we have been talking for four hours. this is amazing.

dear you,

hi.

i just wanted to tell you how much you’ve meant to me this past month. it hasn’t really been a happy one for me, but the moments i’ve spent talking to you have made my world drastically better. it’s not just because i seem to have suddenly developed a crush on you (i know, it was a surprise to me too). you let me talk about my family and you don’t overwhelm me with pity. you ask me what my dreams are and you tell me i’ll be a good mother. no one’s told me that before. you listen to me ramble about my weird childhood writings and you laugh at my silly jokes. you tell me you want to write novels and i can’t wait to read them.

i didn’t even think i’d miss you. and now, i’m so so very excited to see you again. i can’t wait to hug you (i’ve only hugged you once but i swear even before i knew you’d mean so much i thought it was the best hug i’d ever had) and to sit with you and a cup of tea for hours on that purple couch. i think that you’ll be the healthiest crush i’ve ever had, and even though i really hope something happens, if it doesn’t, that’s okay. just please don’t ever stop talking to me.

thanks.

love,
me

it’s true,

i could tell you these things.

i could tell you the thoughts that i lock away in my head. i could tell you things that would scare you, that would make you worry constantly, that would make you watch my every move. i could tell you things that would make you be a little more careful with me, that would force you to constantly wonder if i’m okay, that would turn you paranoid because you’ll always know there’s something i’m not saying.

and a part of me wants to tell you these things so i don’t have to deal with them anymore.

but it’s my fault i have this burden, it’s my fault i asked the questions, it’s my fault i kept caring. and even if you did ask all the questions, i’d never pass it onto you.

too many personalities

“yes! i made it through two whole days without tears!”

it scares me that this was a legitimately happy thought in my head. why do i change so drastically when i leave school? why can’t i retain that positive optimistic attitude i have there? i’m afraid that i’m going to have to completely undo myself again when i get there (only 11 days, 12 hours, 13 minutes) but maybe i’ll be able to slip back into my college persona. i so so hope that i can.

dealing

it’s weird seeing him only four days after you held him as he fell apart like you’re sure no one’s ever fallen apart before. you had waited in that too long line for an hour, and though you had seen him at the very beginning you couldn’t just run over and comfort him because it’s just not done. so instead you waited, crying your own tears every time you caught a glimpse of his red-rimmed eyes. and finally, you’re in the same room. you have to stare down, because if you don’t, you’ll see him and start crying again and now you need to be strong. or worse, you’ll see his brother. yet when you get close to the casket you can’t help but look. and you curse your eyes (as you will for days) because you can almost swear that his chest is inflating with a breath, that his eyelids are fluttering, even if you know it’s impossible.

still, you do not cry.

first come his parents, who seem so grateful to see you that you can’t help but marvel at their poise because you know if it was you, you would be a heap on the floor. they’re followed by an awkward handshake with the brother you don’t know and brief hugs with the brothers you do. and finally, you’ve reached him. he looks like he’s been crying for days but you’re pretty sure no tears have been shed since the wake has started.

but suddenly his head is buried in your shoulder and you’re so glad you’re wearing heels because you don’t know when he got so tall and he’s shaking and you can’t hold on tight enough and you’re trying so very hard to hold back your own tears as you whisper “baby, baby, i’m so sorry, i’m so so sorry” and you don’t know what else to say because there are no words for a time like this and you’ve never seen him cry and even though he was never the strong masculine type, you have still never seen him cry and you never ever ever want to let him go and he doesn’t seem to want to go but you both know that this is a ceremony and there are rules so eventually you draw back.

when you see him again, it’s a day later and he’s with his brothers, guiding the casket down the aisle. his parents, his brothers look numb but he is crying and within moments you are a mess, tears falling onto the too large dress you borrowed from your mother. and you hate to but you have to look down because if he sees you he’ll see the tears and that will somehow make this awful awful day so much worse. and suddenly you are so mad. you are so mad at this church you’re in and the idea of religion because if there was a god then sweet little eleven year old boys would live to chase you around the yard again. you’re mad at the friend on your right because she doesn’t know the family, she barely even knows him so what the hell is she doing there? and you’re mad at the friend on the left because she’s sad too and you don’t want her to hug you and the only one you want to comfort is him. and you’re mad you’re not at school because those are the people you feel close to and those are the ones you want comfort from but they’re not here. and most of all you’re mad at yourself because for one day in your fucking life you need to stop being selfish but you just can’t. but none of it matters because he’s coming back up the aisle and one look at his face means you’re crying again.

