After not living here for almost a month, King Street doesn’t feel like home anymore. It’s quite disorienting. It’s my place with my stuff and all that, but it doesn’t fully feel like it. Somewhat, yes, but not entirely. This is what I get for living in several different places. I don’t know if I can count Harrow anymore, since I don’t think I’ll be living there anytime soon, if ever again. That itself is a disconcerting thought, but I’ve known for quite a while that it was not the place for me and that I couldn’t stay there. I love it, but living there for the rest of my life would have killed me. I can’t just stay in one spot with the same people all the time. There’s no personal growth that way. Nothing changes. That’s not living. It’s existing.

I’m feeling unneccessarily nervous about this doctor’s appointment. Which is silly. It’s just to talk to the doctor and get some bloodwork done. No big deal at all. But good luck getting my brain to believe that one. It’s been so long since I’ve had routine blood tests that I’m not sure how I’ll deal with them. Needles don’t bother me, but I hate that first uncomfortable prick. For a while there I was so used to it that I didn’t care anymore, but now that’s all I can think about.

A distraction from worrying about other things maybe? Like Chantal. And my grandma. And September. God, I have to stop worrying about such things. I can’t do anything about them. It’s a waste of time and energy to be freaking out over everything all the time.

Like worrying about hurting Dean. I’m not going to hurt him, and if I ever was he’d tell me. So why do I worry about that so much? Sheesh. I’m so unreasonable sometimes. I guess in some ways I’m still adjusting to being with another person, and I don’t want to wreck it. I feel so lucky for having Dean though. He’s so perfect for me. Everything just fits. I want to be with him all the time. That gets me worrying about whether or not he has enough personal space, or if he minds not being around other people as much as he’s around me. If I’m taking up too much of his time. I do realize that people need personal space. Living in residence taught me that one.

I wonder what we’re going to do next month? I’m still just realizing how close that is. I really am looking forward to it. But still try not to think about it. I miss everyone too much. Lately it does make me cry. That feels really weird too, because I almost never cry. Though I think it might be a good thing. That I’m letting myself admit what I am feeling instead of hiding it.

I still wonder why I didn’t cry at my pippi’s funeral. I’ll probably forever wonder about that one. I think my outlook on that was such that I didn’t need to, but it’s still strange.

Writing this is exhausting me. It’s time to get ready for the doctor’s anyway. I’ll figure stuff out eventually.