I'm sitting here wondering why I'm so hung up on whether anyone reads these or not. I mean, it's my journal and it's not about that anyway. This is here for me to vent. To feel things and let them pour out onto a page so that my soul is unburdened enough for me to eventually sleep.
But some small part of me wants to be reassured. Sometimes I'd like to know if anyone cares about the way that I feel.
This is the worst part of moving out on my own, you know? Not having someone there who constantly cares. I feel so very needy and this may seem pathetic. I feel like maybe modeling feeds into this. It's not a real job. It's an occupation where all you have to worry about is how pretty you look. Everyone is there solely for you. I go to a shoot and there are dozens of people milling around, with nothing to bother with beyond you and your needs. This has spoiled me, maybe. I don't remember being this way. I'm not sure that I like it.
I miss my mother. sigh. But I don't really want to call her and tell her that. I'm trying to act like a big girl when I'm much too young to try. I am not cut out for this. Not yet. Meh. I sure don't miss the rules :) and her sometimes overbearing ways. But I miss the girl talk. I miss the unasked for baurty tips. And mostly I miss the security and the hugs that only moms can give.
I did meet a boy. A boy. eep. He's just so everything that I thought that boys were supposed to be until I started dating. Right now he's just a boy. So I won't jinx it by talking about him too much. He makes me happier than I have been lately. And my god do I want to kiss him.
I still need a vaca. How 'bout it Emmy?