25 March, 2010

goodnight, my someone

99.9 percent of the time, I am happy to be young-ish; in fact, I dread turning twenty.  ("But your twenties are supposed to be the best years!" My friend Emily argues. "You get married and finish college and get a cool job in your twenties.  You're independent!" "Yeah," I say grumpily, "It's also the years of tax forms by yourself! And insurance forms! And yucky decisions!") But, every so often, I feel a tiny desire to be older and married.  When I read books like A Severe Mercy, I can't help wishing I had such a deep friendship with someone.  To be "two star-crossed lovers".  Minus dying.   I'm sort of in one of those moments right now.
Jeez Louise, I'm just soppy about everything these days! What is going on, Kelsey?  Hormones?  Too much chai tea caffeine late at night? What? This recent excess of sentimentality is worrying me.  I am not normally like this - at ALL.  Next thing I know, I'll be watching the Love Comes Softly movies while clutching tissues and a box of oreos.  Well, actually, I will never sink that low.  I made a pact with the above-mentioned Emily - if I ever so much as think "the Love Comes Softly movies are good" she has promised to shoot me.

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