I Cannot Find the Words, But Here are Some

"I trust you," is one way to put it.
Sounds like a prayer
but maybe it is.

Give Me the Truth, Any Day of the Week

A few nights ago, I was talking to a friend about Mule and how he treats me these days, now that we're broken up. And she said that, because he was a writer, he always looked for the ideal story, the ideal interpretation. He admits himself that he idealizes people. From experience, I know that he is constantly searching for the perfection he imagines in his mind. And I agreed with her at the time, noting that because he searched for idealizations, he could never see the truth of the matter. He figures out how he wants to perceive something, and perceives it that way.

And then I realized tonight that I disagree with her. His idealization is not a product of his "writer's mind." It's what makes him a sub-par writer. Because writing isn't about looking for what makes the best story, or the most ideal concept. Good writers, great writing, searches for the truth. Because that's what will connect us. No one knows perfection. Good writing means trying to find the truth. No one ever bleeds out words of perfection, they bleed out the truth. It's the stories of imperfections, of honest and true shortcomings, that reveal to the readers just how not alone we are, which is the whole point of writing. It's connection, and you can't find connection in perfection because perfection doesn't exist. It isn't real. And because he willfully doesn't do that, he'll never be a great writer.

Not that it matters, really. What matters is that it may make a nice story, an ideal story that I'm a crazy ex-girlfriend, but that isn't the truth. He can have that. I'd rather have the truth. Which is why he ignores me in public and I'll still admit that he was an influential person in my life.

I don't want the ideal. I want the truth.

2013 in Reflection

January: Started with my and Best Friend's somewhat disasterous New Year's Eve-in. It was a nice idea, anyway ;) Was bombarded by PUPPIES. I came back to Albuquerque, and I couldn't believe how easy it felt. I missed K every day, but my friends were more excited to see me than I expected and I loved being back with them. A lot of us were together every weekend, doing something. I bought tickets to see K in March.

February: I spent waiting. And waiting. Texted K too much. Went to classes. Continued to be loved by the people here. V and I got closer. We saw each other every week and we loved it. Became "Queen of the Puppies."

March: Went to see K and it wasn't what I expected. Spent the rest of the month confused and angry. In retrospect, it was probably for the best-- I was able to realize that K couldn't be my whole life, no matter how hard I tried. V and I talked about it, a lot.

April: Spent my 21st with the best people. Best Friend was with me and that was most important. She bought my champagne flutes for my birthday. :) But then things got hard, for both of us. So we talked a lot. I went home a few weekends specifically so we could be together. We got through it. I had a panic attack over registration, called K hysterical at one in the morning. She talked me through it. Talked to Spider, found out he was moving. Had several intense conversations with him, culminating with him telling me he loved me. He promised to write me over the summer.

May: I remember this finals week being the most intense I've ever experienced. I ate fried chicken and champagne and then piled into bed with all of my favorite people. One of the best nights. Had a conversation with K that reinforced that I was still in love with her and her with me. Took an intersession course right after finals, made it through barely. I was exhausted but also elated. This was a really great month. Went up to the mountains just to talk and look at the stars with S. We went to a baseball game, I sang "Sweet Caroline" at the top of my lungs with T. I came home to spend my summer with Best Friend, Vert, and Pokemon.

June: Worked. Looked for apartments, found one. Went thrift shopping for furniture, more often than not bought books. Visited Best Friend at the shelter all the time. We hiked most weekends with Vert and Penny. I loved our evening hikes the best. We got nervous about nearby fires. Our siblings graduated from high school. I house-sat for Best Friend and missed her. Spider actually wrote me-- three times-- and I was delighted.

July: Was rough. K and I fought briefly but intensely multiple times and it culminated in us not talking for about two weeks. I was not upset about it. I was tired and needed to be done with her for a little bit. Best Friend was having serious problems at work. We spent a lot of our time this month having drinks after work and having depressing conversations. I was worried we were drifting, but these conversations reminded me we weren't. We discussed the best place to survive a zombie apocalypse on National Tequila Day. K and I had a fifteen minute conversation at the end of the month in which things were brought right back to normal for us-- reinforcing that we needed the break in that we needed to recognize what was wrong and fix it. We worked on fixing things and it worked.

