Thinking back on it now…

I’m so happy to be a senior now, and not a sophomore. Things were always so sad as a sophomore. I used to cry like all the time at night. Sure, there were a number of valid reasons, but even when things were calm, I know that I used to cry. I don’t remember what I cried over, I’m sure it was something stupid. Anyway, honestly, Cameron stuff aside… I never cry myself to sleep anymore. Overall, I’m not that sad. I was always stressed as a sophomore. I think in some way I used to stress myself out as a way to motivate myself, as strange as that sounds. Maybe it’s the anti-depressants that are talking but… I’m not as stressed out as I used to be. I’ve grown a lot as a person these last couple of months, in ways that I never thought I could.

I’m fighting the fight. I’m really doing this. This Sunday will count as my first month of being completely and totally clean. The struggle is nowhere near being over. The urges are still very strong. But I’m fighting through it. I’m alone, but I’m doing this, and that’s what matters. It’s incredible knowing that I’ve gotten this far, given the strength of my urges to give in. Sometimes I feel so drained and powerless for no reason at all and I want to give in but I can’t. Because, honestly, I don’t feel like I have anyone to depend on, not even Megan. After the whole Putting Me and Cameron on the Same Level for her party thing, I realize that maybe I thought my friendship with Megan was stronger than it actually was. Maybe I don’t mean as much to her as I thought I did. Like, that’s her thing so whatever, but I realize now that I don’t have a lot of people to depend on for support, other than Jorgey. Those feelings of isolation are the strongest when I’m at school and, perhaps, drives me to hurt myself because I’m the only person I can depend on to make myself feel better. No one else sympathizes or sees my pain, but I do, and even if I feel ashamed of myself after I do it, I know that the shame I feel is some sort of sympathy for myself. It’s weird, yeah.

None of my old friends have asked me why I’ve stopped hanging out with them. None at all. I didn’t expect them to, and that’s part of the reason why I left them alone. They don’t care about me, and there are other people that are more worthy of my time than they are. I can’t believe it has taken me this long to realize that but at least I’m moving on with my life and pushing the people who don’t care about me out of it.

 

I got contacts.

Yeah, I’m that vain.

Stuff happens. Chilling with Jorgey. Ditching pep assemblies with Amanda. Calling Brandon weekly. Calling Melissa sometimes. E-mailing Jon. Started writing like crazy. Trick or treating with Jorgey. Scary movie marathons, :D Getting healthier. Gained five pounds. Only twelve more pounds to gain back. Trying to find ways to finance color guard. Going to long practices with Jorgey.

Having fun making new friends who will actually care about me and want me to get better. My old friends stunted my growth and honestly- I don’t need people like that in my life. So whatever.

I don’t argue like this with anyone but you

…”We do it all the time.”

Corinne Bailey Rae is also a person I’ve been listening to lately.

I talked to Cody last night, which was insightful. It used to be so weird talking about our relationship, intimate parts and all, and now it isn’t. For what it’s worth, I’ve come to think of that relationship fondly even if we ended things on bad terms. It’s so weird how that change occurred and I didn’t realize it was happening as it was happening. I mean, I’ve healed and he’s a friend again and I only feel like we shouldn’t have ever dated because then we would’ve been friends this entire time. It would’ve saved both of us a lot of trouble. He seems to think the opposite, though. That it was worth it. I don’t know. I guess it’s easier to have that position for him.

Logan texted me the other day and asked me to meet him some time after school next week. I am really worried about it. I’m not even excited, I’m really scared of what’s going to happen. I haven’t spoken to him since sophomore year, I don’t get it.

I’m in love with a girl who sees who you are

I am so in love with Pete Yorn and Scarlett Johansson. Their new record is great.

Jorgey came over yesterday after school. She’s a sophomore who moved here a few months ago. I was surprised by how much we got along. I like getting to know her. She says that she doesn’t like it here and that these random kids keep giving her problems. And that I’m the coolest person she’s met so far. Anyway, we’re going to spend more time together. I like knowing that there’s someone new to spend time with. I’m making her a mix CD. We shared music yesterday and I’ve never done that before. She was showing me the music that she listens to and I always thought that music was something to listen to alone, but it was neat listening to music with her. She’s on color guard with me and we both have painting together. I keep forgetting that she’s a sophomore haha. We’re supposed to be watching Where the Wild Things Are next weekend.

