I had a different entry planned out, but I have to write this instead. To get this feeling down before I lose it.

It’s hard to tell what the feeling is exactly. Happiness? Worry? Maybe a mix of both. I only know that I’m nervous, like I’m out on a limb, waiting for it to snap. Things have never gone this well for long.

Life has finally settled. I have the house to myself. I’m single. I don’t have to worry about what my parents do or think. I’m on a regular schedule, with only Tai Chi lessons on Saturday mornings. Other than that, I fill my time how I please, which currently involves a lot of Pikmin 2 and phone-calls with John or Bronwen.

With this new-found stability, I venture into the outside world to socialize. A while ago I watched Fearless with Aaron. Pat and Jen treated me to dinner and Borat last week. Sunday, I cooked Bronwen and her parents a Chinese lunch. Next Tuesday I’m going to the 2006 Legends Classic tour to catch up with Jeff, my old floormate from first year. Soon it’ll be Trolley’s housewarming party, along with all the other holiday events.

I’m initiating everything. In the past, I would never be the one making plans.

Four years ago I wrote that guilty pleasures aren’t so guilty anymore. I’m back to this feeling again. What a strange cycle. I’m starting to feel like I deserve to be happy.

I can feel myself getting giddy again, but I have to question if it’s all a little fake. If it’s a mask for my nervousness. I probably won’t be able to tell for a while, so I’m just trying to enjoy it.

Another transitionary phase.

God, I’m fucking exhausted. The day was a mix of nervousness. Partly shy, partly anxious, partly caffeinated. People testing me, people appreciating me, people who call me brother.

As much as I’ve grown, as far as I’ve come, there are still things that are difficult to do.

All I want to do now is write, but I’m too tired. Life is moving at a quickened pace. I came here to vent, but all I’ve done is barely scratch the surface. Oddly enough, I still feel better. I think of calling John, but I hear him explaining my thoughts to me, in my head, and suddenly, everything makes sense.

It’s like Louise and cuts. When getting a cut, her first instinct is that it hurts, but when she realizes that they’re supposed to hurt (what I see as the nature of perfection), they cease to hurt.

Promised myself I’d be in bed by nine, but my nervousness has made me too jittery to sleep.

“Poignant”, he said, just as I was thinking the word, and it made me realize that if there’s one thing I do try to be, it’s poignant. I don’t know why. Perhaps it shows good communication. Perhaps there’s mental relief in knowing that one is not alone, that others can understand and may feel the same way.