I'm getting sick again.
Bio test, English project.
A lot of OJ and fruit snacks.
5 minutes power naps during class.
And I want Leland James to come home.
Of course not early.
I just want to be with him.
Because I miss him a WHOOLLE lot.
And I love him even more than that.
But I got a letter today.
Sometimes I love the letter thing, because I feel as though it is a lost art-- One that is lost in facebook, texting, email, and perhaps even the telephone. There's just something about opening an envelope that you know the person you love sealed for you; the handwriting that is so perfectly their own, the smell of the paper that was once flattened by their palms (okay, that sounded a bit creepy...); the utter CLOSENESS you can feel to that person, even though you are miles and miles away. It's astounding.
THAT is why I BAWLED my eyes out while watching Knights of Rodanthe at home, on my laptop, in my bed, a week or so ago. (Yes, I am kind of a loser; however, I actually had quite the good time with myself, my laptop, that video, and my dark chocolate M&Ms. Plus, I could cry about a stupid chick flick, and I didn't have to be embarassed because there were 12 other people watching it with me, NOT crying. Except now I feel like a goob because I just confessed my personal emotions displayed while watching a somewhat cheesy, somewhat ridiculous, chick flick. Gross.)
So today I got a letter. And I was very happy to receive that letter. (TRUST me.) However, perhaps because of my severe lack of sleep this week, or maybe I can attribute it to my approaching illness, or maybe some stress due to much homework and very little time--after reading and opening the letter, I became somewhat irked at the letter in my hand. Well, maybe not the actual LETTER, but rather, the IDEA of the letter. The fact that the person I love more than anything is thousands of miles away, and I miss him so much that sometimes I just want to crawl in a hole and hibernate until August comes rolling around. I became annoyed at the fact that I don't know what his life is like, really. Just little bits and pieces. I became annoyed that I was annoyed, and couldn't call him up to talk to him about it.
And then I just got a little sad at myself.
Sad because Lj's mission might be the best thing that has ever happened to us-- individually AND as a couple. I am so grateful for his willingness to serve. For his goodness. For the person he is. And then I realized that my annoyance wasn't really annoyance-- but rather, exhaustion. I'm just ready for him to be home.
Here's to 5 months.
And this cute boy:
P.S. I'm sorry I don't have the time, or energy to write well anymore. This blog has pretty much become my not-so-regular, thought-vomit, internet database. I suppose I should consider changing its title to something more appropriate...
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