i am a Dandelion. i am forever wild.

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.

More than anything, I wish I was at Bat Cave right now.
I would cross the river (somehow, because each time it changes) and get knee deep in water.
I would climb the slanted rock and the trees and upscale the big rockface.
I would get up to my heart home, my most sacred place, and I would feel grounded. I would get my shit together. I would read and write in my journal and look down to the river and rocks and road and look across to the cliffs and look up to the sky. I would be up and away from the world for a spell.
After getting down, I would lay on sun-warmed stones.

I would fix everything I need to get out of my system.
I would let all these constrains fall away.
I would ground myself fully.

I would not feel trapped.

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.

Such a mess of a girl tonight.

I didn’t mean to, but I found your journal thing you left here. Do you remember what you said?

This life of mine is paralyzing me on so many levels.

I’ve been here before.
These moments are so familiar.

Driving down my favorite roads with the windows down, the night running its humidity across my skin, a lost love story on my mind. Music loud and taking the winding turns just a bit too fast, speeding to chase headlights out of my rear-view mirror. Eyes out for deer, music loud. Him forever on my mind. Him and the lack of him. Him and summer. My Dead Language CD playing and him on my mind.
I’m reliving this time last year. Familiar places, familiar feelings. Same thoughts of him, though without the emotion. Switch the music up a bit and voila, nothing much has changed. I’ve been here before.
Driving last night, my heart couldn’t breathe. I felt it constrict and whatever protects it wove around this useless organ. My heart expanded against it, trying to take on those known feelings, but they won out again. I hadn’t known I could still feel like that, that my heart could feel so tight.
I drive with memories of this time last year, and the fading youth of it all scares me. I should be young with him. We should have young summers. But he was a long time ago. I believe in everything impossible…. everything except him.

I’ve had a question for him over the last few days. I was online for work and I saw him sign on, linger. The question fell still, which was probably a sign.
     Let it be. Stop scratching at his door. Let it fall away like he has. Find a new life like he has.
     I can’t tell if he’s still stringing along or if I’m doing it to myself. It’s always just a game to him. Stop believing that and there’s hell to pay. Let it be. Nothing changes.

One of the best parts of summer is that it feels endless. It’s the Tucks way of being in Tuck Everlasting. I’m living days as if they are timeless, as if Mira will still be here next week, and I can do this and that and do it all again tomorrow. I can make money, go ice skating, go to my heart home, see my mountains, enjoy the heat-filled days and poolsides and fruit, so much fruit, and driving and lightening bugs and dusky nights, colorful days and light winds, storms. But a month is not forever. I’ll have to shake this comfort soon. I’m almost certain this time it will kill me.

Just be home. Feel the Carolina air and be home.

Hide me under a bed, because this is foolish.

I hate not knowing if you still read this. I hate knowing you do, and hate knowing you don’t, but mostly it’s for not knowing. I have a place to write to you when I can’t write to you, but I don’t know if you’ll see it. Although long deserted, I still go to your blog, just in case there’s something for me that you can’t say.

Yes, I’m going to be in CH sometime soon. Possibly even next week. And I want you to know and I don’t want you to know. Despite my best efforts, I still want you to show up, which if you think about it is kind of ridiculous, but I do. My friend here asked me the other day “On a scale of one to ten, how much do you wish he would show up at your door? Like, ignore other factors.” Immediately I said 10, but also a 4 or 5. Because there’s a difference between getting what I want and being happy. What if you did show up and I didn’t snap out of this…. void? Her small question scared me. I didn’t want to consider the possibility of you showing up because of all the possibilities that end in bad. What if you did come and it was all golden for me but not you? What if it was there for both of us? You would stay in the states, and I would come back here, and would that just start the last year and a half all over again? If I don’t snap back into me, there would be no point, right? You would have answered months ago if you wanted to deal with that. And so on and so forth. So, a 10 and a 4 or 5.
I want you to know because I will want to see you since you would be hundreds of miles away rather than thousands. But just because you know doesn’t mean I will, which leads into it being better if you don’t know. I won’t hold out on this silly idea.
Well, no, I still will hold out on the silly idea. But it won’t be as consuming. I hope.
For the third night in a row, I’ve had dreams of us. Happy us, happy me. Gentle love, giggles and warmth. The kind I should wake up to pain with, but this switch hits and after a few seconds of my eyes being open, I’m free of the dream. I wake up with no feelings, a complete void. Part of me cherishes that. I don’t think I could handle more physical pain. But another part clings to what should be there. I love you so much, so I should wake feeling something, right? Then that feels silly. Why dig to hold onto something like that?
I’m a master of these spirals.

I need to harbour things like this. My friends don’t want to hear about you anymore. There’s always just one more thing. You and I will always been unfinished business, isn’t that a saying? And it’s true. Just look at last week. You were the only one for my feelings about graduation, and that’s still not gone. I have a hundred tumblr pages circling you. When will it be enough?

Hiding under the table.

I swear I’m an adult.

I’m terrified I’ll never lose this feeling.

I’m not afraid of being alone, but I am afraid of being lonely. These days I can’t tell if I really don’t feel it or if I blocked it out, fighting it with everything. It’s completely blurred. That turns into not knowing whether or not the last year has been alone or lonely despite the certainty I lived with before of just being alone. Mostly seeing couples gives me no pang, but having even just a tiny moment of one at one random time makes me question it all.
I’m so tired of these mental games with myself. I can’t fight him, and being adult and the world and other crumbles and myself. I should be able to trust my own goddamn mind. One would hope.

Mira just told me The Hunger Games movie is going to be filmed in Asheville.

Hello spiral.