Number 35.

It has been a long time since I have written on this blog.  I don't really know what to say.  Things have changed.  I don't feel like such a nomad anymore.  I've been here in Michigan for almost a year and a half, and no one has said anything about moving.  They don't even want to travel to Louisiana for Christmas.  It looks like the family of nomads has finally found a home.

Knock on wood.

I remember saying the same thing in Georgia right before I started ninth grade.  And look what happened.  As soon as the standard two years was up, guess who showed up?  Relocation.  That word is my mortal enemy.  I hear it and I cringe.  I see the trucks and I cry.  Fuck you, relocation.

But all good things have to end, right?

Lookie there, I can make it sound optimistic.  I'm good at that.  But there's an element of sarcasm to my words.  I wouldn't be surprised if another six months passed and my father told me and my sister and mother, "Oh, they offered me the job and we're going to Los Angeles!"  Because he will do "what is ultimately best for this family" no matter what my opinion is on the issue, because he doesn't care anyway.

So there.  That's my biggest fear on this whole damn earth.  I'm not afraid of dying.  I'm not afraid of being alone.  I'm not even afraid of the dark.  I'm afraid of starting over yet again.

I don't want to leave.  Things just got good.  A few months ago, when I felt like digging a hole and burying myself in it, I just kept chugging because I knew I owed it to someone.  That someone may not be my parents or my brother and sister, or even my closest friend, but I knew it had to be someone.  And I may not be right, but I think I may have found them.

Again, knock on wood.

With my luck, even this good thing will end.  But I sure as hell hope it doesn't.  I like him.  I think I love him.  He is the greatest thing that has happened to me since I moved here.  That sounds a little cliche that a boy is the greatest thing that has happened to me.  It makes me sound like a real girl.  But I feel like he is.  He likes me for who I am and not what I look like, mostly.  Ha ha.  Anyway, he's legit and I really really like him.

The moral of all this babbling is to just keep going until the going gets good.  Keep your fears at the back of your mind and just live your life.  If I woke up every morning thinking that I only six more months to live here, I wouldn't do much of anything but feel sorry for myself and cry all the time.  I'd fall apart, and I just got myself back together from the last breakdown.

So I wake up every morning with the (possibly false) knowledge that I will be living here in Michigan until I graduate.  I just don't think about the "possibly false" part.  I try to keep things in perspective and remember that no one has said anything about interviews or Los Angeles or anything else.  The doubt is there in the back of my mind, but every morning I tell that part of my mind to shut the fuck up and let me live.

Anyway.  I just don't know right now.  My thoughts and emotions are all weird and I feel funny.

I think it is depressing music/stare at nothing time.  Possibly read, or write some cliche love story to get my mind off depressing shit.

I just thought I was getting better.

As always,
Jules, the High School Nomad.