I don’t know how many thoughts are bouncing around in my brain.
This morning I thought about an old crush and hearing his voice and the last time I’ll probably speak to him. He and I could always talk easily to each other. We’d harmlessly flirt but more enjoyed bantering. Our friendship always prevailed over any romantic feelings I had for him, even though I’ll get fleetingly furious about it still, I will truly miss him.
I thought about how many people would notice my crying on the subway this morning.
I thought about the time I told a friend who moved from the city that her moving was really good for me. She asked how, and I said it caused me to step up in a lot of ways. I attended church with her quite a few times when I wasn’t feeling particularly LDS. Her moving allowed me to confront my codependent tendencies; to reconsider my priorities. It brought to light how drawn I am to broken people. I don’t mean that in a bad way. I mean, I guess we’re all broken to some degree. And like anyone else, it’s good to be around people I can relate to.
I took my drill back home this morning. I thought about taking apart my bed: when to do it, whether I should sell it or store it or take it with me.
I thought about what Becky’s wedding dress is going to look like.
A former roommate is staying the week with us. As she headed toward the door to leave, she stopped in the entryway and I poked my head out of the bedroom. She told me she loved me, and that it was good to see me, then she closed the door behind her, and maybe I cried a little bit.
I thought once I could cry until I ran out of tears.
I can’t run out of tears.