We've sat like this
for years
of our lives
the seats may have changed
(though mostly bucket)
the cars have definitely
changed,
the scenery is different
growing older
right along with us.

We may have moved
from the way back,
to the back,
to passenger
and driver
but we're still
provoked to confess
by the darkness
whipping passed;

talking to eachother
through lyrics
of music played too loud,
through screaming,
for screamings sake
through clasped hands
and speed.

flicking caution
out the open windows
like ashes
from our cigarettes

seeking penance
by the lighters light
and absolution
by the dayglo dashboard

Some things
are easier said
when you know
the person will
always
be beside you

never in front of
or behind.

confessions

ok, so. I've got to talk about something that has been bothering me for awhile. and it's kind of a touchy subject. some people may not understand my viewpoint. but I can't keep it to myself any longer. at any rate this is going to be hard for me to work through, so some lenience please.

*deep breath*

why is eric roberts haunting me? seriously. why am I always seeing that guy on t.v? what rabid twist of fate led to his career of every music video ever. I've really tried to be calm about this. but I have no problem admitting I've cracked. I think this is just a small manifestation of a musical crisis I'm going through. and with the way trends are going I don't believe I'll be coming out of it any time soon. I still blame eric roberts.

at least rob thomas has cut his hair. it's the little things, I guess.

off to sleep, and if I dream of eric roberts, you'll hear me scream.

a moment of silence...

or however you choose to acknowledge a passing.


for my car. and everything therein.



thank you.

half thought through, a third finished...

it's funny to realize when someone has lost faith in you. to realize everyone has lost faith in you. even funnier to realize you have lost faith in yourself. too many of my sentences begin with the condition " I used to..." or " I'm not usually like this but..." what happened? where along the way did I lose everything I used to be? I have my sneaking suspicions when it all begain. too long willingly giving myself away in pieces, to shore up those that never gave a fuck where the support came from. or even realized whose back they are consistently standing on. eventually there is a limit, or at least in my case, everything has run out. and now, when I need to give, there is nothing there. and most days I can't even bring myself to care.

but I am tired of dissapointing. of hearing that resignation in people's voices in reference to me. of feeling justified because after all, someone did it to me first. of constantly turning everything into something about me. and please, refrain from pointing out how that last statement directly contradicts the entire point of having an online journal. the irony hasn't escaped me.

I don't know how to rebuild people's faith, because I don't know how to rebuild myself. I'm not sure I even want to.

the twilight zone

here's how the conversation went:

you: you know, I'm thinking we should make the deadline christmas

me: really?

you: yeah, you know, just have there be nothing to do when we come back for christmas.

me: ok.

you: see my point? I mean we could finish next week and yay, but the deadline is december.

me: yeah, no, that makes total sense. I see your point.

how the conversation should have gone:

you: you know, I'm thinking we should make the deadline christmas.

me: are you completely fucking crazy? there is no fucking way. nutjob.

*sigh*

tradition

usually I only have my memories to toast on this day and a promise to keep. but, this year brings a double edged sword. something to make the memories achingly clear. so much so that I've lost myself a few times to the movie reel in my head.

to pupey: all the roads lead back to you. whether I want them to or not.

to the future and those that have one.

drink up.

cuspy

here's where being half gemini kicks my ass.

I love my best friend. he's a wonderful man. and he's had to work really hard to get that way, past obstacles that put lesser men under. And for all intents and purposes he is considered a part of my family. though never by me. our relationship is too complicated to be put safely in a labeled category.

My father is sick. And soon will be going in to have some massive surgery. The closest sister and her husband are two hours away. and me and my other sister and her husband are on the other side of the continent So while my dad can't do anything, it's a bitch for her and her husband to make the trek every weekend to take care of things. Not that that is a complaint of theirs. but logistically if something needs to be done on a daily basis, or an emergency happens, they aren't going to be much help. So boo calls my mother up at work and says 'hey if the driveway needs shoveling, or whatever. the girls need a ride from the airport when they come in. anything. call and let me know.' That's an incredibly sweet thing right?

So why is my first instinct to be wicked annoyed? And want to tell him to back off?

