Well, It's been a hard, long week. I found a man, I spent enough time with him that I'm interested, I performed four plays, two dress rehearsals, did three different renditions of a tango, got addicted to coffee, weird sexual positions, explored the same sex and my tendencies towards them, discovered my old self, recreated my new self, celebrated and mourned the same thing, and slept two nights in a row with the same man, in the same place.
This has been the most eventful week of my life.
Tomorrow, I leave the man, my old self, the tango, the musical and all that behind in Hamilton for a month to do rugby at school.
I question my sanity.
I question all of everyone who's letting me go. Are we all a bunch of masochists?
Well, I learned this week that, really: Yes, I am. But only with certain someones and in certain ways. I don't like being pinched for biting my nails, but my bruises are very obvious.
Hips, neck, and scratch marks on my back.
I must be.
*sigh*
I will be back, I know it. Soon. Once a month, every month. Religiously. You could say that I was the werewolf of Trent University.
I'm officially leaving.
This will be the hardest thing I've ever done.
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