  And I have dealt with some great ones.

I love speaking Spanish.  If you think about it all day, you will eventually speak it fluidly and beautifully.

I struggle with social awkwardness.  I love being around people and I consider myself to be outgoing.  But I just have some weirdnesses that need working out.

On a related note, I need more friends.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is definitely my favorite Jedi.

Tumblring in the BYU library is a semi-awkward experience, incidentally.

chelseadodd:

I love myself for who I was. I love myself even more for who I am, and what I can be.

Moreover, I want to be loved for who I am and for who I can be.