Because I'm fucking insane.

And I hate information I can't control.

I claim no responsibility for the words that follow...

so here's the thing. I don't like drugs that aren't recreational. For a lot of different reasons. A big one being if I'm gonna fuck with my mind and body it sure as hell is going to be for something more fun than a fucking tylenol. So I live an over the counter drugstore free life. Or at least I try really hard. I admit, sometimes I cave to people nagging me and I'm not an idiot, if a doctor prescribes something I take it. Usually.

what's that? what's my point you say? well I'll tell you. I've been sick. This in itself is an unusual thing for me. So much so that I've had to listen to people be all shocked and weirded out about it. "what? you're sick? man, that's just weird." Now there is an inherent trait that is genetically encoded into each member of my family, I think it stems from my mother's side, wherein we worry. About the strangest things. So my sister is always convinced I am dying. Maybe because I was all sorts of fucked up as a youngin, but that's an entirely different pity me story. She made up her mind that she was trucking the 8 blocks to walgreens and getting me medication. Long story short (too late!) ((+5 points to your 'I like you' column if you can name the movie reference)) I've been cracked out of my mind for far too many days.

I hate the way this shit makes me feel. I become extremely disassociated. I don't mean groggy. I mean sociopathic disassociated. Like you know you're stabbing someone 44 times but you can't make the connection that that's a bad thing. So besides freaking out the nice people letting me live with them, I am seriously beginning to doubt my ability to function in normal society.

On the plus side I think things like this and am actually inclined to share them:

Have you ever read a toothpaste tube? Am I the only one just a tad freaked out by the dire warning: If you swallow more than the amount recommended for brushing (roughly pea size) you should get medical help or contact Poison Control immediately. And beyond that. Has anyone ever tried to kill someone with an overdose of toothpaste? I want to see a murder mystery surrounding that MO. Or a comedy of suicidal errors ala the beginning of Better off Dead.

this is me on no fun drugs. Someday I'll do an entry on fun ones. Sadly there might not be a difference.

click click

There are lots of things I could be saying. some good, some bad, some I'd like to keep lying to myself about. so words are not where I am at. Instead, I'll direct you to a few places that have been occupying my attention for one reason or another.


not for jackasses

hidden watson

fandom

geeky

grim reaper

for every good piece, there are several bad

Nothing ever
falls apart
casually

When things
fall apart

They fall apart
so hard

No period
of calm,
just debris
flying every which way,
but up

a cacophony

but that's life.

I understand that
I really do

I've been trying to
be your pillar,
something
to hold onto

what I'm
rapidly beginning
to realize
is that
the trouble doesn't lie
in you holding onto me
but rather
me
holding onto you

each little bit of
distance creeping in
leaves me
at a loss
on how to stop
you from
drifting away
on a current

dorothy and the twister
all over again.
**********************************

(emotional maracas)

it's a good thing
you can't
pick people up
and shake them

to hear them
rattle inside
from all the pieces
broken

it's a good thing
I don't clatter
as I walk
down the streets

giving away
the fact that
I am mangled

I've been
playing
at living
so long

getting by
cause no one
can hear

no one can detect
my fragmentation

it's a fool that swears to you
they can't act.

now that the
time has come
to be everything
I've been
pretending to be
I don't know
where to begin
picking up my pieces

how to fit them together

or how to keep them
from divulging
the truth

when I fall.
**********************************

pushed
to the point of distraction
it's all
bubbling up inside you
isn't it?

I'd resort
to arm chair
psycho babble
to feel like
I know you,
know what's going on

reassure
where there is
not a leg
to stand on

except that
each minute
that ticks by
cracks me open
like a sieve
where every doubt
I keep reined in
begins to leak out

I'm on the bottom
looking up
from a pattern I've already
fallen into.

again.

You'll notice
I'm gone
by the time
it's too late.
**********************************

I hate to ask

really.

One more thing
to add to your plate.

I understand
if you simply
haven't the time

honestly.

being last minute
and all.

but could you
spare a minute

to help me
hold it together?

