Missing Piece of Me

So I wrote this last week on my iPhone, I know, but am now just getting around to posting. Sorry I've been so MIA, promise I'll post something that makes up for it, soon.

I find myself at night laying in bed with my arms out stretched like I'm reaching for something that isn't there anymore. And it feels like there's a part of me missing. And I hate that I feel that way. 'It was only I year' I tell myself. It's been three months, just fucking get over it. And then I think of what it is that I think I'm missing. The feel of his warm skin under my cool one? His deep breathes in the silent night? The feeling that when I wake up I know it'll be to his smiling face?

And so then I think of the time passed with him. The nights we'd lay in bed and I couldn't help but doubt that I wasn't the only one that laid in his arms, about what other girls he was possibly talking to. But then I'd take a deep breath and think, 'this isn't me. I trust him, it's just gotta be the nature of our arrangement.' it was true, part of me was always searching for the one thing that allowed him to be mine...a title, an idea, a concept. I knew what I wanted, I just didn't have it at the time. So I continued with my life, school work and rehearsals, all the while trying to map out my future and trying to figure out where he fit in. So I checked his state for dance companies to see if I could make my dream plausible for us. It wouldn't be any easier then Boston, but there was at least a dance scene. But I had to be rational, it's not like we were dating and although I loved him and only ever wanted that feeling returned, I knew it was crazy to think this way. So I buried those thoughts deep inside like a dark secret, its not like he was suddenly going to love me one day . And then that day came and like the glittering flame of a birthday candle, it was there one second and gone the next. His love. The tiny amount of claim that I held over him.

So I lay in bed, what? Missing...him? Is that why my arms are stretched out? No, I don't think it is. For, though it's taken me almost three months to understand, I don't miss that person that decided on a whim one day to finally utter the words I'd desperately waited a year for them to say. The words that were the response to the words of my tattoo, written in a language he knew how to speak. It was always there in front of him, the thing that I so ardently needed. And for the moment to come and just fizzle out? I use to think it was that, that scared him away and into the arms of another woman. So I'd blame myself, I mean I'd hurt him so bad in the past, why wouldn't it surprise me that the moment he finally admitted his true feelings for me, that he'd run as fast and far away as he could from the one person who could and had hurt him.

So again I ask myself why is it then that I'm not missing him?...to be honest I miss the man he was in the late hours of the night when we'd lay in bed together. There's no mask, no hiding who are, when you're in that moment. So if not him I miss then what? That honest moment? That's what I miss. The ability to have that moment when you're laying in bed, and you can't hide who you are anymore. You muscles relax until your bones sink into your mattress and your mind travels through all the ideas, memories, and feelings that you refused to face during the day. The moment when you can just cry knowing that the other person isnt going anywhere. The moment when you can just stare into a person's soul. The moment when there's no need for words and a simple quiver of your lip or wrinkle of your brow tells the person you're laying next to what exactly is on your mind.


So I lay with my arms outstretched, to remind myself that there was a time when those honest moments truly existed and when my hands finally touch something, those moments will be back.


Someday.

Trash.

I keep finding your shit everywhere...random photos on my latop, folder in my favorites bar of your clothes, some little thing in my room that has some connection with you. Gah. I should probably start deleting you from my life. Make a folder on my computer and shove all the files that I can't seem to make myself delete and store you in there. You'd think in typical girl fashion I would have burned all photos of us [all five of them], burned the clothes you got me for christmas, throw out the necklace you got me then too, deleted video files so I couldn't watch them anymore...and yet I haven't. I've kept a cool head about me...minus the random "fuck you"s that slip out when I'm drinking or pissed. I can't rationalize getting rid of the gifts because I like them and they're mine, not yours...I can't rationalize burning the photos because it was a time of my life, however I may burn those picture frames I made for us...and to be completely honest I forgot about half the things on my laptop that are from you. You were my best friend and my lover. And I'd thought you'd still be my best friend...but I'm thinking the jury's still out on that one...

