I’m actually Insane.

The last two books I’ve read, it seems, are mainly about crazy people. The one show I’ve been watching almost non-stop all week has a pretty insane main character, and the very show itself is insane. Pretty much everything I’ve written this summer is insane. My goodness, I AM insane!

I only just noticed late Saturday evening, when BFF Danny and I went out to dinner, and literally every word out of my mouth was INSANE. Like, why was I explaining Time Lords to him? why am I telling him about how strange I was in elementary school? WHY AM I TELLING HIM MY FUTURE CAT’S NAME IS GOING TO CONTAIN THE WORDS ‘BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH’ in it, regardless of it’s gender? Why am I saying all this non-sensical stuff? (Why do I still feel like he’s the cool upperclassman, wondering why the heck he’s hanging out with a nerdy/awkward freshman, when I am, in fact a sophomore?)

Why is my Instagram filled with pictures of mydog, and screencaps of Doctor Who,  and pictures of people I don’t know, yet long to meet (and potentially marry)? WHY AM I THINKING OF MARRYING A BRITISH ACTOR? 

I am insane, aren’t I?

You’re going to have to lock me up in an asylum (preferably Dalek-free), right?

RIGHT?

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