I'm afraid

if I take one more step
I'll crumble.

call it what you like, just make sure you call it

took to drinking
this evening

put "something"
on loop playback
loud as the speakers
and landlord
allow

grabbed this pen
and paper
to try to articulate
what I would
rather forget

it's odd to miss
what you never
really had

running so
hot and cold
I don't know
what to do with myself

let alone
what I must
be doing to you

I'd give you
what you want

if I only knew what you wanted

if I knew how.

all this rhetoric
'bout time
and change
rings just as hollow
from this side
of the bottle

cause time has passed
and things have changed
and I'm still here

something in the way you move
something in the way you know
something in the things you show me
something in your voice

I keep wondering
if it's enough

sure thing
the answers aren't
in a song
in a bottle
or on this notepad

but they're all I've got
tonight.

bang your head

all over the place today. listlessness, anger, resentment, bit of depression, and a pounding head are all combining to make it hard to focus on something other than myself. which is never good.

I don't enjoy conciliatory or pacifistic behaviour coming from third party players. It is more energy I have to expend to assure them I'm quite fine. no matter that I'm not, and that there is nothing wrong with that.

comprehend this: it is ok to not be fine.

nothing can change it. even consolation prizes. I keep thinking I'll get used to this. but I never do. and it makes me despise emotions all over again, and their brittle constitution. and optimism, which is responsible for each throb of my head I am sure.

too many people have a say in my life, and they want it to suit them, on their terms, on their timeline. feeling over-exposed. I want some time to figure things out without people watching me. call it cowardice, call it fear, call it whatever you'd like. I still want it. and I'm beginning to doubt that I'll ever get it.

it would be nice to curl up in the dark, with the music loud, by myself, miserable. until it passes. but I don't have that option. at least not for a couple days.

so I'm stuck. all over the place.

things on my mind

what is the difference between cute and beautiful? what bridges the distance? what makes you define one way or the other? aesthetics? subjectivity? rules? how do you peel that label off your being? how do you affix the one you want?

how often do you realize that labels affect? I think we forget who is listening. I know I do.

It is amazing the degree of wanting that comes from letting yourself experience something. If you close yourself off, you still want it. But it is a manageable thing. A passing irritant. But once you break down, that's all there is. wanting. Is the problem that you broke down? Or that you purposely avoided it?

How do you reconcile fear that has been a foundation of your person since you were old enough to understand who you were, and what you were becoming? I don't know how to trust enough to open the avenue that things might not be ok.

As wrong as it sounds, I wish I could play god sometimes. Wish I could control things like the world was a whiteboard. Wish I could wipe people away with a paper towel. As if I know best. Because in this case, I do, and nothing you can say will convince me otherwise.

I want a day where there is no mention of her name. where I can pretend that she does not exist. that she has no bearing on my life, or yours. That, that particular stitch in time was never sewn. And I will have it if it kills me.

for the people who question my chipperness

apparently, as I have been told quite frequently lately, I'm not chipper enough here. Or well in general. And since I have no desire to fuck around with the in general part, I figured I would give it a whirl in here. As any good problem solver would, I'm going to try to define the problem before approaching the solutions. What exactly is chipper?

In lively spirits; cheerful.
One that chips or cuts: a wood chipper.
1. To chirp or twitter, as a bird.
2. To babble.
To chirp or chirrup.
adj : having a cheerful, lively, and self-confident air;
"looking chipper, like a man...diverted by his own wit"- Frances G. Patton
"life that is gay, brisk, and debonair"- H.M.Reynolds
"walked with a jaunty step";
"a jaunty optimist"

ok. let's take this step by step. "In lively spirits" Now I would argue that I fulfill this requirement quite well, relating it to the more traditional definition of spirits, i.e. alcohol. I try as often as possible to be in lively spirits. And I succeed. Great! "cheerful" this one is a little bit harder. and a little bit more vague, so let's break it down some more.