Confession.

So recently I have allowed my negative and bitter feelings to sort of, maybe, almost totally comsume my life. After some reflective time outside today and rereading some recent text messages I sent while intoxicated, I realized I need some readjustment of my feelings. I admit I internalize things, I don't like to get unwanted attention, I don't like inconviencing people, I don't like being a burden. So imagine my surprise when it seems this starts to backfire on me.

I've been depressed about the lack of control of my life. No job, no one to love me, no moving to New York for another year, no friends left in my home town. I have never, and I repeat never had an eating problem before...I love food. I eat like a fat kid, normally. But I'd say the last 1 1/2 to 2 weeks I haven't  really been eating. I'd have a yogurt or cereal for breakfast, eat no lunch, munch on some wheat thins, and then have some of whatever my parents made for dinner.I just haven't felt hungry cause I haven't really been doing much besides lounging around my house. I'd say it was just me adjusting to the sudden summer weather, since me and heat always seems to disagree at the beginning of the summer...but this weekend kinda tipped me off that I need more food.

Friday. I had a bagel from dunkin dounts with strawberry cream cheese and an iced coffee and went to the beach. A small cup of ice cream and I can't remember what for dinner.

Saturday. Yogurt in the morning. Large gatorade after a 2 mile walk. Then had all of 6 raviolis for dinner, before driving to Onset to go to Britteny's family's cookout. I had some more wheat thins with hummus.


I woke up Sunday morning at 4 a.m. in a dead sweat and pounding headache. I figured because I feel asleep without my AC on that was reason, so I turned it on and went back to sleep. Fast forward to 7 a.m. when I wake up feeling like some kicked my head in, my headache was that bad, and to top it off I felt nauseous. I knew I needed fluids and food asap. So I picked my body up out of my bed and journeyed to go downstairs. I didn't make it to my bedroom door before my eyes went black, head was pulsing to my heartbeat, and I felt like I was gonna overheat [even though my AC was set to 69 degrees]. I knew this was not good. I continued heading downstairs, at the bottom of the stairs my eyes went black again, so I sat on the bottom step for a moment. Got myself an OJ, gatorade and banana and made my way back up to my room. I then forced myself to down the OJ and banana before going back to bed. When I woke up at 10 a.m. I felt like the things before had never happened. I knew I probably shouldn't drink or go to the cookout, but fuck that. It was my fault that I hadn't eaten and I was not going to miss having a good time, plus I felt fine. And to be completely honest besides the accident with my foot, I can say that I've felt healthy and fine since then. Minus the morning after drinking for 12 hours, I never eat the morning after drinking.

Sunday. To go orange juice and a banana. Large gatorade. Bowl of cereal and then off to Sturbridge for my friend's cookout/birthday party. Starting drinking vodka and sprite. Had some clam chowdah and macaroni salad. More vodka and sprite. Triscuits. More vodka and sprite.
Monday. 5 bites of a dunkin donuts bagel with strawberry cream cheese. A hot dog before going to the ER to get my foot looked at. Wheat thins and some other snack things after.

I have started eating again this week, forcing myself to. Partly because I know I need to and partly because of the antibiotics I'm on. I guess besides Sunday morning, my tip off was that I've lost 4 pounds in the last week. I haven't weighed myself this week, Saturday was the last day I did. I weighed in at 126. [Now I know I'm skinny and I'm not stating this to brag]. When I left school I was about 133/135. Sometime in June I settled into 130 because of some lose of what I assume to be muscle tone and the summer weather. Due to my height I shouldn't really be 126. I'm borderline underweight/normal. My BMI is 18.6, anything below 18.5 is underweight. I know that I shouldn't have used food to control any part of my life. I don't need to be on a diet, so not eating isn't really an option for me. I acknowledge that I am indeed depressed. I can't just not eat because I'm depressed. Getting skinnier isn't going to bring him back or make me prettier. I still need calories even if I'm not as active as I used to be. I promise everyone that I will start taking care of myself again. Last week was my version of rock bottom. I don't like being there and I don't want to go back there. I will not allow myself to alter myself because of someone else conscience or unconsciously. I will not be weak. I will not be weak anymore.

