“Change” is not in my vocabulary, at least not when it is attempted to be implemented from a source other than myself. My stubbornness in this sense is not my best quality; however, I have always believed that if someone chooses to care about me, they care about me. The “me” that has two best friends, one of which is a boy other than my boyfriend (Oh, how the world likes to share it’s opinion about that!). The “me” that would rather lay in bed and watch Friends all day then do anything remotely productive. The “me” that tries so damn hard to see both sides of an argument but struggles to do so when the other person hardly has the same courtesy.
And the “me” that can’t follow the simple rule of writing a blog/column…”don’t use the word ‘I.’” I’m (there it is again) supposed to relate to people, make them care about reading what I’m writing about. If by some strange off chance you have come to this page expecting something profound, I have not lived to your expectations.
But isn’t falling short of expectations something we can all relate to?
Oh well.
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