Mopiness and Whininess

John came to me in my dreams last night and told me to sleep on his shoulder. So I did and I finally slept pretty well, if not for very long. ... But waking up alone was so much harder. It's all I can do, you guys. I'm living one minute to the next. My letter to him is approaching novel-length and I'm just waiting for an address to send it to. I hate being unable to contact him. I knew it would be this way, though. It's difficult to suddenly be alone. At school it's a little weird because I can't hang out with single people and for some annoying reason married people only want to do couple stuff. (Yay for another dimension in which I don't fit.) At least I have my fossils to take my mind off of things. (Thank you dear crinoids.) I was surprised with how alright I was right after Johnny left, and now I realize it just gets heavier with time. It's hard to care about things - school, church, anything. I realize that with him gone no one needs me. And I know that I'm the one that always shuts people out. I'm always fine and I don't need anything. I'm exactly like my dad. So many people told me that this would be just like when Johnny went on a mission for our religion. It's not like that at all. I was 18 before and I lived with other people and I hadn't gotten used to being around him all the time. (He's a human antidepressant. Everyone's happier around him.) And I miss things I hadn't even processed about him. Like tucking him in after he falls asleep. And how dirty he makes the sink when he washes his hands after work. His sneezing (which happened a few times a day at least). His falling asleep all the time. The little lists of stuff to eat he'd make me when I was hungry and putting off eating. The clicking of the Nintendo controller. The odd ways he flirts with me. The songs he always finds for me and tells me the words are about us. And I have so much homework and I can't focus on it. Hell, breathing is harder without him, how can I find a derivative? (I'm still not sure what a derivative is!) But, I'm making it. I know I am smart enough to do this. And I work hard. Maybe it gets a little easier in time. Maybe soon I'll stop thinking I heard him call my name from the kitchen. And I'll stop reaching out for him in my sleep. And listening for his key in the door. I can't even cook. I've eaten only fast food and frozen food since he left. I let all the ingredients we'd had to make our last dinner together go bad in the fridge because I couldn't bear to make it alone. But I will make myself cook soon. Just like I force myself to do my homework even though I couldn't care less. I will be happy during this time. I refuse to have a mopey whiny 20 weeks. (Side note: I apologize for the mopiness and whininess of this post, by the by.)

So, there we go. I've tried to be fine, but I'm not fine and it's okay. And I will be more than fine soon. Trust me.