I'm sitting in my boyfriend's bed, atop his ripped 600 count sapphire colored thread sheets and tangled in an old, patched quilt. Blowing in my face is an old heater that we found in the basement that smells like forest fire, and hitting me from the side is the draft through his thin windows. It's finals week at my small, liberal arts university, and I am officially finished with fall semester. As I gorge myself with Reese's that I bought on sale, and Yoohoos that I didn't buy at all, I reflect on the fact that my 21 year old body aches with the desire to be nothing but warm.
It is December in Ohio, and snow is already here. It is the opening to a long winter, and at least six months of cold (honestly it does not begin to warm up until the last week of May). With winter break ahead of me, I know that I will spend my days in baggy sweaters and thicker socks, thinking that menopause sounds like an appealing alternative.
I started this blog because A., I am an English Major. Words leak out of my finger tips, anyway. B., I have high hopes of one day being Carrie Bradshaw, and C., Maybe someone will find it and think that I am undeniably interesting. Perhaps I will be the next blogging queen, and finally have something to distract me from the cold.
Until then,
Jordan.
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