A hope for the future...

About a month ago I was officially diagnosed with HPV, or Human Papillomavirus. (This is a fact that all of maybe five people knew about, and now anyone who reads my blog will know too.) I guess part of me just wanted to finally share this because of all the unease I've been having about it lately. Something like 1 out of every 2 sexually active females have it. And for most it will clear up on it's own. And then there's me. Not only do I have HPV, but I have a high-risk strand, which means my risk for cervical cancer is greatly increased. I told myself that I wouldn't write about my sex life on my blog anymore, but this has crossed far over just that portion of my life. When I went to my gynecologist in the middle of May, I was given my test results from the biopsies taken during my previous visit. The high-risk strand was confirmed, nothing new. However I received some other news, I had an infection in my cervix. The thing about HPV is that it creates abnormal cell growth and it's the cell growth that eventually leads to cancer if allowed to continue to grow.

I was given 3 options for treatment:
1. Do nothing and wait. Come back in 3 months for another pap smear and see if there are any changes. Positive or negative.
2. Have the abnormal cell growths frozen off and removed. However, this might not get the infection in my cervix.
3. Have a procedure called LEEP done, which involves a laser and unfortunately due to my age it can impact my ability to carry a baby to term or even conceive when I'm older.

Given those options what was I to do, but take option one. This choice could impact my life for negative, so why not air on the side of caution. It's been maybe 3 weeks since I made that decision. My partner at the time was relieved to hear that I was okay and was okay with everything as long as I was happy with the choice I made. I was and still am, however, I guess now more then before I've started to realize how I've slightly changed since learning that I had this. I strongly know now that I do want to carry my own child, and the thought that I may not be able to have a say in that due to this is a little saddening. However, it's still very early and things can change for the positive, but I also have to acknowledge that things can still change for the worse. Besides having the idea that my choice to carry my own child could be ripped out of my hands at any time, I've also come to realize that since I was told I have this at the beginning of May that sex just hasn't been the same. I've had two sexual encounters since learning of my diagnosis and I faked (for the most part) enjoyment because I was so worried that part of me was broken. Even now I haven't wanted to have sex in weeks. I know part of that is due to my falling out with my partner, but a large part of that is because I feel like how could anyone want to be with me? I am broken in a sense. What man wants to marry a woman who can't keep his family name alive? Or what's sexy about the girl at the bar with no desire to have sex? It's fucked up, but I always turn to my partner in my head for help, but he's gone. He has a new object of affection, so why would he want to deal with his old, broken one? And maybe that's one of the things that scares me so much is no matter how much he said, "This isn't going to make me run away. I'm not gonna run away from you because of this." On some level in my mind it still feels like that's why he left. Why should he have to deal with my issues, not like they affect him. And here I am sitting in my room, writing this blog and crying because even now I can't work up the courage to just talk to him. Even though I'm upset and we said we'd always be there for each other no matter what, I'd rather write this blog for the entire world to see. To share my story, and maybe, just maybe some other girl out there with a similar story to me will know that she's not alone...

Alive again...