at the reception, his eyes are finally dry. “i think i’ve cried myself out” he tells you but he warns you that if he starts again you’ll notice his spontaneous combustion. and you make a joke, saying that in a dickens novel you read someone spontaneously combusted and you’re hoping to find out if that could actually happen even though you know it can’t. he laughs, as does his brother who was never meant to be the youngest in the family but who suddenly is. and you smile too but you grab both of their hands and hold them tightly.

but now he’s here and you don’t know what to do. it has only been four days since you saw him break. how are you supposed to act? you choose to ignore it, instead focusing your energy into the normal. you try to make him laugh, you still try to beat him in card games, you still use sarcasm. but you cringe at every mention of the word death or family, and you sit a little closer to him on the couch and you speak to him a little softer and you hope he doesn’t notice but you want to be there for him because it is so important that you are. and you wonder if he’s doing the right thing, being with you and your friends so soon. because even though it’s what you would do, his family is real and important in a way that yours will never ever be. it would be okay for you to leave your family but you don’t know if it’s okay for him to leave his. but in a time like this, his needs come first so you don’t mention it. you are just glad to have him there and you stay too late and you laugh too loud and you hug him that one extra time before you leave. but it’s okay because he is the smartest person you know and you think he knows what you’re trying to say, even if the words won’t come out.

Dear world,

11 year olds should not die. It’s time for you to fucking shape up.

you’re not going to start saying sorry, sorry.

new year in six hours. whoop de fucking doo.

(it’s amazing how apathetic being away from school and having no one to celebrate with seems to make me)

on the upside, i have great music, great books, and a potential new crush.

meme time

a fun-ish meme i used to do on livejournal (oh, the days of livejournal…):

Post the first sentence/phrase/whatever of each month:

January-May: Blog did not exist.
June: i’m told that you have to be past something to write about it. but why? i mean it’s never stopped me before. (because I had to start the blog with bad poetry?)
July: I did make it into the city today, but it was somewhat of a disappointment. (A bad day turned good turned way too self analytical)
August: Apropos this post, I actually do love summer. (Getting into a rhythm and all that…)
September: If you’re lonely when you’re alone, you’re in bad company. (a quote, which only made it into september by 3 minutes)
October: god, it feels so good to even just think i’m going to write. i’ve missed it. (otherwise known as the month i blogged a grand total of twice)
November: okay guys and gals, i’m going to blogging hardcore this month. (FAIL)
December:  I just had my first final! … but there are two more & an essay left. (that was last week, basically)

So obviously I’m not asleep. Still lonely, just trying to will it away with Scrubs. It’s not really working. I don’t actually think I’ve felt this way since I started college. I know I felt worse over the summer and a whole fuck of a lot worse over the past two years, but I’ve gotten used to general happy feeling. Since it is the next day on the east coast, there’s only 28 days and ten hours and 19 minutes until i can get back into my room at college (at home?).

the way that i was when i used to know

the biggest problem with being in california is that when i feel alone at night, there’s no one to talk to. all of my friends are in bed. and tonight i feel so very lonely. i’m trying to find something that will make me feel better on the internet, but it’s just emphasizing the aloneness. i think i’ll go to bed.

followed your breadcrumbs, they led to the sea

i’m working on making a schedule for myself so that i have things to accomplish each day until i go back to school. i think it will make me have less time to cry. my family fights too much and it fucks me up and whenever we do get along i spend the whole time anticipating the next fight.

this was going to be a happy nothings post.

happy nothings:

tumblr is fucking addictive.

i’m rediscovering my love for afterellen and paying attention to my lesbian half.

i read 200 pages today. score. gothic novels are fucking weird and hilarious.