this heart

So, just to give you an idea of what my life is like at this exact moment, I am sitting in front of my computer in my boxers and t-shirt. My hair is loose; if I don't wash it, I'll smell like barbecue and, uh, failure, kind of. I am listening to Carrie Underwood. You guys. What happened.

No, seriously, besides being a little hung over (which was totally my fault--four drinks would probably not have close-to-floored me if I had drunk even one glass of water in yesterday's ninety-degree heat), my life is really, really good. Weird, right? I spent four years pretty much hating life, and now...everything just kind of fell into place. I'm not, like, blissfully happy, but I swear to you, I was walking down Ballard Ave in my cute new dress (orange! Even orange looks good on me lately!) and my feet hurt and it was so hot that I was getting that nasty underboob sweat--ladies, you know what I'm talking about--and I had a lot on my mind, but I just felt good, and not in that I AM FEELING VERY GOOD EVERYBODY way, where you smile all the time and, I don't know, sing with joy or whatever. I just feel...good.

And then I remember what today is.

Today is the memorial for a childhood friend who recently killed himself. I've talked about him a lot with friends and family, and I don't really want to talk about it anymore; stories like this are always much too long, and much too personal. It's not my place to talk about it, either, because we sort of lost touch as the years passed, and hey, you know what people say about regrets? That's mine.