The other day one of my friends said, “I guess you’re turning into one of those girls that gets married and never hangs out with her single friends anymore.” It was like someone took a potato peeler to my flesh, poured lemon juice over the wounds and then lit me on fire.
I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t think I’m that girl. Am I? Maybe I am. Oh man. That sucks if I am. I kinda almost think that if this is the case, it has more to do with starting a new job and being in the midst of a house buying fiasco for the past 3 months (2 more days until “Operation Purchase”). Those have kept me busy.
Plus, when I get stressed, I tend to retreat into my turtle shell (ninja turtle shell, that is). J.D. Salinger has used this coping technique for many a year, so I figured it’s good enough for me. Then again, he also wrote Catcher in the Rye, a fairly angsty book that many famous killers had on hand during the crime. I just write this blog. If you’re reading it, and you feel like killing someone, STOP! Don’t do it! Especially if it’s me.
So, if you’re one of my friends that has written me off the list since I don’t hang out with you anymore, I certainly apologize. It has nothing to do with you (well, it might), and nothing to do with Brandon. It’s just that I’ve recently redecorated the inside of the shell, and it’s oh so soothing in here (and it’s got DVR). I’d invite you in to see, but defense mechanisms don’t work that way.