I hung out with Mary last weekend, which was pretty great. I never see her anymore but now we text like all the time. I really missed her and she’s changed a lot but we’re really a lot alike. It’s nice knowing that other people exist that are as passionate about things as I am. She’s going to read over some of my writing so that I can decide whether I’m going to self-publish an anthology of my stuff for my culminating project. She watches Glee, too. She wants to get me into fan fiction but I don’t know anything about it but it makes me giggle and it makes her giggle that I giggle about it. :3

I quit my job last Wednesday. It was so heart breaking. Everyone was wishing me luck for the future and hugging me and saying they’d miss me. It was a really nice way to say goodbye to everyone. I don’t think I could’ve imagined a better way to have my last day at work.

I like having all these new people to spend time with. I haven’t been feeling like I can trust anyone and now I have a handful of people that I can share stuff with. I feel so self-conscious and insecure and annoying around my old friends but my new friends actually make me feel better and remind me that there are people that actually _are_ worth my time because they treat friendships the way I do. I realize lately that I’ve had this mentality that people can be as mean as they want to be to me and it’s okay because I’m insecure about myself and it’s my fault. It’s wrong for me to think.

I also realize that, with Cameron, and everything… There was a fucking HUGE period of time in which I never spoke to him and didn’t know him. And that was fine with me because he’s just annoying. High school relationships really aren’t worth it. Like Mary said, high school relationships are stupid because they’re supposed to be stupid. Keeping that friendship with Cameron wasn’t worth it because he was hurting me the entire time. The entire relationship wasn’t worth it, and it was foolish of me to trust someone that much when I didn’t know him that well to begin with.

I’m looking forward to getting healthy again, gaining weight, and getting past The Crackdown.

____

I just started listening to The Days Go By Oh So Slow for Jorgey’s mix CD. God, it so brought me back to that concert with Cameron. I never took the time to write it down here but it was really amazing even if he looked really dorky bobbing his head around because he didn’t know how to dance. And even if we got home at one. And he got in trouble for not wearing a seatbelt in the car because he wanted to fall asleep on me or whatever. That last part doesn’t really matter because I was knocked out and I couldn’t recollect anything from the car. But yeah. We went to Trader Joe’s and I had never been to Trader Joe’s and I wanted to steal a poster from the concert. Even if we saw them everywhere as we were driving to the concert, I couldn’t find any to take with me. We went from streetlight to streetlight trying to find one.

I’m trying to write this down as I remember it because I’m forgetting more and more and as much as I don’t like thinking about him, I don’t want to forget everything.

I know, however, that I should have never, ever, trusted him the way I did. I don’t want to do this stuff ever again. I thought about it and it’s like, what’s the point? Even marriages aren’t considered permanent. Why have a relationship that intense and know that it’s going to end? I don’t understand it. I don’t know if I ever will. Why are those kinds of relationships permissible in our society?

I am so hopelessly loyal. I don’t think being in romantic relationships was ever a good decision on my part. But, for what it’s worth, I think I initially dated Cameron out of wanting to be in a relationship again. That doesn’t mean that I wasn’t ready to be in a new relationship. I was healthy when I started dating again. But, The Therapist said something that was so blunt that I can’t forget it: “Amanda, you and I both know that a month and a half before you guys broke up, that you were seriously reconsidering whether you wanted to stay in your relationship with him. You can’t deny it.” It’s true. He said that I’m dealing more with my fear of rejection than anything else and he’s right. I’ve always been afraid of someone rejecting me for being the person that I am when I’m thinking they really like me. I don’t want to scare people away.

I’m also really mad. He was there when I was dealing with Cody. The one person that seemed to always be there for me is gone. I could trust him with my secrets more than anyone else really, mostly because he doesn’t have a lot of friends and he doesn’t gossip. I feel so weird not wanting to talk to him now, but I can’t be afraid to let go of him anymore. It’s almost like when I first started getting to know him. I didn’t say a lot to him because I didn’t want to offend him. But even after we got to know each other better, I had to hide a lot of myself from him. I guess I just miss him as a friend more than a boyfriend. I’m not as sad as I used to be, mostly because there are bigger things that I need to focus on right now.

