I love to ramble.

Another day passed by, and not sure what to make of it.

Woke up after another restless night, although I managed to fall into a deeper sleep later in the morning, and slept in until 11 something. I woke up feeling much more rested, had a shower, and then answered a knock on my door--my sister coming over to help clean out my second bedroom.

As, you see, she will be moving into that room, probably this coming weekend. We cleared out a garbage ball full of stuff, moved out my bookshelf, and now I must simply organize through all my papers and get this computer desk moved out into the living room.

How do I feel about having someone else live with me now? A little bit safer and more at ease, although now more aware of the fact that I can't have any potential boys over in case she hear some noise or see something.

But altogether I am happy about the decision, although it feels unreal. I can't believe I will be having her living with me in the next seven days, and that we will be grocery shopping together and sharing the shower and bathroom...so much change in such a short amount of time. It's almost unbelievable/hard for me to take in.

So I'm sitting here and listening to "Time" by Hans Zimmer, a piece of music from Inception, and am not sure what else to say.

Guys..always on my mind. I think about them all the time, although no specific one. I think about how I'd like to roll around with them in a bed, and kiss their beautiful lips and strong necks, run my hands through their hair and explore their bodies like a cartographer etching out a map. It's true enough--with regards to very certain things, once you start down that road, it's impossible to turn back up it or to rewind back to a time where you have never grabbed onto someone, held onto them as if for dear life, and kissed them so hard you gasp for breath after.

There's something about physical intimacy and longing...desire is what seems to embody us. We all desire different things, and I'm starting see and believe that along with love and hate, desire is as inherent to us as the need for water and food.

Mother Theresa said that people are dying lack of food, but all over the world even more are dying for a little bit of love.

Anyway, desire and love are two different things (as I have quickly learned recently) so let me not get into a tangent about love, but lust and wanting someone is so easy. Actually, wanting anything is just easy. My parents have always taught me that desire and lust are wrong because it's just giving into what you want, and sometimes that means disregarding the harmful consequences that can follow.

I guess they're right to some extent...but I also feel that since I've repressed those things for so long, now they're just screaming to get out.

(For some reason my left thumb is burning and has been doing so for the past couple hours. My body really is falling apart.)

But other than the moving things out of the bedroom and the moving things out of my world perspective, not much else has happened. Sister and I (I shall call her "S" for her own anonymity and as that is her initial) went to a second hand store to see if we could find any bookshelves or filing cabinets, but no luck. We stopped by Walmart briefly to get a card for my brother (who turned 19 today), and then we went to a cafe and talked briefly while I drank a chai latte and she drank a smoothie.

Sometimes doing those things, I realize, 'Wow this is it...this is what adults do. I'm officially an adult', and that always startles me for some reason. Maybe I live my life acting like a child, or maybe I am too babied, but it does surprise me that I do what I want and I go where I want...That's the beauty of being an independent adult. "S" will quickly realize that when she moves out this weekend.

And something else. I was browsing through Facebook recently (two days ago to be precise) and I stumbled across a friend I have on my Facebook that never updates their Facebook, so they never show up on my feed, lalala...just one of those people you have as a friend that you forget about.

Except I'm surprised I've "forgotten" about him, considering that just over a year ago I spent hours crying and diagnosing our friendship, praying and hoping that he would consider me to be more than a friend, hoping that one day I would be good looking enough for him, convinced that we were a perfect match. I literally did spend hours crying over him, as he took my heart and played with it, lifting me high up and then crashing down to the very bottom.

Here he is in this new profile picture, with his girlfriend...they've been dating for a few months now, and he looks just as wonderful and handsome as before, and I sit here and stare at the picture for a few seconds, and a tear somehow just drops down my cheek. I'm surprised to feel the wetness on my face, because I was so sure that it meant nothing any more, that he faded into the past, along with all the other guys that I've freely handed my heart to, only to be so hurt and broken after.

Do we ever really heal?