sick, tired and grumpy.

The worst trifecta in the world has hit. I woke up this morning with a sore throat and drainage that I know I got from Derek. To his credit, he did penance by making a quick run to Albertson’s to buy me cough drops and threw in an orange Gatorade because he is smart and also kinder than I deserve.

And my mom is getting on my nerves, because like a good daughter I told her I was sick and she starts getting mommish, as I might say to her. In fairness, it is probably out of frustration over the fact that she can’t be here to take care of me, but I almost don’t appreciate the motherly mandates to REST REST REST when I have a German test to study for, roommates to clean up after, laundry to do, the stats homework from yesterday’s blog that I’m stressing about, econ homework, a test in my business intro class on Monday, hymns to practice for next Sunday at the Lutheran church, and probably something else that I’ve forgotten about. And in addition to being sick, yesterday Kailyn made me go lift with her, so my poor legs, new as they are to the throes of this kind of working out, are noodly and there is a very sore spot back of my neck where a heavy bar had never been before last night.

Speaking of roommates who don’t clean up after themselves, it’s no worse than the usual mess of a bunch of college kids living together, but it’s kind of hard to wash your dishes when somebody else’s are filling the sink. And it’s not that hard to take out the trash or recycle your bottles and cans, and I will not be the one to take other people’s care package boxes down to the recycling room. I just dislike being the one who can stand the gross trash for the shortest amount of time, because it often results in my taking it out, and I would like to not have to one of these weeks. After all, there are four of us living here. I am willing to say honestly that we each of us contribute about 25% of the mess. Thus, I am not okay with the fact that I’m doing about 75% of the cleanup.

I’m also struggling with letters. I sent one off the other day to Minnesota Guy and it’s too early to panic there, naturally, but Hannah’s letter is making me panicky and wonder if I should (a) ask her about it (b) just write another one and send it (c) just write another one and NOT send it and keep doing this and collect them and publish them as a book. Or (d) not write one at all. But I want to.

I reread that above paragraph and thought of Mr. Bird’s profile. He said something about letters. “I really enjoy that extension of writing that’s for an individual audience that’s almost certain to read it – I’m assuming,” he added smilingly. “Not many people write back – people don’t write letters much anymore.”

This makes me sad because if I got a letter from Mr. Bird I’d sure as hell write back. (That’s a thought.) But it’s true – not many people write back.

Fuckity ugh.

I love Hannah very much and I don’t want our friendship to be over. But writing her letters has proved rather unfulfilling and I’m not sure how much longer I want to do it without at least an acknowledgement.

Which, of course, brings us back to the question of, do I continue to love if I know my love is being received, but not in the way I want it? I bet Hannah enjoys it when my letters arrive – but does she ever write back? Once. And I don’t like that, and I don’t know if it should matter to me or not.

Derek and I are texting and he just asked if I knew whether or not she got it, and when I said no, he said, “Well just ask her then.”

I want to make excuses but it’s so simple.

Something occurred to me. I have another friend who is rather like Hannah in that she doesn’t communicate for days on end. But I don’t feel the same about Helena’s communicative habits as I do about Hannah’s. Perhaps because I see Hannah muddling about on the internet during the intervening time and get offended because none of that time is devoted to me?

This is not making me look like a very nice person.

Well, I messaged Hannah to ask if she ever got my letter, and we’ll see where that goes. I don’t know if Hannah will ever change her ways, and frankly, I doubt it – although I blatantly disagree with the conjecture that her infrequency of communication makes it that much sweeter when she does communicate. I’d listen to Hannah if she texted me twenty times a day and I’d do it gladly. I say that, I suppose, despite not knowing that for certain because of course it’s never happened.

But still.

I see those things on the internet once in a while which say “Don’t trust the person who never texts you back but always has their phone in their hand.”

I don’t know. I have a sometime theory that she doesn’t respond to me because she thinks I can get along without her. I dislike this because I think I should be allowed to need her, and sometimes I do. I don’t want to stop needing her. I love her.

I don’t get it.

And it’s not that I don’t have other people who love me. I do. And I know who they are. And I love them too. All of them (none of that ignoring the people who love you for the ones you love here). I just struggle with Hannah’s love. If that’s what it is, because I am beginning to wonder.

Of course, there’s another possibility, and that is that Hannah is changing into someone she doesn’t want to share with me. That could be for a lot of reasons (politics, perhaps?) but still, it makes me feel like a fucking bucket of shit to think that one of the people I love best in the world is actually afraid that I will judge her for whatever-it-is, and then I wonder if I’ve done something wrong in the way I show love.

I’m a disastrous mess today, in case you can’t tell.

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