I have been utterly horrible at writing here. What excuse can I use? Senior was so hetic, I never had time, I just didn't feel like it, blah blah blah... Well I've got shit for excuse. What can I say of my life and my thoughts of the last 5 to 6 months? I feel that filtering through all the thoughts, memories, and experiences of the last months will not only be an emotional overloaded, a jumble of thoughts, but also a non contextual look at my life. It is extremely difficult to justify the feelings I had without then explaining the situation, but then that too needs to be given background context. I must say that, that is too much for me to emotional handle right now. I had my ups and I had my downs. I graduated college and I left friends behind. I had dreams grow and dreams falter. It seems these days that I find myself in a crossroad more unusual then most recent college grads. Besides the normal, transition back into my childhood home under my parents rules, accepting that my friends are no longer a couple rooms down the hall, and the "what the fuck am I doing with my life" mindset, it seems I have other things to overcome. I'm in a transitional phase from lover to best friend, coming to terms with picking up my life to actually move to NYC, and the "my life is not shit, my life is shit" mindset. My mood seems to change as quickly as my thoughts do about my life, which change as often as my mood does. It's a nasty cycle and seeing these days that only time I leave my room more or less my house is to drive my brother to work everyday, it cycles through and through and through. I've taken to redesigning my entire room in order to create a different vibe in it and to always keep my sanity. I've also been contemplating writing stories again, you know force myself to write like a page or 2 a day. I feel obilgated to say that I'm not sorry how my life has turned out, I think its heading in the right direction. I also feel obligated to say that regardless of how things may turn out in the next couple of days or weeks, the tears I may shed and the angry posts I may write....that the last year has been one of the most eye opening, soul finding, spiritual awakening, and loving year I've had in all 21 years of my life. I am thankful for every moment, even the heart wrenching moments when it seemed the tears would never dry and time would never tick forward. I have loved and been loved in return. I have grown and shrank. Simply put the last year has been the year of me. A year of things I wanted and a year of experiences I earned. A year of dates, fights, late night talks, hysterical phone calls, alcohol induced confessions, laughter, and press of another's body.

At heart I'm a Time Traveller.

I'm having extremely mixed feelings today. I can't decide if its because my hormones are going crazy right now or I just am generally feeling off. I'm leaning more towards the hormones, but anyways. So I was listening to some possible Showcase song choices, because crazy me is trying to choroegraph four peices to audition in about a month. But as the songs came on all I could think about was "How is this my life?" I want to so badly at this exact moment to be October of my Junior year. I would have made completely different choices. I first off would have given you a chance a hell of a lot sooner. I wouldn't have put myself through the bullshit. I would have tried to more things outside of Dean. I would have done so many things different. I'm not necessarily unhappy with the way my life is right now, I just don't like the circumstances that are pulling at the strings of future. There is so much doubt in my life right now that I guess I'm finally feeling a little unnerved by it. I'll go to class in an houra nd be fine, but right now I just want a second chance at the last 365 days of my life starting......now.

Not Such an Easy A.

I saw the movie "Easy A" tonight and now it's got me thinking. I've been doing some thinking about my life. For anyone who's seen the movie you know she gets the guy at the end....The whole movie is about self worth and it's ironic that my conseling session this week brought that up. I need to feel enough self worth. Enough to be with a guy and enough to feel that I deserve a good guy. Let's look at my track record...hmmm Guy A dragged me all over the emotion spectrum; Guy B never talked to me after sleeping with me; Guy C showed some real promise until I made one mistake and can't move past it; Guy D gave me happiness for an extremely brief time and who knows what the fuck is going to happen with it, my guess would be nothing. The connecting factor between all the Guys is how I allowed myself to be treated with. I never felt like I was good enough and I just wanted someone to be there so I went along with things even when I found them to be shitty. Granted Guys C and D are the best half of the Guys. Sigh. I deserve to be with a guy who wants to be with me. I deserve to be with someone cares about me. I deserve to be with a guy who can forgive me. I deserve to be with a guy who will love me. I deserve so much better than what I've had before. I deserve to be happy. I'm tired of putting in all the work. I'm tired of being the creative of one. I want the guy that's gonna surprise me with flowers the day a casting list goes up, because if I make it they say "congrats" and if I don't make it they say, "I'm sorry". I want to be thought of in a way that doesn't make the person feel anger. I hate that my reputation is "easy", "sex crazed", "willing to spread for anyone". Fuck off. It was one fucking time and one fucking mistake. And some people say that it was almost four months ago and no one's judging me anymore. Fuck you they're not. Sure some people just say whatever about it now...and other it's either something they hate me for or like to make jokes at me for. I want to feel less shitty about enjoying sex and wanting to be with someone sexually that I have some emotional feelings for. I want to be able to call someone to make plans with. I wanna go on dates. I want to be with someone who wants to be with me. I want someone to gve me a reason to be happy with my life. I want someone to proud of the things I'm doing with my life. I want to have someone come see the shows I'm in and actually care about how my rehearsals are going. I want an equal partner and to not feel like I'm always making up for something I've done wrong. I want a new start.