1. Being in good spirits; merry.
2. Promoting a feeling of cheer; pleasant: a cozy, cheerful room.
3. Reflecting willingness or good humor: contributed her cheerful labor to the project.

well lookee there, "being in good spirits, merry". or drunk if you will. check. "promoting a feeling of cheer; pleasant" whenever people are around me, they always seem to feel better about themselves. You know I can make anyone feel better about themselves, simply by affording them the knowledge that they aren't me. I'd say I have that down. "reflecting willingness or good humor" I have been known to eat those good humor chocolate eclairs while looking in a mirror and I've got the willingness down. I believe it is more commonly referred to as a chump and or sap in slang terms. So check.

let's see on to "one that chips or cuts" now I don't think this is entirely fair or applicable, but I'll be a good sport (see 'chump') it's a stretch but I have been known to deal a mean hand of poker and blackjack, lots of chips involved there. I eat chips. ooh! I also have chips on my shoulders. And I'm always chipping away at something, dedication I call it. As for the cutting, well I'm quite fond of saying "I'll cut you". So..check! "to chirp or twitter" hmm....a bit tougher. I inherited from my father the somewhat annoying habit of always making random noises, some of which could be classified as chirps and or twitters. So check. "to babble" I enter this entire blurty as proof of this claim. check! I'm gonna go ahead and lump "chirp or chirrup" in with "chirp or twitter" you agree with that right? right! so all taken care of. "having a cheerful, lively, and self-confident air" got the cheerful and got the lively already. self-confident.....I have been known to be afflicted with this at times, but it's not generally a permanent condition. "like a man...diverted by his own wit" I'm often, pretty much all the time to be exact, distracted by my own wit. "life that is gay, brisk, and debonair" um....do I really need to address this? Seems pretty self evident. check! "walked with a jaunty step" all my steps are jaunty!! for sure check! "a jaunty optimist" I'm an eternal optimist, much to my great disappointment. check!

there, an in-depth and concise argument that clearly outlines just how chipper I am. This should put all other disagreements to rest. A chipper entry in my blurty. no more lamenting ladies. Proof of my all around chipperness. feel free to apply the same method to yourself to ascertain your level of chipperness.

time in a nutshell, a very vague nutshell

it's been a crazy four weeks. they say to begin at the beginning of long stories, but I haven't one, and I doubt very much an end is in sight. So bear with me as I muddle through the middle.

Anytime you get a group of people together there is going to be an odd one out, someone who doesn't quite fit. More often than not that person is going to be me. Whether I cultivate that role, or it is simply my lot, I have stopped trying to figure out. I believe it comes down to my personality. Watching other people's interactions. Some will grapple, rip, tear, and rend to clutch attention, whether it's everyone's or a certain core person's. I don't. And I have no desire to stand in the way of person who does. Even though it is well within my ability to do so. I dislike cliques. I learned my lesson on groups of people, especially women, the hard way. Several times over. I'm not going to force my presence, if you want to be a duo, trio, quad you can be one and I'll appear when it's time to be a group again. Same goes for if you want to be solitary. I also can't get in line with the circuitous communication. It makes the game of telephone look like a clear concise way to get your message across. All that being said, I have a tendency to act weird. It's something I'm quite upfront about, but it does lend itself to people dissecting my motives, when there are none.

I get tired of people's perceptions being laid on my shoulders, their conclusions constantly confronting me, no matter how I try to correct them. Their double-sidedness. the belief that everything about me is free game, but the same courtesy isn't afforded to me.

I witnessed someone recently proceeding down a path I am quite familiar with. One that nothing good can come from. If I had thought it would have been appreciated, accepted, or even if it would have done any bit of good, I would have sat them down and shared. Explained how I had already been down this road, and the only thing you end up with are broken hearts, severed relationships, and a blending so severe between love and hate that it takes years to sort it all out again, if you ever can.

That old saying, if you love something let it go? It's really true. You have to love someone enough to see them happy without you in their life. You have to love them enough to realize when you are nothing but detrimental. Because if you can't you're just trying to own them. manipulate them. And there is no room for that in a mature relationship. well, if healthy is what you're going for, at any rate. And healthy is probably the last thing you're thinking about. Cause the concept is probably foreign.

