Feeling alone is believing there isn't anyone to turn to. Feeling lonely is wishing there was.
It's Kevin and I's (how the hell do you say that? I am horrible at grammar. Kevin and mine? Kevin and myself's?) 8-month anniversary today. We hadn't noticed until we started discussing how everyone (namely our mothers, repeatedly) kept asking if were still together.
Huh. 8 months.
I have to go get MORE blood leeched from me tomorrow. To answer questions asked before: It's because I have PCOS [PolyCystic Ovarian Syndrome] and they're figuring out what dosage of what medicines should be stuffed into my gaping maw each day via pills. The stuff I'll probably be taking is something akin to a low-dose birth control pill and possibly something to make my body more sensitive to insulin. My mom thinks they'll make me all shiny and happy because they seem to have done so for Nicole, so here's hoping. The insulin-sensitizing thing also ought to help me lose weight (and that is always appreciated). The blood-leeching means I can have no food or water after midnight, probably not until 11 AM tomorrow. You might not think that's a problem, but try giving your body about 4-5 liters of water a day every day for a long time, then suddenly witholding any and all liquids for almost 12 hours. Body does not react in a happy manner. Well, mine, anyway. Eh. I'm not a wimp about needles or anything, at least (I stared at my arm as blood leaked out of me last time and played with the vials to watch the blood slosh around. I think I weirded the nurse out a bit).
WANT. Want OH SO BADLY.