I quit my job today.

I didn’t expect for them to already know that I was going to quit, nor did I expect to get all teary-eyed as I left. Everyone hugged me and wished me luck for my future and invited me to come back and visit. It was really emotional for me. My boss gave me this really beautiful bouquet of red and yellow roses. Honestly, like the most beautiful bouquet I’ve received on my life.

Now I can really move on with my life, though. That chapter of my life is over and I never thought it would be haha. I can’t wait to visit them in the next couple of months.

I never knew what “estranged” meant until I took the time to look it up today.
Estrange: To withdraw; to withhold; hence, reflexively, to keep at a distance; to cease to be familiar and friendly with.

How sad. Another one was, as an adjective, “caused to be unloved.”

Possible book title ideas.

Yesterday, I briefly looked into getting a book published. You know, for my culminating project, because my first idea of writing a screenplay is out the window.

1. Profiting From the Perpetual Sunshine
2. The Moment is Pregnant with Possibilities
3. The Veneer of My Life is On Fire

That’s all I have right now, haha.

Why can’t I write a screenplay, you ask? Because, as much as I’d like to make a movie that I’d like to see, that’s full of metaphor and symbol and everything, representative of all people and without prejudice… It’d just be like writing a book and then producing it. In some ways I think that visually presenting it would be a bit more magical but uh… That’s where I’m at right now.

I need to write my college essay. Upon reading the prompt and considering possible topics, I keep asking myself… What the fuck have I done with the past twelve years of my life?! What have I ever done that is worth talking about! I’m reading all of my old entries on here, trying to figure out what I’m going to write about, but instead I arrived at the conclusion that I’m really the hugest smart-ass ever, and that I don’t write anything that actually has to do with me on here. :3

Me: “Dr. ____ sounded really worried about me today.”
Dad: “Everyone is.”

I gave in. I’m sorry.

I just dug this up today. I handed this letter to Melissa some time last January I think.

Melissa-

When I met you last year, I was surprised by the warmth and kindness that you displayed toward me. Even if I knew that we just met, I was surprised that there was no latency period between the point at which we met and when we became close, and that I was not particularly alienated by it. I hope you were not frightened by the degree at which I was open with you; you did not act like it did so I followed your lead. You helped me through a lot of difficult times last year and I appreciate it. Not only did you give me great advice, but you were so understanding of the way that I felt about things and made me genuinely feel better. I do not think I would have been able to deal with all of the things that I faced last year without your help.

I did not think that I would meet someone so quickly who shared my interests and most of my beliefs but simultaneously challenged my beliefs and got me into new things. Before I met you, I felt so isolated not only because of the beliefs that I had, but because of the fury with which I possessed them. I did not think that anyone would understand how passionate I felt about those beliefs, and you did. If anything, you encouraged me to maintain those beliefs and strengthened them.

I want to let you know how much you mean to me. I owe you a lot and I am willing to pay my dues. If you need a person to talk to about anything, be assured that I will be available without debate. I’m sorry that I wasn’t more supportive or sympathetic to you yesterday before Knowledge Bowl, things went quickly after we talked! I’m also sorry that we have not been able to be around each other as much as we used to. We can work something out.

Thanks for being nothing short of wonderful to me. I can only hope that I have reciprocated that somehow.

Megan says (9:25 PM):
dont trust him
And if you’re unhappy still, I’ll be hanging on your line says (9:26 PM):
I did for about three hours haha

I have nothing to do this weekend besides studying and possibly dancing around in my underwear. And practicing for color guard. I went to knowledge bowl today and it actually was kind of okay.