Spent a good majority of time saying goodbye to people. Fulfilling a pattern I unknowingly put in motion a long time ago. I don't know how to say goodbye anymore. Emotions really, play no part. It's pretty much right up there with death on my unnatural reaction scale. But it's starting to hit me now. Especially now. When I get the phone calls, and the awkwardness of adjusting to not being in each other's lives anymore. Feeling colder lately.

It's good to know that I still won't take things that are freely given. Still can't quit take that last step. nevermind that it might be put before me, solely for the purpose of my taking it. I like to know I haven't wised up yet. dense and consistent. and chicken. that's me.

It's frustrating for me to see people I care about continually make the same mistakes, choose over and over to surround themselves with the same kind of people. Every person has a history of encounters that has worn holes in their armor. Most tend to choose the same kinds of people that will reinforce the trauma left behind by others. Because it is what they know, what they expect. They wouldn't know what to do with someone who didn't fulfill those expectations. And no matter how apparent it is to me, that they continue this cycle, it isn't exactly like I can point it out to them. who wants to hear and believe that they reinforce every bad thing that has happened to them with every friend or partner they choose? I know I wouldn't want to hear it. especially since I would most likely already be aware of it. But patterns aren't so easy to change. I know I've been guilty of it before. Hell, I'm probably doing it right now. And that's just depressing. I wish it was a situation where I could speak freely. Or more to the point I wish it was a situation that words would magically make better.

Feeling constantly like a vagabond. I did not imagine my life like this. Then again that doesn't mean much since I didn't imagine my life at all. but still. I should have made other choices. But I did not. and it is too late for that now. Just really overwhelmed with wanting my time to be my own. Not feeling indebted or controlled by someone. The guilt and gratitude reach heights that I fear sometimes will drown me.

Karma is no joke. No matter how much I think I've repaid my misspent youth etc. I still get lovely reminders that it's not enough yet. Fitting really for a former punk to get rolled. The poetic justiceness of it all is really the icing on the cake. Especially since I'm most irked about the fact that I got rolled and not that they took my shit. Talk about a blow to the ego. I've gotten soft! and that just sucks.


Adjusting to a new city. Trying to adjust my life. Trying to fit when really I want to be somewhere else. Just trying.

bit o fun

Stolen from E. The point: strike out what I feel doesn't apply to me. I'm easily amused.


MAY:
Stubborn and hard-hearted. Strong-willed and highly motivated. Sharp thoughts. Easily angered. Attracts others and loves attention. Deep feelings. Beautiful physically and mentally. Firm Standpoint. Needs no motivation. Easily consoled. Systematic (left brain). Loves to dream. Strong clairvoyance. Understanding. Sickness usually in the ear and neck. Good imagination. Good physical. Weak breathing. Loves literature and the arts. Loves traveling. Dislike being at home. Restless. Not having many children. Hardworking. High spirited. Spendthrift.

pbbt. and eye rolling.

Do you ever sit and analyze how unhealthy you are? I don't mean physically, though that certainly plays a part. But more your unhealthy patterns, your dysfunction. I do. Which I am sure adds to the unhealthy list. Can't be good for you. I do not think. But it is fascinating.

I make things more difficult than they have to be. Always. Mostly because I am always blind. Not usually tentative. I plow forward taking what comes and doing with it what I feel I can. Which generally is not a lot. My own lacking, never anyone else's. I am not careful with emotions, because I do not understand them. What they do, what they cause, what they effect. Most people will not believe that. But I am careless with them because they have no meaning to me. So it is trial and error. What happens when I do this. It's also why I make things more difficult. Why I beat dead horses.

It effects my relationships with people. I only feel things in the scope of an amputee with phantom pain. I will put everything I have into them, until they are gone. And they are always gone. And will only remember them with that same sort of trickery of nerve synapses. I know that they use to be there. And that they use to be a part of me. I miss them, and it hurts, but it is only an echo of something that has already happened and has no chance of happening again, in the same way.

