Big girls don't cry

I dont think it matters how old you get, when you are sick, you want someone to come take care of you. I want my toast, bacon, and gingerale. As much as you want to be left alone, all you want is someone to call, to come by, just so even though you may be alone, someone is thinking of you. Maybe it's just me, but it's the little things like that that make you feel better. Just a quick phone call checking on you, offering to bring you soup. The little text saying they hope you sleep well.

At Tookie's today, as I'm sitting there miserable adding up all the people I will probably make sick, I started thinking about how old I am. I'm almost 25 and I feel nothing like 25. I still have my stuffed animal, Bert, that when I am sick, feeling lonely, I cuddle with. I like teeny bopper movies and ribbons in my hair. I still think boys have coodies, and I loves tire swings. I bite my nails and hate getting my hair cut. Then I started thinking about all the other things, that remind me how old I actually am. But I'll let those go. I feel like curling up with Bert and watching a movie.... sweet dreams