Actually it was pretty great. Amber volunteered me to be team captain, as well as Cassie, surprisingly. I always had this idea that Cassie didn’t like me that much but I guess she does. She reserved a seat for me :D Christina came up to me afterwards and said that I’m really smart or something and that I know all these random facts. Cameron said that I’m the biggest threat to him or something like that since I guess my voice travels pretty well and he heard like everything that I said. Even if I was almost always wrong. I think he was joking :3

I have to submit a painting for the reflections contest and our theme this year is “Beauty is…” I like reading and I think books are beautiful so I’m going to put a lot of bookish themes in my painting. Like a huge scarlet letter A and some Eckleberg eyes :D Other things will be there too, but my friends said that what I have right now is actually pretty good. I’m surprised since I have no artistic skill at all when it comes to actually using mediums that do not involve words. I’m really excited to see how my painting turns out.

I’m probably going to sew some stuff up this weekend and contemplate my life. I’ll make some jello, too. I’ve been feeling sick to my stomach all week and I hope that I’ll feel better over the weekend. The SAT is next weekend and I want to improve my score but I have no idea how. I think the only valid way is NOT to get sleepy after the break.

Time to Talk About My Feelings:

I’m stressed. I don’t feel as sad as I used to, though. Something happened, not sure what, but I feel a bit better. There are two guys in my spanish class who think I’m hot. Possibly three. I don’t think they are, though. :3

I don’t feel like myself, though. I hope that I won’t fall apart.

Went to color guard and brought a flag home. Spent an hour or so with Megan after school.

I don’t know how I feel. :3 I want so much to say that I’m okay. I’m sick of telling myself that I’m fine when I’m not and I know I should be totally fine because this isn’t worth it. I am so frustrated with myself. I want to curl up into a ball and cry but I don’t have the time to do that.

I need to give something up. I can’t handle this anymore.

Trish and I went to the marching band competition yesterday, then we shopped and we went to see Love Happens. I left the house at like ten and I came home at seven. I wanted to shop more, haha.

Friday I went to knowledge bowl and I’m thinking of quitting. Cameron said he’d hang out with me afterward for a little bit but he sort of ran out of the room after practice. He said he had physics homework to finish but I was like, whatever, we can still hang out? But what ended up happening was that I got to the computer lab with Kate, everyone else was there, and he didn’t look at me once. Until he realized like half an hour later that I was crying. He asked me what was wrong and I didn’t tell him. Like whatever. Then I waited until mom came and I left. I’m thinking of quitting knowledge bowl because I felt so incredibly lonely there.

It’s sad because I’m on the A-team now. I couldn’t go to state last year or the year before that. Now I am in the position to totally go, which is what I always wanted. But I wanted to go so badly because Melissa and Jon and Zoe and Nick would all be there. They aren’t here this year. I wanted to go so badly because Cameron would be there. Mmph. I loved knowledge bowl. I spent all summer preparing for it. Whatever decision I make, I’m not going to talk to Cameron about it. As a matter of fact, I’m not going to talk to Cameron at all. I realized Friday that there is no hope for the survival of whatever kind of friendship we have now.

I joined color guard. I’ve only been to one practice but I can’t wait until I actually get good at it. My teacher said that I can rent things out on Tuesday to practice with at home. I’m thinking that, if I quit knowledge bowl, I’m going to dedicate most of my time to color guard.

Short Story 4

We lived on a purple plane. It was this totally amazing purple plane that you and I never expected. We were abducted in our sleep and taken here. The plane is purple because the ground is purple and you can kick it around and the purple powder floats in the air. It stained our pajamas and our skin when we first arrived here, and that bothered us when we arrived, but now we are covered in purple and we don’t try to fight it off anymore. We created forts with our pajamas and hovered naked beneath the fabric. We thought we were safe from it- as if there were anything dangerous surroundng us- but we couldn’t hide from it. The purple powder is rich with nutrients, like breast milk.

We didn’t engage in small talk. We didn’t even introduce ourselves because we knew we would never see each other again after this. We merely discussed and pondered the nature of where we were and what happened to us. However, this was in the midst of our incessant stomache aches since the air was too rich for us to handle. Maybe this is why, in movies, aliens are always silent. Or they speak in a language other than english. Maybe english is doing it wrong. Maybe there’s a deeper language that exists that we can employ to express ourselves without using so many muscles. In spite of the pain, the breast milk gave us everything that we needed so we couldn’t complain. Even if we still wanted to consume other things in the meantime.

