#walkerb

closed. i actually cannot sleep if they are open.

no, hotel shampoo is gross. and very rarely organic and whatnot.

i don't actually have sheets, i sleep with a quilt year round.

yes.

not really.

It seriously breaks my heart that Elijah Wood and Benedict Cumberbatch smoke.

I’m so seriously afraid of overdosing on medication, it took me until about three years ago to take an adult dose of regular strength Tylenol.

I have at least two ghosts living in my house.

Lust:  Something that I find attractive.

Intelligence and comedy. I can't help but like smart, hilarious people.

Sloth: Something that I dislike about myself.

who do you miss the mosti don't think it's hard to guess my answer -- colin.

because of my dad's career, i've spent my entire life moving around. i've left countless of schools, friends, boyfriends, crushes, languages, countries, best friends, homes...only to end up somewhere new. to go through it all over again. when somebody asks about my past and i'm trying to figure out the timeline, i don't think of my age -- i think of where i was living at the time. so there are a lot of people that i miss. 

so i've gotten used to that loss over the years. i've learned to accept it. to embrace it. to expect it. i've failed to cry every single time i've left some place. it's never a surprise -- it's never something new. i learned to accept it for what it was and guard myself against that pain. 

but colin...he surprised me. i was ready to let him go when he graduated a year before me. i thought he was just going to be some silly crush that never panned out during my junior year of high school. but then...somehow...amazingly we worked things out. and we became a couple. and it was amazing! but it was long distance, and every time we parted colin cried. but i didn't. not when we said goodbye when i was leaving for the states. not when we were parting and hadn't managed to get back together yet. not when i was leaving and we didn't know if we would ever see each other again. because...in my mind, it was always something to be expected. i always assumed "this is it. we won't make it past this." so why bother crying? 

but it's been three years now since we got together. four and a half since i first noticed him in the library. and he somehow, miraculously, wormed his way into my heart. and this past december when i was leaving london to come back home i did something i haven't in forever -- i cried. i didn't only cry, i sobbed. i broke down in tears in the airport lobby and didn't stop crying. i went through security with tears streaming down my face. i got on the plane and i kept crying. i wrote in my journal and i stained the pages with my tears. and when i got home to the states and i got in bed? i cried some more. 

because it's impossible for me now. it's so hard living so far away from him. this is nothing new -- we've been separated by the atlantic ocean for the majority of our relationship. and yet now, that ocean? suddenly seems too large. and for the first time in my life i'm not thinking that it's a sure thing that we're not going to make it. because for the first time, i'm being one of those ridiculously naive college girls pinning all their hopes on the boy they're with. you know those girls? i judge them. all the time. i seem them with the boy they've been dating for a few months proclaiming their love on facebook and talking about marriage and shit and i think 'god, how stupid are they?', but here i am. and maybe i'm not thinking about marriage, and maybe i'm not thinking ten years in the future -- but i am thinking about whether or not he'll make it to my sister's wedding in october. and if i should apply for jobs in london after i graduate from university.

i miss him. but i love him and he loves me. and we make it work.

ahaha sorry it took me so long...My oh my, how my blood boils, it's sweet taste for you,

strips me down bareand gets me into my favorite moodI keep on trying, fighting these feelings away,but the more I do,the crazier I turn into.

And yes... it's going to be Spuffy.

  Spike stared at the sweater in his hands, mentally berating himself even as he stroked the soft pink fabric. He asked himself how he could be so stupid, so incredibly insane, that he would actually break into the Slayer's house and steal one of her sweaters while she and her boy toy were out on a date. He cringed at the idea of another man touching his Slayer. If he had blood, it would boil, no vaporize, at the thought. He shook his head like a dog getting rid of water, and moved to put the sweater back in her closet. He couldn't feel like this about her. It was wrong and sick and against everything he ever wanted. He loved Drusilla, evil and insane and dark, not Buffy, who was herself a force of goodness, and angel who could never and would never love him back.