August: Was wonderful. One of the best months. In a matter of a week, I expressed to K how much I wanted her to come see me, and a bit miraculously, we found a way for it to happen. I spent LOADS of time looking at plane tickets. We got excited to see each others' faces again. Best Friend and I got bored of Pokemon. We went to an amazing concert and loved every minute. I moved into the apartment, spent a week basically living at a coffee shop because of my lack of internet. Found out Roommate was pregnant. Started school again. Saw Best Friend in brief snippets. Went to a wedding with Best Friend, and despite my sickness, hot weather, and being ignored by the other guests, we had a fantastic time. We danced and had excellent conversations. One of my favorite memories of us. I was happy and excited this whole month and I spent a lot of my time singing loudly in my car.

September: K was here and things were shockingly perfect. We had the best week. Spent too much time looking over at each other saying, "This is what it would be like." It rained the whole time she was here, ruining a lot of my plans, but it didn't really matter since we were together. But then she left and I broke. Cried all the time. Didn't eat. The only way I can describe it is by saying that something in me broke when she left. And it's still not really fixed. Best Friend and I started talking about the possibility of moving. Spider and I started talking again, regularly, and it was different. We were heartbroken and talked about how sad we were. Even with all of my sadness, I had constant reminders that I was loved and I'm really grateful for that.

October: Was weird. Best Friend and I were struggling, in different ways. We talked a lot. We met in-between and realized how much we REALLY missed each other. T and S and I went on a roadtrip and it soothed me in ways that I needed. But then we came home and things went downhill. I was sad, a lot of the time and did things to avoid that sadness. Would talk to K and be reminded of how sad I really was. My dad and I could not get along, and it really pissed me off so I didn't even try to make an effort anymore because nothing I did seemed to make a difference. Celebrated Halloween excessively. Drank excessively. Started spending all of my time at S's house because I couldn't really handle being anywhere else.

November: Things went really downhill with Roommate, in regards to finding her replacement. I was stressed ALWAYS about it. K and I found our balance in regards to talking. I never stressed about her anymore, which was a really nice feeling. Always felt loved by her, even though we didn't communicate constantly. Wrote a ton for school, more than I've ever written in the past. Drank too much, instituted two weeks with zero drinking because I knew I wasn't handling drinking in a healthy manner. Went home for sister's birthday, fought with Dad, but spending time with the siblings, Best Friend, and Vert made it worth it. Had a nicer Thanksgiving than expected. Tentatively found a new living situation, but got into a really bad place with Roommate and things ended badly. Basically wrote all the time. Still always at S's, but spending more time with his roommate and girlfriend (my new roommate).

December: Things both got more intense and calmed down. Wrote and wrote and wrote for school. Best Friend got a job in a different state, we prepared for her leaving. Finals Week was anticipated to be intense, but in retrospect I handled it really well. Made preparations to move into new apartment with C. Spent a lot of time drinking at S's, with him, J, and C. Loved how close C and I were getting. Talked over moving a lot with Best Friend. Recognized that I am still not okay, about a lot of things, but mostly about being here and being away from K. Also recognized that there's not much I can do right now to change those things, so tried to remain "hopeful but not expectant." Wanted to leave the state, more fiercely than I had allowed myself to feel in awhile. School ended and things came to an abrupt halt. Packed. Went back and forth between my city and parents' home, all the time. Christmas at home, New Year's Eve in the new apartment. Felt ready for 2104.

Grateful for this crazy year, filled with intensity. 2013 was truly my most intense year yet, I think, both in intense highs and intense lows. A lot of the year seemed to be about waiting, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I feel like I spent my year waiting for change, and that may not be the best thing, but I also don't know how I should have done things differently. So I'm going to own it. 2013 was filled with intensity and waiting. I'm ready for you 2014. Let's see if you bring all the changes I've been waiting for.

Spain

Taking time to remember that this apartment, while only my home for about six months was home.