Days and nights were obsolete on the purple plane. It was either all day or all night contemporaneously. Because of that, the usual methods we used to keep track of time no longer applied. We almost invented a new method on our own until we realized that maybe keeping track of time didn’t matter. What’s the rush when there’s nothing to do here? We laid on our backs all the time, for Christ’s sake, looking at the purple snow ahead of us! Circadian cycle after circadian cycle, skewed as it was, made the snow become less and less beautiful. It snowed here every so often. Not nightly, whatever nightly would mean to us, you created a theory about how the snow would form here. Regardless, when the snow isn’t beautiful anymore and your buttons don’t button the world is slippery you are choked up and crying you feel empty and you weep to release the emptiness inside you but you lose more of yourself that way you’re more empty than before even if emptiness is emptiness, what is left?

With time, we found a way to escape through mimicking each other’s motions. And we found that, no matter how miserable we felt while we were away from the plane, no matter how much we really missed being on that plane together, the plane was unsympathetic and unforgiving to our emotions, or mine anyway. I don’t know about yours. After we left, we never knew each other like that again. We were right.

This isn’t to say that we didn’t know each other before we were adopted by this place. Quite the opposite. Things built up and I decided to give you a chance and next thing I knew, I was stuck with purple dust all over me on this spatial impossibility. This isn’t to say, either, that the experience was entirely physical. Quite the opposite. There was actually nothing physical or literal about it. I don’t know if you and I really co-existed like that. To be honest, I always imagined Love in the way that I experienced crying and sadness when I was a child- as suffocating purple air. No joke- as a child, I would plead for salvation in the midst of lavender fog. Anyway, I thought that living on a purple plane would be a one-time thing per person. Once it has happened, I wouldn’t need to see the person again- the plane would protect me from you. As it happened, it didn’t. And I ran into you once in town. You were leaving a place while I was passing it and you stopped and almost went back inside but you didn’t and you seemed so surprised at yourself for arriving at that resolution. We did it. We arrived through the lavender fog. Congratulations.

Short Story 6

He kept staring at the half-open closet before him. He feels the soft, tacit, dark turnings of melancholia within him. Soft as it is, it can not be manipulated. Soft as it is, he actually wants to destroy it. He wants it to grow bigger, to ascertain its presence and truly feel its effects, to break apart, to stick to newsprint and transfer its message-  its silent cohabitation must amount to something more. A soft fire licking the inside of his throat. He carries this fire around with him, even when he isn’t ceremoniously staring at this closet, concentrating on this unforgiving merciless stranger inside of him. Months pass and something compels it to finally grow but it is not mature enough to actually leave him. It cries to him, declaring its permanance. He names it, giving into its desire to stay. He finds the name useless because he cannot speak of it. Its name is now 23, after  his favorite number, the number he hoped would offer all sorts of success and value into his life. This number guides him through life. Your birthday was on the twenty third.  That is one of the first things he remembers whenever your name is mentioned. His mouth fills with blood; he cannot speak. He used to always be able to express himself- poetically, colloquially, anything. Now he is left uninspired. He cannot breathe metaphors like he used to. You know all his favorite words that people would only know if they knew him? He hates them now. He is so sick of himself. He hates his thoughts because you are the only person who ever visits him. He is loath to become involved with anyone else because he doesn’t see why anyone, besides you, the person you were before you left him, would want to entertain him or be entertained by him. He’s the most self-conscious person on this planet, especially when he is alone.

He cannot fight 23 any longer; it is full of every passion he has ever felt. Every passion, response to disappointment, rage, love and hate, both illusory and real, culminates into this seemingly benign character named 23. He could point to where it lives in his body, no one can see it. No one knows what he feels. He has never felt so alone or misunderstood. When he stares at his closet, he can’t bring himself to close his eyes because he knows its presence will overwhelm him, unexpectedly and brilliantly, and this frightens him. To focus on the paradox of this ritual tears him apart. Before and after. Before during after. Staying in staying out. Being here with you, and not being here with you. It is this and now it is not. It is over. It was happening. 23 wasn’t here. Now it is. These paradoxes, this state of change, as all that he could think of. Once again, it tears him apart.

