Jules, you can do this.
You can, I promise.
You just have to try.
Don’t let yourself be foolish.
Just try, please?
All you need is focus. That’s all. Just cap everything else.
Just try.
Things that are about to destroy my life again:
I got a library card.
And re-downloaded Maple Story.
And Hunger Games at midnight tomorrow.
Goodbye good academic career. It’s been fun.
More dreams.
I don’t know why they’re back. I don’t want them. The world can have them.
They don’t mean anything.
Even if I so desperately want them to.
I’m still clinging to an idea.
I miss you. Stupidly, foolishly, painfully, endlessly. I don’t need the reminders every morning.
I find myself pulling in again.
No appetite, No words.
No feelings aside from ones I wish to push out.
I can’t look past what I shouldn’t want.
A new year, and I’m already embracing Neil Gaiman’s message and making mistakes. Plenty of them.
But they’re the wrong kind. They aren’t toward anything new.
I’m lost. I’m sad.
It’s words trapped within me. Feelings I can’t shake. Memories I can’t leave behind.
I was doing well, and I messed it up.
I thought leaving home would make me feel better in a way. Running away, escapism. But it didn’t work like that. Instead, coming back to school made it settled in.
I just want something different. I thought this year was going to do it for me…. I thought I could do it. But already, not so much.
How can it still hurt? It’s been years at this point. It’s ridiculous that there’s still this shadow over me.
I’ve been spiraling for days.
I want to get incredibly drunk all alone and cry for a day.
This is not the life I want to be living.
But, the one I want is impossible. Oh well.
I swore to myself I was going to be better. This is not me being better.
Sadsoulsong.
Wishingforsomethingelsesong.
Re-livingoldpainsong.
Breakopenheartwoundssong.
I’manidiotforplayingitsong.
Istilllovehimsomuchsong.
Badplacesong.
Wantthingstobedifferentsong.
Heartbreaktonightsong.
Oh world.
I really, really need to move on.
He has. Why can’t I?
Tonight would have been absolutely perfect to share with him. Creepy Victorian stories told in a wine vault by one of the best storytellers in the world. I was completely enchanted…. but it was missing him.
I’m missing him.
Oh, world.
I really, really miss him. So incredibly much.
And I don’t know what to do about it.
Sonofabitch.
My favorite band is going to be playing near him. They have a new album too, out last week, that I’ve been listening to. Not only that, the day they’re concert is an important one for me here, another piece of my life I’ve wanted to share with him.
We went to one of their concerts together, and it was one of the best nights of my life. Complete and total euphoria.
If this had come up any other week, I’d probably be fine. But I’m fighting to stay above my feelings for him as it is, and now I’ve reached that embarrassing level of girl that daydreams about a big gesture and an impossible situation. And I really dislike my mind for going there.
I will probably end up deleting this.
(Whine whine whine, bitch bitch bitch. This is stupid and childish, Chicky.)
I’m sorry, followers. One of these days I’m going back to using the him blog for these and stop being a total fool. I don’t know why I put them where he could see if he wanted anyway. He won’t say anything or do anything or care or….
Yes I do. Because I’m lacking in intelligence.
Back to cleaning and homework.
More than anything right now, I wish I could have him here with me, in love with me, comfortable with me. Leaning in close to say goodnight. Holding me, being with me. I want his voice, his eyes. I want to hear him tell me…
I don’t miss being in a relationship.
I just miss being with him.
This hurts.
Partly because soon it will be two years and then I’m disappointed in myself.
But mostly because I’m alone in this. He’s got his life. He doesn’t feel this lacking.
And there is absolutely nothing I can do about mine, it lingers no matter what I do.
Journal excerpt from tonight…
Such a familiar scene. Holding myself, rocking back and forth, bending over. Sobbing, not being able to speak or even really breathe. Alone. Left here alone. And by my own doing.
The magic is still gone.
My begging and pleading falls on deaf ears.
It didn’t work before, why should it now.
It feels so empty. More than that, I feel hollow.
It isn’t supposed to be like this, I say to myself.
Who says, is my own response.
I do, I declare, but it is a desperate sound. Because I am desperate. A year ago I was in much the same state, falling to the floor in that way that feels even worse because it really is a cliche. My string lights had flickered out so of course I was in darkness. That’s the only way to do it.