A Year in Review

So I've been thinking about where and what I was doing this time last year. A year ago I was unemployed, laying around the house waiting for school to start and looking forward to the year ahead. Boy, if I only knew then what I know now. It seems this year I'm about in the same position, only I'm employed.

I've honestly been thinking about my junior year a lot in the last couple days. The year was a rollercoaster of ups and downs....I've definitely experienced every emotion on the human spectrum from love to grief and anger to joy. Let's start off with the fall shall we?

I started the fall semester off eager to prove myself and with a naive idea that nothing could go wrong. I had some great times with an amazing group of friends that would seem to carry on through out the year. I also started to dig myself into a hole in my love life. I don't why I ever thought things would work out for me. I look back at some of those early hangout times and laugh. Really? What the fuck? Those times are a blur of clipboard making, techno music, and late night duties. The semester started on such a high that it surprises me that my cynical side didn't see the downfall coming. Between the fallout of my roommates and the spiral downward into charming bullshit, winter break couldn't have come sooner.

Spring semester came early with my early return to campus for the Kennedy Center festival rehearsals. Being at the festival was one of the best weeks of the year hands down, where I met 4 great guys who'd I become friends with. I only talk to 2 still, I wonder whatever happened to those West Point boys? All the shit from the fall semester made me want to make the spring semester ten time better and to yet again prove myself amoung my peers. I struggled in my love life again, fighting to kick a habit. It makes me cringe to look back at those "times" and to think that I allowed myself to be victim to all the bullshit. Then of course the semester started to come to an end. I had to come to terms with losing people. Graduating friends and a dying grandfather always seemed to be on the back of my mind. Graduation itself scared the shit out of me. I honestly didn't think I'd be able to survive this summer.

My dying grandftaher complicated my family life to the point where weekend graduation parties couldn't come soon enough for me to escape. Then he passed and things overall started to look good in my life. Then that didn't really go to plan, my own doing...then came the 2 weeks of hell at Dean for orientation. There were times during those 2 weeks when I wasn't sure if I'd ever get to be my carefree self again or if the darkness would ever end. Fastforward a month and a half and here I am. I don't pretend that everything is perfect in my life, but as odd as it sounds I'm generally happy....even if some people think that my life is a little complicated and etc. I'm happy and I don't care anymore. Everytime I've ever planned anything out in my head it's been shit on. So I'm just gonna go with the flow. I'm going to follow my heart. I'm going to live every second of the upcoming school year. I'm live the sorrow, joy, and frustration that is bound to happen. I'm young and mistakes are meant to be made. Seems like a good motto to live the year by.

Nothing to do, no where to be.

I've decided that nothing in my life will replace the feeling of this. Just laying in bed cuddling. I don't know why I never want to get out of bed when I wake up next to you. Nor do I know why I can't keep my hands off of you. You're like an addiction. A good one. I like knowing that when I wake you're right next to me. Driving back today was a touch drive, not only because of the distance and time of day, but cause I don't know when the next time I'll have you in my bed is. I have a lot of feeling swirling around my brain right now about last night. I fear if I voice them, in a couple more hours, I won't have a reason to feel them. So I'm going to keep riding the high I have from last night/this morning and hope its enough to get me through the next couple of days.