He cannot speak, but it’s not like you speak to him either. He sees this as some kind of deliberate vengeance on your part, now revealing your carelessness concerning his well-being that you couldn’t reveal when you dichotomously declared that You Loved Him More Than Anyone Else. Every time you said that you loved him, he would correct you to say that You Loved Him More Than Anyone Else- You Favor Him Over Everyone Else- because logically, that makes sense, at least to Slavoj Zizek.

He believes this effort to rid himself of 23 and every effort before it is futile. Maybe this fire he cannot see is not really a fire or a monster but a part of him, now enlarged and ostentatious. He would never know. He reads incessantly to ignore it. He wishes that he never noticed it. It is like a crying baby at a distance that no facade, no bravado, no pretense, could provide refuge.

He imagines himself seizing the bloody tumor and ripping it out of his body. He would hopelessly hold it out and shame himself for his temerity. Coagulated blood sliding down streams along his chest. Miniscule veins clinging to the sides of his neck. He dies as the parasite dies. 23 leaves a fringed outline and that is only the aftermath of the hurricane. He stands in the bathroom of his apartment and waits for someone to notice that this happened. Something this drastic cannot logically remain unnoticed for eternity. Except no one would come to his rescue because no one would know that he did this. Especially not you. Like that time he laid supinely on the plastic, slippery porch and cried; it rained. He found himself covered in pine needles and dirt. “The world is mourning for us.” Every time, he hears you knocking on the door, announcing that the state just declared a nuclear holocaust and this is the place you want to be. You would finally see him cry or bleed or write about you and you would understand the loneliness he felt and possibly the loneliness you felt, and together you would await for the world to end.

Peeking out of the bathroom doorway, he looks through a series of mirrors which reflect the door that leads into his apartment. If you were to come during this time, he would notice you in almost no time at all. He leaves his door unlocked for you. So many outlets of his life that are traditionally barricaded off by walls are available to you. Somehow they always were.

You aren’t coming today. Nor will you ever come to this place, even in the event of a nuclear holocaust. He realizes this and decides to continue his morning. Before he gets into his car to go to work, he acknowledges that he will be very, very, lonely for the rest of the day, but he corrects himself with the argument that he is very, very lonely all the time regardless of whether he is home or not. He finds those nights alone at home the worst, but at least there, no hay ninguna esperanza. He makes no detours. He used to make detours, to your house, to pick you up because you and he worked at the same office. You applied for jobs in the same office. There were six openings and both of you made it. Now it seems so strange to him that the only time you are guaranteed to see each other is when you are working, and even then it’s not really a guarantee but a promise. This promise, with conditions so obscure, is what motivates him every morning. Glances are luxurious now, at least for him. You don’t care about seeing him or not. As a matter of fact, you wish that you could work some place else so that you won’t have to speak to him again. He’s pathetic. You hated this job the moment you heard of it. You want to quit. However, this place, the single strong hold and commonality you both share, the only thing you can ever talk to him about from now on if, indeed, you speak to him. You wanted to be missed, and that’s why you did it. He misses you. It’s all that he can feel. This yearning for you is what he lives on. This yearning for him, that you once had, is now over and you don’t understand why. This yearning you had for him was almost like a very long crying session, that ends without a thought or provocation.

Every moment is a test for him. The phone rings- he briefly remembers you calling him once and believes that This Is It. He picks up the receiver after moments of hesitation and complacency. It isn’t you. He hears foot steps- they sound like yours but slightly less confident. It isn’t you. He opens a book from the library and finds a bookmark inside of it. Maybe you would read it knowing he would read it and stick a note inside of it for him. It is a list of numbers that meant something to someone once but lost its relevancy and is now abandoned inside a library book. You didn’t write on this bookmark for him. It will never be you.

He tells himself to get over it and get back to work. He tells himself it is never that easy. He argues that it is that easy, just like how this whole thing started. He proceeds.

He asks himself if he remembers when he met you. He asks himself if you were really worth it. He replies with the knowledge that he had no idea about anything that was going on: you were a clock, with big clock eyes, and mechanics  so indecipherable that you didn’t even know what the time was, and he was never any more privy to it than you were. He remembers that he was, in fact, very unhappy for a long time.

