On mushy mushiness and school-related nightmares

"You know", Pony said, "I was skeptical. Really skeptical about this whole relationship in the beginning. But I look at you and you're so relaxed and happy, and it's so wonderful to see. I'm so happy for you."


Hemingway's leaving for a week in the States tomorrow morning. Before that he moved his stuff to my place, where he'll stay until he's gotten his apartment situation sorted. I really enjoy that he seems to be fitting in so well with Pony and G, and how at home he seems here. I love having him around, even if it leaves very little time for quiet activities such as gaming, reading or blogging. I'll be back to my daily routine now, at least until Saturday, promise.

We rounded off the evening with a chilly barbeque, Warm Bodies and ice cream with pop rocks on it, and I was just so happy. It's not just that I'm happy about Hemingway treating me better than I think anyone I've ever dated has ever treated me, and probably better than I deserve, but also that I've been open about my feelings and honest, felt safe to do so. I like looking at him - from the way he and Pony chased around with sticky marshmallow on their fingers, to having dinner with his friend before Eurovision, to hanging out in the bathtub together - I just find him more and more attractive. To quote the wonderful John Green: "That smile could end wars and cure cancer." I'm sorry if this is coming off unbelievably mushy to you silent readers, but it's the way I feel. I wish I could bring him with me when Pony, G and I go to Greece in a few weeks for a ten day vacation. Generally I'm a person with a pretty enormous need of space, but I've managed to spend almost every day of these past three weeks Hemingway and still be happy. Pony told him she's never seen me act like this with anyone ever, which made me crawl into my scarf to hide out of embarrassment, but she's right.



I had the weirdest dream about school, in which my teachers barely gave me a passing grade, and I yelled at them until I was hoarse and then had to escape the inescapable school, that had suddenly become a grey industrial version of my building. It was horrible, and I woke up feeling sad about it. I don't want to feel sad about what I've done, but I feel incapable of judging it objectively right now. I find it horrible, probably because I've worked my brain into a mushy pulp about it. I'm dreading the teacher meeting on Wednesday when they'll tell us our grade and talk about the year. Absolutely terrifying. But hey, this'll be over soon enough.