I don't think people understand this. I want to shake them until they do. As if violence will pave the way for understanding. I do not have enough faith. It requires a leap of faith, to stop having things be an echo, and have them be real. I have enough faith to soldier on, but not enough to build a bridge into permanency. That is where everything begins to fall apart. I am sure I have all the tools needed, just not the knowledge. Not the faith. In this case the two are synonomous, who would have thought that would ever happen? One as etheral a concept as love, and the other equated with concrete, solid. But they are closer than I ever would have believed. With all my studying, learning, looking, and processing I am only now beginning to understand.

I never start anything without being fully aware of its end. And while there is a certain romantic angst to to fatalism, to being tortured and wounded and arty; it does not herald well a bright future.Most of this belongs in a letter I have only begun to write. Which will lay unfinished more than likely.

Because I don't know what my point is. Or what it will change. Or even if it matters.

lightbulbs and hourglasses

time has the ability to bury things. old hurts, wounds, scars, resentment, pain. all the things that crop up between two people who inhabit so much of the other's space. Some things get dealt with and moved passed. Some never get mentioned, they are held silent, in our heads, in our hearts. time buries them equally, till if you're lucky, you forget they exist to some extent.

but unlike real sand, it does not take effort to dig things up between people. it can be so easy, a word or two, and in a flash, you feel as if no time has gone by. or the bittersweet reminder of things that will never leave you completely. It is an ache there is no cure for. you just acknowledge and wait for time to bury it again. or decide that it is too much, and let the person go. leave everything buried. A graveyard to mark who you were to each other once.

sometimes you dance around a buried hurt. One person reluctant to share it, speak it aloud, make it real, have to deal with it. The other completely in the dark, they just keep poking till it pops up, till they can understand what keeps the distance firmly in place. till they understand why they can never really reach the other person, why they can never really see quite all of them anymore. And if they are sucessful, finally things spring into place, everything shifts, becomes sharper around the edges. And you have to deal with the reality of whatever it is. whether the other person knows it or not. and so I am.

he looked at me and said.."well, it's not like I'm going to follow you wherever you go". and I really wanted to say why not? I really wanted to question that belief. why not me?

a light has dawned. all the words he has said, in the moments of weakness, of vulnerability. all the dreams, the plans for the future. the countless hours I have sat listening. what do they mean now?

he has made his choice. over and over again. it has just taken me this long to understand that. now all that's left is for me to understand why wasn't it me? when it should have been. and to decide if I will continue to choose him above all others.

Do I add another graveyard? or just a tombstone?

I did not think I could hate inantimate objects or specific spaces of time. Turns out I can. And quite vehemently too.

when it rains, it pours

I've been told that people liked this better in the beginning, because the entries were more real, more about me, and though I don't like to admit it; they are right. In the beginning I did not have to worry about the consequences of my actions. Slowly this has become more about what I feel other people will be ok with and not what I really want to write. But the ground has become shaky and I don't know the ramifications of anything I might say or do anymore. So it has come down to self censorship, which I abhor, or just processing everything internally. I tend to lean toward the latter naturally, but in true me like fashion I am choosing neither one at the moment. So here's the good old college try, the contents of my head as they come.

There is so much going on, happening, taking shape, taking form. And at the same time, nothing much is happening. And that's really the most accurate way to describe my life for more months than I would like to count. To process the emotions that are actually taking place I tend to need to disengage and really look at myself. And most nights I am not able to do that. My attentions are required elsewhere. And quite honestly I probably don't want to look. But lately I've been moving more and more towards disengaging. Because my level of frustration is reaching a point where it's leaking out onto other people.

I've always sectioned off people in my life, in reference to what they can know about me. Or what I will share with them. Keeping the different sections quite separate. Living a splintered life is hard on a person, it's even harder when you are the one that insists on splintering it. I quite often find myself, even if I want to speak, having no one to tell it too. Because while they may be perfectly happy to listen, the backstory, the history I would have to relate in order to have them be on the same page as I am. In order to have them really understand, is too much effort for a moment of weakness. But more and more the dichotomy is wearing thin and I would enjoy someone who I could talk to. The problem being with this is that once you bring someone in, inevitably at some point it is them you have to talk about, and then where do you go? someone else? too much talking behind backs for me, when it should be communicated to the person you're talking about in the first place. Perhaps I'll finally start feeling better about putting all my eggs in one basket and seeing which ones don't crack.

