Tahoe is sitting on my lap, I'm typing around him. He's pretty cute, giving me puppy kisses ( which consist of him blowing air in my face, when I blow air in his), and cuddling.
He's a life savor. This morning has a parade of pathetic.
A strange thought occurred to me as a traipsed down to the stadium lot this morning in want of my shiny black Oscar. It was bright, sunny. Windy, and glacial. The thought...
I'm not good at being me. I can't really explain what I mean, as it's all subjective and swirling around with no aim inside my aching noggin. I just keep feeling like.. I'm more then this.
But day by day goes by.. and I'm not more then anything I was the day before. Just the same person. Same problems. Same routine. Same whatever.
I keep thinking it'll happen. I guess it's because I keep looking for it.
Maybe looking for it is the problem, but is it so bad that I'd like to find some real personal happiness. Is it so bad that instead of cheering and being so happy for everyone else that I try and find something that makes me happy, because it's for me? I don't know. I guess that's pride right.
I'd like to be chosen. Chosen first, and not picked last.