Things are not terrific. My parents were out here to visit Ithaca because Brotherology has been treating me to suicidal text messages. In order to not breach our very close sibling bond (not sarcasm; before Fellowology he was my everything) they ineffectually hinted that he should try to be more social at business school. Then they cornered me yesterday over lunch, explaining it falls to me to push him into therapy. My mother has done incredible research to find a list a suitable therapists in the area familiar with combat PTSD. But what the hell? I'm coming apart at the seams but just am much better at seeming normal. Unintentional puns. So my brother's potential impending suicide is my problem despite the fact that I'd like to join him. Cool.

Meanwhile I have been too obsessed with my own doom to visit Fellowology, and last night I bought a ticket with my rent money in response to his completely understandable concerns. I missed my connecting flight after a three hour layover bc I didn't realize it was in a different terminal. With that long of a layover, you can't find out the gate right away. I spent 2.5 hours at a dumb restaurant having exactly one beer and half a gross order of nachos before casually heading towards a gate that was eons away.

So now I'm spending the night in the airport. I deserve all bad things, so that's okay. But Fellowology is now inconvenienced en route to work tomorrow because my early flight will disrupt his commute. He's displeased that I am not on my way. I despise myself for disappointing him. And I have not spent the night in an airport since Dublin in 2005. Not happy about repeating a horrible experience.

Summary: everything sucks. I suck. This sucks. I hate Charlotte, NC. (Just the airport. No offense. I have had a lovely, lovely time in Asheville)

UPDATE: It's about 1am. I'm in the airport with a sorry cast of characters trying to keep my wits with a steady steam of Guardians of the Galaxy soundtrack songs. And cute texts from my wonderful boyfriend.

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