Sleep-talk

I don't generally get very personal with these blogs, but I'm pretty sure that's just because I don't want to embarrass myself. The truth is, I am a very emotional person, and when I don't write about the things that I think really matter, I believe I do myself and everyone else a disservice (if you consider it a 'service' that I share my thoughts with you). And of course you do.

So, last time I wrote about nuclear power. I don't care a bit about that, really. I care about the circumstances that kept me from writing my blog at all last semester. I care about what happened to the hope and insight that my best friend told me had left the words of my letters. I care about how to get them back. I care about trying to deal with the fact that I should no longer be in love with someone who is about to be engaged. I care that my life has more dramatic irony than I want responsibility to handle, and wonder why I am proud of it at the same time. I care about the sad truth that I have still not called an old friend whose mother died of cancer several months ago. I care that I see myself in others, and yet find myself unwilling to be empathetic in spite of it. I care that my parents don't know a whit of this. And I don't care that this entry lacks details, eloquence, and optimism. Well, no, I do care about that too.

Some of this just needs to be said, like my worries that subconsciously spill out when I talk in my sleep. I wonder how often that really happens, it's hard to know. I regret that these important things usually only creep out in my sleep-talk in the night, in my single room for no one to hear, including me, and that they stay there.