Complete picture.
Now my face is post-cry sticky and that strange dry tightness.
“Please, please don’t let me be this girl again. I don’t want to be this girl.” Over and over and over again. Funny, how I seem to know all the girls I don’t want to be and not quite the one I do.
Not this girl again, I say, crying for another night knowing that tomorrow will be another.
I don’t know how else to fight this.
I used to believe in magic.
That’s all I want back.
I don’t want to be this girl anymore.
This state of being is my greatest fear. And it’s here.
Such a mess of a girl tonight.
If we were talking right now, I would beg you. I would let my heart feel, and I would beg you like the fool that I am.
How pathetic.
This is my journal entry from today last year…. something I may do every once and a while. I don’t know. Today is an Odd day, odd mood, so this is my reaction to odd. I was in Wittenheim, France.
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Hello summer storm. The air is wonderful, the sky dark, rumbles of thunder in the background. Drops on the pool surface.
This is a beautiful moment, dipped in melancholy.
I’ve been flooded with good memories. The meteor shower, taking me out to the streetlight while I freaked out, spinning and tumbling to the grass when a storm was coming at dusk.
I should have howled for him when I thought about it, in the car not too long ago, on the way back from roller blading with R.
I wish he was here. I wish he wanted to be here, with me.
Pretty light and a thunder boom, and hail. Hale?
He should be here. His maple story name I helped him with, ahha.
The water turned into a layer of vibration, rather than ripples.
If I was home alone, I’d probably run in it.
Marie is adorable, wrapped appropriately in a blanket.
[…]
Silly me, heh. How silly to think he will magically miss me, or feel the pull I had for him as we watched balls of ice fall from the sky.
How do I do this without losing myself?
A good deal of this morning was more, unimportant, crying. Overwhelmed by this heartache. Such old words. This has been a 6 month breakup, heh.
Same circles, world. I want to see him.
He really can’t care this much, can he?
Not like I’ll know.
Shhhh.
It’s been a long day. A fairly salvage H talk to start with, then wiifit and some poolside time. I slowly made my way into the water. Didn’t brave to go under, instead had the water up to my chest and my arms on the side, gathering warmth, and having so many painful tears. Hollow and pleading and accepting and not wanting too. Grief. Grief of everything I know, everything I don’t want to know…
Couldn’t breathe and I was above water, heh.
Lunch was peaceful. Dom bonding over the idea of les connaries d’etre jeune. Apparently his father was a trickster.
Rosie came home. They may be fighting. Not really sure. She seemed stressed a bit. No good.
I found a show, Cupid, that I wish had more than 8 episodes. I watched the first 2 and decided to wait for Marie since it’s by the same guy/team as Veronica Mars. It’s ridiculous and makes me feel good.
Made plans for roller blading with R, and hung around with Julien and Val and Val’s new girlfriend Eva, who didn’t speak much. They were silly in the pool. We laughed. It was fun. Included and I should have been, not more sort of thing.
Rachel and I went to Super U, Post, and stopped by Gabby’s work to say hi. Hello unpleasant and not a good idea. In reality it wasn’t that bad, but definitely not really needed. I was uncomfortable. I was very out of place. Not to mention, retirement home. Blerk feelings.
Sleepy, not well girl.
Bedbites (*
Note: World Cup.
Come watch Lilo and Stitch with me.
Come work out the knots in my back.
Come give me a lap to lay on.
Come make me run and fix my life.
Come set up a white sheet for a screen on the back deck and fall asleep under the stars with me while watching a movie we’ve already seen.
Come give my parents and friends a reason to trust you.
Come quell my fears and issues.
Come plan roadtrips that we may never take.
Come prove them wrong. Prove me wrong. Prove to me that I can feel, that it’s just a phase, a shield.
Come stargaze with me.
Come search for four-leaf clovers.
Come do things we forgot to do and remind me of the things we did.
Come so I can make you watch Misfits.
Come make my body stop shaking.
Come speak Spanish in my ear and I’ll return it with French.
Come make it so the last year and a half isn’t foolish. Come make it work. Come make it all valid, make it believable. Make it forgivable.
Come show me that this really is what I want and not just a habit that won’t die out.
