hope full.
i can now say with a lot of certainty that there is a significant difference in walking home alone when you have someone that really likes you, and walking home along when you don’t.
i know that my thought process is all fucked up, and i’m supposed to be all, on to the next, there are plenty more fish in the sea, instead of looks like i’m back on track to die alone, but i’ve just never been that much of an optimist when it comes to love.
did anyone see last week’s episode of 30 rock, where liz ended her relationship, started wearing a fanny pack, and got a cat and named her emily dickinson? that’s kind of how i feel — only my fanny pack is metallic gold, and i have a dog named carrie bradshaw. that’s better, right?