Do you think you reach a point where death doesn't mean anything anymore? I've seen it too much, dealt with it's after effects, heard it from other people, held them while they fell apart too much to process it anymore. My friend's cousin died this morning, and I found myself struggling to respond with anything that was halfway helpful. It's probably not the healthiest disposition to have, but I'm somewhat reluctant to change it. Sometime soon I'll be facing it again, and I would rather be numb for it, than "normal". Depsite how gruesome that may seem.

What do you do when you have lost common ground? When you can no longer touch them though they might be sitting right next to you? What do you do when there is nothing left to say? When you don't want to push for scrutiny and you don't want to be scrutinized? What do you do when you learn more from someone else than you do them? Where do you go when you've forgotten where you began? Do you keep talking even when they don't believe a thing you say? Do you push for definition, just to make your life easier? Do you become what they want you to be? because they need it? because it's maybe, the only thing you can give? Where is the line between banter and lies? How do you explain frustration when all they will see is recrimination? How do you point out double standards and blatant falsehoods? Why bother? How do you see past your own jealousies to the point of the whole matter? How do you stop feeling second best? How do you stop it mattering? because it really shouldn't. How do you learn to accept as it comes? As it goes?

Do you ever feel like you're moving entirely too fast and there is nothing you can do to arrest the motion? And that even if you could, you're not so sure you want to. Have you ever felt that you are living with lies no matter how hard you try to embody truth? That you dread the time when people realize it as well, you dread it with a stomach churning sort of worry, but you welcome it at the same time, because then you no longer have any appearances to keep up, and when they leave (and they will, in some way, shape, or form) you will be able to say, I knew it all along. Triumphant even in your misery.

I dive right into situations I am not familiar with. I am a risk taker. I don't want to think about it, I just want to do it, and see what happens. That doesn't mean that I don't think, it's just that I choose, and choose rather quickly to not pay attention to the consequences. More and more I find myself almost drowning in the deep end. I would like to take my time, but it seems I am not capable of it. And sometimes when I am not able to cram my head with other things, the what ifs come to call. The inevitable outcome that will be quite painful, and in some scenarios, detrimental to my future. Assuming I have one. This is why I don't gamble, I will always take the long shot. Just to see. People mistakenly believe I have no hope or faith, quite the opposite is true, I have too much.

There is a difference between not wanting someone to change, and accepting them, or things about them as is. Having the former does not always precipitate the latter. And if you really really think about that. it's a scary realization.

I've begun to tell people that I'm leaving. And while I've always known come september I was leaving. I'm sure most people didn't believe me. I'm quite positive I'm making another bad choice in a string of them, but it's the whole headfirst affliction I have going on. why not? My father was the biggest surprise. Considering the amount of interaction our entire relationship consists of. That he was unhappy caught me off guard. I had always assumed he resented my presence. Though whether that was a holdover of my feelings from when I was a child or bore a hint of truth, I don't know. That he wants me to stay, I have no idea what to do with. I'm sure my mother feels the same, but she resigned herself long ago to losing us all. And for the most part, she wants that. Though there is a core of resentment that I can't really hold against her. I've got two months to get to a point where I feel ok leaving. And I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen. Too much left undone. Left unsaid. Too much left unknown about where I'm going and what I'm doing.

Boo has always known, he knows when I say something is going to happen, it is. But really grasping that is another thing. We have spent the majority of our lives apart now. And it never changes, when I am gone, he misses me, and I am left to deal with the phone calls, phone calls that take a toll on my conscience as well as my emotions. We miss so much of each other's lives. But when I am in a position to have us be closer, he grates against it with everything he has. I don't understand, to some extent I don't even care anymore. I listen to him waffle back and forth about leaving. Listen to him say he would come with me, just to know that he will change his mind again. Listen to how he wants to leave here, but when the time comes to do something about it, he flakes. I understand. I understand his motivations probably better than he does. But it doesn't stop my frustration with the whole situation. Or the fact that this separation might be the one we cannot gap. And where do we go from there?

these are the contents of my head...