He admits the entire affair was a mistake. He pinches himself. He understand you only stayed with him to keep yourself from feeling lonely. He pinches himself. He asks you if he’s right. You do not speak; realizing that he has no choice, he replies for you.

“No, you could not be more wrong. I am hurt, too, because you aren’t here. I don’t want you back but I realize we had something special and I won’t forget you. You are still handsome. You are still funny and clever. I miss you. The world is mourning for us. “

But he doesn’t let himself get away with that.
“You are so correct. You should hate me. You never knew me. (You don’t even know who you are!) I held out because I didn’t want to be alone. (And then you proceed to admit that you always feel alone and hollow and whatever. He doesn’t take pity on you, and he doesn’t feel used, which was your intention.) I hate your hair and you always think you are too cool for everyone else. Your bookish attitude does not entitle you to be antisocial (He likes people. You never understood him.) Go ahead and spend your time with Hemingway and Perlman and Plath. Take a hint.”

It was two years long. For every year you loved him, he doubled it, if not in duration, then in intensity. He loved to hear you speak, rare as such an occurrence was. He respected you more than anyone else in your life ever did. He thought he knew you better than most people do. He no longer knows you; he sees you as a ghost, and is convinced that the person you were has died. He mourns over your death. He knows he was unhappy. He knows he never felt like he knew you. He knows he wrote letters to you a million times saying that he didn’t love you anymore. But at least at those moments, he held onto those letters, because he would fall in love with you again within the next couple of hours. You felt the same way, but you didn’t let the cycle complete itself because maybe it just wasn’t that easy to love him. There are so many things that are wrong with him that he is only now beginning to realize. He isn’t white. He isn’t brilliant. He isn’t funny. He doesn’t know how to just shut up. He is too complex for anyone to understand. You didn’t try to. But he also knows that you are truly, truly  pathetic; you foolishly devote your life to asceticism, and you do it wrong. You resent everyone around you for not obliging to your silent and latent demands. Stop torturing yourself and stop torturing everyone around you. That’s all he ever wanted to say to you after this was finished: you are the most pathetic person he has ever met.

Do you remember him at all, though? Do you remember anything that you did with him?

“Of course I do. It’s all I think about lately. You were great; we were great. We didn’t want this to end. Like that time we watched the fireworks on the fourth of july. And that time we flew kites. And that day we only whispered to each other. And the sign language graffiti Fitzgerald Poe Hemingway. The stars exploding. Seashells fossils it was snowing humid letters poked along the windows.”

“You’re ridiculous! Stop thinking about this. I did a long time ago.”

I’ve started to write again.

A few days ago, I had to escort this guy to one of the conference rooms in our building. I wasn’t in the mood for talking but I spoke to him anyways. He asked me what I wanted to do and where I wanted to go for school. I said that maybe I’d do some writing. Then he started to overflow with all this knowledge about careers in writing- a lot of stuff that I hadn’t read in any of the books that I got from the library about it. He said that usually Craigslist has writing jobs. I went there today and, lo and behold, there was a ton of writing jobs. That gave me some inspiration to keep doing what I’m doing. He said that if I get a degree from the college I’m planning on going to, it’d be free ride from then on out because of Prestige. I had no idea my college had Prestige. If anything, I thought that going to that school would be lame and a last resort if I couldn’t get into any other college in the country.

My future has promise.

Even if I don’t want to free lance, and that’s basically what doing The Craigslist Thing is. But it’s not like I want to be a full time writer, either. :3

“Cameron helped me on my math homework today; he was a real dick.” – Allie

Allie always makes stuff funny. :3

I’m reading a lot of Sylvia Plath. I bought Seven Types of Ambiguity by Elliot Perlman, so I can finally finish reading it.

Is it the sea you hear in me,
Its dissatisfactions?
Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness?

Love is a shadow.
How you lie and cry after it
Listen: these are its hooves: it has gone off, like a horse.

All night I shall gallop thus, impetuously,
Till your head is a stone, your pillow a little turf,
Echoing, echoing.

Or shall I bring you the sound of poisons?
This is rain now, this big hush.
And this is the fruit of it: tin-white, like arsenic.

