I pressed three clovers, two butter cups, and three purple unidentified flowers in my new journal. It makes me happy to look at them. It reminds me that my old journal is practically full. Of course, I'm talking about a real, paper journal. Not this mess of pixels and data. Dan asked me what I write about in my journal. Everything. What is there not to write? Generally, I write a bit less in my real journal. But I have hard copies of Mary Commentary.

Okay, swear to the heavens, I have nothing to write about y'all... Truth is, my mind is on Miguel. I cringe to write this, because he might read it... And maybe that's not the way I wanna talk about it. But it is my journal. I'll write whatever I damn well please.

I wish it could be how it was before we even talked about his leaving. Or, I wish we wouldn't broach the subject at all. Anything inbetween has me feeling sticky. Of course, there is going to be inbetween. There has to be. You can just jump off a plane and into a relationship. Especially one thats been dead/dormant/ pretty much nonexistent for four months. So, I know that even though I'm wishing that it could just be like it was, it's not going to be. We need to talk about it... I need to think with my head. He needs to come over so we can go out for coffee and talk about it, geez...

I gotta go to work...