The sun sets & rises

Tomorrow is a new day, just as yesterday was. I've decided I must make an honest attempt at living my life. For weeks now all I've been doing is ponderng my life and clinging to memories of the past. "It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards." 'Tis true. If you live long enough in the past then you miss all of the future. Coming to terms with how I've shaped my life won't always be easy. I know now that when I truely care for someone, allowing myself to make reckless descisions isn't the best way to test my feelings for that person. I've got a lot to learn and a lot more mistakes to make. I can say the month I spent with him was not one of them, but wasting the last few weeks most certainly was. I know I'll miss him for a good part of the summer, and when I return to school in the fall, the campus will randomly remind me of him. I will not allow myself to be sad any longer. I will not allow myself to talk myself into giving up. I'm a fighter. I take risks. I took a risk on loving him and I took a risk on pushing it to the limit. I will continue to take risks as I enjoy my summer and start my senior year of college. He will not be the last person I love nor care about. I will not focus on the negatives of my life. I will embrace my mistakes and move forward. My last couple of entries clearly show my rollercoaster of emotions, but I'm not sorry for the way I feel. I write what I feel and right now I'm putting all that shit behind me and looking into the sunset waiting for the sun to rise on a new day. I will go to more auditions this summer. I will do more photoshoots. I will get my choreography into a Boston show. I will have the best summer that I can.

Risk more than others think is safe. Care more than others think is wise. Dream
more than others think is practical. Expect more than others think is possible.

I'm getting this out of my system...

I miss the way you called me Sarah Jean. I miss how your beautiful brown eyes use to stare into mine when we layed in bed. I miss how you used to squeeze my hand. I miss the way your lips felt against mine when we kissed. I miss the way you used to bite me and make me laugh. I miss seeing you use your magic powers on your brother. I miss how we'd talk everyday. I miss when I knew my phone going off was you. I miss making plans with you. I miss when could just lay in bed and talk. I miss our late night talks. I miss hating the birds chirping in morning when we still hadn't gone to bed. I miss hanging out in your awkwardly shaped single in Houston watching movies. I miss being able to walk across campus to see you. I miss walking back to my room at 8 am, knowing waking up early was worth it to spend the night with you. I miss our skype sessions. I miss how you loved my body, even when I didn't. I miss how you called me beautiful. I miss how you'd tease me for my dislike of girly things. I miss you letting me be a girl with you. I miss you holding me when I cried. I miss seeing you almost everyday. I miss sleeping in the same bed as you. I miss the way you'd snore and I'd know you were asleep even though we'd been talking 5 minutes ago. I miss feeling your breath on my neck as I slept. I miss taking care of you. I miss being nervous at the idea of eating dinner with your parents. I miss watching Arrested Development with you. I miss you stroking my face. I miss making out with you. I miss the sex. I miss you allowing me to take things slow and helping me. I miss the idea of showering with you. I miss watching Are You Afraid of the Dark with you. I miss cuddling on the couch with you. I miss being able to let my hands wonder your body. I miss being at parties with you and knowing I'd be going home with you. I miss taking walks with you. I miss knowing it was okay to care about you as much as I do. I miss when I'd get jealous about you talking about all the other girls you'd ever been with. I miss wondering what they had that made you want to be with them before me. I miss having a reason to think that you were mine. I miss the smile I'd get saying your name. I miss waking up next you. I miss driving in the car while you sang Ke$ha's "Your Love is My Drug". I miss your encouragement that I'd do fine at an audition. I miss knowing it was okay if either of us cried at graduation. I miss being more concerned about you then what my friends thought. I miss being mad at you for stupid reasons. I miss you making fun of my Edward Cullen pillow. I miss you calling Hello Kitty, Hi Kitty. I miss you getting excited when Gaga would fall asleep on me. I miss that you didn't care my room was a complete mess the first time you saw it. I miss when you'd talk to me like an intellgent person. I miss hearing stories of your freshman year. I miss going through your box of memories. I miss meeting your best friend. I miss that you cuddled with me on your bed even though your friends were there. I miss you thinking me being drunk was funny. I miss when I'd call you a vagina and then admit in private that I didn't think you were. I miss talking about our interactions before we liked each other with new insight. I miss talking about you going to Smith. I miss thinking that you'd be visiting me in the fall at school. I miss the idea of living with you. I miss you helping me pack up my apartment. I miss our goodbye kisses, when we didn't know the next time we'd see each other. I miss being able to share inside jokes with you. I miss being able to text you when I couldn't text anyone I was with because it was about them. I miss learning new things about you. I miss you learning new things about me. I miss that you didn't care I had so many cats. I miss that you'd talk to me about my Grandfather. I miss that you shared yourself with me. I miss thinking of things to do on your birthday. I miss making you things, that I'd never actually end up giving you. I miss looking at coloring books and ragging on you, when I actually liked that you colored. I miss knowing that my most embrassing moments didn't scare you away. I miss being able to think about you without wanting to cry. I miss your trust in me. I miss you caring about me. I miss being yours. But most of all I miss you. I know I'll never have you again. I had my chance and I was an idiot. You tell me to be easy on myself and forgive myself. You say that I'm not a monster or a bad person, I just made a stupid choice. Well I miss being able to agree with you. I pass the days thinking about when I'll be able to talk to you and then scolding myself. I need to focus on something else. You're not mine anymore, I lost you. I lost your trust and faith in me. Its funny I was typing the previous sentence and accidentally wrote, "I love y-" freudian slip I guess.