I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets.
Scorched to the root
My red filaments burn and stand, a hand of wires.

Now I break up in pieces that fly about like clubs.
A wind of such violence
Will tolerate no bystanding: I must shriek.

The moon, also, is merciless: she would drag me
Cruelly, being barren.
Her radiance scathes me. Or perhaps I have  caught her.

I let her go. I let her go
Diminished and flat, as after radical sugery.
How your bad dreams possess and endow me.

I am inhabited by a cry.
Nightly it flaps out
Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.

I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

Clouds pass and disperse.
Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?
Is it for such I agitate my heart?

I am incapable of more knowledge.
What is this, this face
So murderous in its strangle of branches?

Its snaky acids kiss.
It petrifies the will. These are isolate, slow faults
That kill, that kill, that kill.
_____

I swear, I’ve felt so alone during this past week, and I feel like there is really no other way for me to express myself than to create something but I haven’t found the words to describe anything. That Plath poem did it for me.

I started writing another short story. But I think I lost the inspiration to keep going with it. I’m beginning to feel that, perhaps, I’m special when it comes to writing. I’m certainly not Sylvia Plath, but I feel that no one can form words like I can when I start to feel all inspired and creative. I think I lost the inspiration to keep writing now because I feel incredibly empty. I’m scared of what’s going to happen in the next couple of months. Cameron’s being all nice to me now but I know that is only temporary. He feels guilty. And it’s not helping me get over him, as much as he thinks it does and how much I wish it were. He’s nice to me and it makes me want to be nice to him and it makes me want to act like I’m still his partner. Even if I’m not. And even if I don’t owe him anything. I go to sleep feeling that maybe he didn’t want things to change that much and he just wanted to keep things from getting too serious. I wake up remembering that he would not have left me if he loved me and he left me because he didn’t want to be with me. I go to sleep thinking that he is being nice to me because he misses me. I wake up realizing that he doesn’t miss me because he has no reason to. I go to sleep thinking of how he kept trying to kiss me when he was explaining himself. I wake up feeling betrayed and stupid and naive because he only did it to test me out and see if I would still fall for it.

Will I ever feel okay again. I think I’m hanging onto this because I didn’t want a boyfriend during my senior year and I told myself that if Cameron and I broke up, I wouldn’t get involved with another guy. I didn’t think he’d do it to me so quickly.

The only thing that makes me happy is reading. That is my source of consolation. I spend my lunches in the library.

What are the signs of a Good Decision?

Dear you:

Nunca puedo hablar con ti. I will never be able to replace you. I don’t know how to deal with you. I don’t want to play games with you to try to win you back. I don’t know what happened. You never spoke to me. You never told me the truth. I miss you like hell. I wish I knew what made you want to quit spending time with me.

Why doesn’t anyone love me back as much as I love them? Am I really that unlovable? Am I really that disposable?

I hate you. I hate your laugh. I hate your smile. I hate it whenever you look at me. I hate it whenever you speak to me. I hate you. I hate knowing that you’re perfectly content with your life right now. I hate knowing that whatever kind of happiness you desired, you received, at my expense. It took me months to trust you. I finally got to that point. I wrote you that letter saying it was okay for me to let my guard down. I was a fool. I decided to date you because I thought it was okay for me to take that risk because I thought you wouldn’t hurt me like the other one did. I knew that you wouldn’t get away with what the last one did to me. I thought I had it all covered.

You’re such a fucking liar.

You don’t see any of this. You didn’t value our relationship enough to push on through. You didn’t care about me enough to push on through. I am so frustrated. There are so many factors that could’ve influenced your decision to stay with me but it was that unbearable for you- you couldn’t stand me enough to reconsider. You tried saying it wasn’t my fault. You used every excuse in the book. This couldn’t be just about you because you made a decision that governed over me too.

I was willing to resolve this with you. I was willing to give you all the love in the world. I would’ve done anything for you. But you couldn’t stand me enough to stay with me. When the person you love and care about the most can’t stand you and won’t tell you why, for the second time, it’s really hard to ignore. Do you think I should’ve trusted you the way that I did?