I haven't been. Maybe it wasn't noticeable - I was certainly trying to mask it - but it's the truth. I didn't deal with myself because I didn't want to, so I laserlocked onto the marathon and told myself it was just because I was a Dedicated Athlete Who Wanted To Accomplish Things.
That's true, but I let it become nearly all I was. I haven't been fun for a while. These past couple of weeks have been hard because the marathon was gone, and I should have been really, really happy and pleased with myself, and instead I felt like a deflated balloon.
I reread some of the older entries on here, and I found myself thinking that it would be really cool to be this person's friend. I think I'm still that person in here, and I'm going to start poking around to see where she's - where I'M - hiding. And then I'll be my friend again, and take myself out for Vietnamese food, and come back from runs with my head full of things I can't wait to tell myself.
And now for something completely different.
Happy Birthday to DiNovia, whose box of presents (yes, plural) has been sitting on my desk for at least two months, while I was busy not sending it. I'm really quite a bad long distance friend. I love her extremely very much and generally think I don't deserve her.
If you ever wish to read some excellent femslash - or if you already read femslash but live under a very sad, unsexy rock - you should settle down with a DiNovia or two or all of them. And then send her letters begging for more stories. Moremoremoremore. Mentioning that I sent you won't get you anything, but it will make me feel like more of a contributor to the femslash universe than my three low-volume oneshots. Two if you don't count the Pippi Longstocking.
Oh, shut up.