I've walked miles in your shoes...

I've taken up walking in order to sort out my thoughts. I pretty much walk everyday. On average I walk a mile a day, yesterday I walked four. Sometimes I walk to the park and sit to think. I've passed anywhere from 3o minutes to an hour sitting there by myself. I've even taken up laying in Grant Filed staring at the night sky. Yet, still with all this time for thinking I find myself struggling to find answers. Most of the time I jsut find more questions. I'm getting sick of questions. I don't want to have to keep working out things for myself. Call me lazy, pathetic, or whatnot...I'm just tired of having to sort things out. And no I can't just let things happen. There a couple important things in my life I need to sort. I'm getting afraid that I'll never have the answers to the questions I've discovered. I've always wondered why certain people get tested the most, and as I used to tell a friend, "the strongest people are tested the most." Bullshit. I don't feel strong. I feel fucking lost. I feel like someone's dropped me out a plane in Montana with a map of Wymoing and said, "Find Texas." What the fuck? So many things in my life that I thought I had the answers for, just don't seem to fit anymore. Like where do you go to meet new people? A bar? An art exhibit? How long is too long to hang on to somebody? Is it really that unhealthly to just throw in the towel on relationships? When does being professional draw close to the line of losing myself? I'm so fucking lost. I'm lost like an American in China. I don't speak whatever language every other fucking adult speaks when it comes to this shit. There are only so many times I lay on Grant Field and stare at the sky and think, "How can such petty things keep me down, when there's a whole universe out there?" I don't know. I don't fucking know. I haven't felt like crying in a couple of days, but I have a feeling another breakdown is coming. If I could just figure out one bloody question, I might be able to ease off myself.

Anyone that knows me, knows that I hate my grandfather. I resent how some of his past actions have affected my family. My issues with him aside, I've never met a person on this earth who doesn't deserve a second chance more than him. Then why, do I ask myself, am I feeling slightly sadden by his current state? He's dying. Lung cancer that's metastasized. He's supposed to be dead by July. His figure resembles nothing like what it used to be. He's withered away. The demon of a man he used to be is hard to find these days, but it still reels it's head every now and then. I find it extremely hard to accept that just because he's dying that I should forgive him. I don't want to. Forgiving him isn't going to change anything. It won't change the two christmases I had to go through as a kid. It won't change the way my dad's programed. It won't change my childhood. It's just not gonna change anything. He wants me to have all his dishes, pots and pans for when I get an apartment of my own. If he was anything like an actual grandfather then he'd know that I have all that stuff and that I've been living in an apartment for the last two years at school. There's a secret part of me that feels sad about all of this. Mostly however I turn a cold shoulder to the whole situation. Does this make me a bad person?