Packing.

It was, is, and will forever be a bitch.
I believe this fact so much,
I'm willing to have it on my gravestone.

My room is a disaster.
Don't believe me?
It's true.

I'm trying to be proactive about this whole packing situation, though.
You see, the last time I moved, I was 4 years old.
I managed to escape the hassle of squeezing as many things as possible to as few boxes as possible.

I'm gritting my teeth and making my way through the necessary hassle.
Facebook breaks and Glee CD's blaring on repeat are really helping me out.
We'll ignore the fact that I'll have to sleep on the couch tonight, though, since there's no way my bed will be cleared off in the next few hours.
If anything, more crap will accumulate on it.



But, as apparent, I'm in a much better mood.
I think everyone can tell.
The bitch phase, for now, is over.
I credit the fact that tomorrow is my 1 month anniversary with the boy.
That sounds so lame to say.
1 month.
That's nothing.
Every relationship should experience a one month.

But hey - this is a stepping stone.
We're going to take this soon-to-be long-distance relationship one day, week, month at a time.
We're going to make this work.


I could ramble on about more college things,
But the boy is texting me,
And I have boxes to pack.

Until next time.