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I wish my life could be unpolluted of worry. Instead, I wake up on fire. My worries vary. Sometimes I'm worried about a class I missed, sometimes I'm worried about saying the wrong things. But whatever it is, I can never explain it.

I'm a communication major who hates communicating. The older I get though, the more I realize how important communicating is; not just with those in front of you at the given moment, but communicating with others in your life who aren't necessarily with you everyday.

I would like to formally apologize (on this blog) to my parents. They have to put up with knowing very little of what goes on with my life, because I tell them very little. They'll usually call me, and I'll somehow come up with the smallest reason to not answer. It's essentially a game of phone tag, but I'm always "it," and I don't care about tagging the other player. I would much rather just ignore them, not because I don't adore them, but because I don't want to have to tell them anything.