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Its 3am.  I'm watching Wings alone in my room.  I took me until I wrote that sentence to realize how lame this is.  I could be at a party.  But I left.  I could be downstairs writing letters and talking  But I'm not.

Antisocial?  Maybe.  I dunno.  I'm content with being alone, but part of me keeps hoping (insert almost any male's name here) would call me.  But what for?  Its 3am, its not like I would want to talk, or watch tv or a movie or something.  I'd much rather be sleeping, but for some reason I keep hoping for something to happen–if you figure out what that something is, let me know, cause I'm still trying to figure it out.

And by the way, I think I've got it figured out what I want/need.  But of course, God doesn't work as fast as I want him to.  So I'm stuck trying to be patient and waiting.  Its the waiting thats the worst part.  In the end it'll be worth it.  I just have to keep convincing myself over and over and over and over again of this.

You're right, I am being vague.

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