Unlucky/Don't date imposters

I suck at sports. This has always been a good thing for me, aside from having to deal with the dissapointment of not making the 7th grade volleyball team. I've always avoided injuries. Infact, aside from a few random falls and a faulty nailpolish bottle, I've never really hurt myself. Until two weeks ago, that is. I didn't want to regret missing my chance to jump off a tall dune, and, with the unrelenting encouragement from the boyfriend, I leapt. For two terrifying seconds I was in the air, then I landed. I landed, re-sprained my ankle (3rd time in 6 months), and tore a calf muscle. All was healing perfectly well, and yesterday, assuming I was entirely healed, I walked about a mile and a half to Angela's apartment. Bad choice. Now I cannot walk- at all. My knee is all swelled up and so is my calf. I have injured myself.

Aside from mentrual cramps (If you are close to me, you probably know I've gone to the hospital and literally passed out from that pain before), I have never had some injury that has made me physically ill. This shit is insane. And all because I felt the urge to walk to Angela's at 731 from Cornell st. for a party. Whats more, it turned out Ange was in the hospital. I was going to try and visit her or catch up with her today, but I can't walk, let alone down the stairs or through a hospital.

I'm wishing I could get over to Colin's tonight and we could hang out, me with my fiercely painful, puffed up leg, him with a nasty sore throat/flu type thing. That is why he didn't join me on the trek to and from 731 last night. It would be nice tonight though, I'm longing to watch some movies, cuddle up and eat some pizza.

I do have an interesting memory from when Collin Davy lived in the 731 apartments. His neighbor was having a party, and we went to have some fun. I believe it was the last time we made out, solely because it sounded fun and was completely nonsexual. I laugh thinking about it. I also met a boy at that party. I was in a weezer phase at that point in time, and this guy, whose real name escapes me, looked EXACTLY like Rivers Cuomo from weezer. Sweatervest, plastic rim glasses- the works. We dated for about a month, but he turned out to be a psychopath with performance anxiety, if you get my drift. He made me realize dating a virgins was not something I wanted to do ever again. Also, I came to the conclusion dating psychopaths really wasn't my bag either. A final piece of advice, don't date someone because they look like a celebrity, they won't get that you are avoiding their 6 times a day phone calls because you don't like them. Then they'll keep those calls up until they trick you and use an unavailible number so you answer and bitch you out for being a heartless bitch. I was just trying to avoid confrontation. Everything worked out though, I met a nice boyfriend shortly thereafter went out with him for a little over a year, had some rebound flings, then met Colin, who makes me feel like no one else has, and that doesnt seem to be ending anytime soon. Which is nice. My rambling, however, ends now.