This is where I got to set up all of my stuff. The home for which I spent all summer looking for furniture. Filled it with my books. Took pieces of furniture from my old homes and put them here.

This is where she visited me. My porch is where we watched one of the most intense rainstorms I've ever seen and I made her dance with me in the rain. My kitchen where we danced at least twice, where we made our special drink, where she, within hours of being here, looked at me and said, "I could do this."

This apartment was where Best Friend and I crashed after adventures. Where Vert came to visit and I made sure that he could jump on my super high bed (that I made with my father specifically for this apartment). This apartment has held everyone I love, at least once. It's a shame it didn't hold them all at the same time, but they were all here.

This apartment is where I climbed up one story of stairs late at night and early in the morning, hungover, sick, exhausted, in yesterday's clothes, with cigarette smoke in my hair, smeared make-up, so many thoughts. This is where I never felt ashamed for the food or drinks I brought home-- and there was always at least one bottle of champagne in my fridge.

This dining room is where I would sit with Roommate in the morning, after she got home from work and before I left for school, and we caught each other up on our lives. This living room where I fell asleep next to my loves watching movies. This bedroom where I lay in bed, filled with thoughts of joy and pain. The window next to my bed that I would look at in the middle of the night, when I couldn't sleep because my heart hurt too much from missing her. This bed where I jumped on with people, dogs, books, and more often than anything, Chinese food.

I was only here for six months, and I'm so excited for where I'm living next. But this was a good apartment and it was home.

When she leaves, there will be a lot less holding me here. 

It keeps feeling like I have less and less reasons to stay here. And I'm hoping like crazy that those are signs that I'm not staying here much longer.

God, I want to leave. Please. 

Never Going Back

So last night at dinner, Sam was telling a story that I hadn't heard before, and I was kind of shocked that I didn't know this story. And he looked at me with a kind-of pained expression and goes, "That happened the summer you weren't talking to any of us."

To clarify, he only phrased it that way because that's always the way I phrase it. He wasn't trying to be mean or vindictive. But that's the second story of something BIG that happened two years ago that I only found out about recently. Because when those stories were actually happening, I only talked to my boyfriend.

So much of that relationship was unhealthy, but this part continues to hurt the most. That because of our relationship, I never spoke to the majority of my friends.

It wasn't okay and I don't ever want to go back to that sort of relationship.

I have a weird relationship with exhaustion. I was sitting here, preparing to write a high and mighty post about how I never use exhaustion as an excuse not to do something, and then I realized that was wrong.

I should have been applying for jobs for at least a month before now, but I used the excuse that I was exhausted. I could have been packing last night and I should pack tomorrow and Thursday, but I know I will say that I'm exhausted and I need a rest.

I prioritize everything, and I just now realized that very specific things are a priority above my level of tiredness. And I'm okay with that, I'm okay with my priorities, but I need to at least own up to that instead of generalizing and giving myself more credit than I deserve.

What I mean to say is, I've never let being exhausted or burnt out prevent me from completing my responsibilities. Even that isn't quite true, but it's what I'm going with right now.

I wish I could explain this exhaustion though. Because it's not physical even a little bit, although it does lead to more physical tiredness. This is a completely mental exhaustion and I don't know how to fix it.

What I do know is that I'm exhausted and I still wrote over forty pages in the last two weeks. Pretty damn proud of myself.

Love Them.

To the boy who promised to roadtrip with me to Utah anytime I wanted, the boy who exchanged best friend stories with me, and to the girl who stayed by my side the whole damn night-- thank you.

It means more than you know.

Maybe I'd like to go back to being five years old again.

But then I wouldn't know either of you. The two most important women in my life. My loves. 

Don't know where we're all going but I know you're with me. 

Writing this Down because the Last 36 Hours have been Crazy

Yesterday: Broke my lease. Went to work. Went to one class, then left for mini-road trip.

Yesterday, 10:00 p.m.: Leave basketball game to go home (three hour drive). Sleep not even a little bit. Sam's shoulder is not in advantageous spot for sleeping.

Today, 1:00 a.m.: Get back to boys' place, collectively decide to stay there. I decide I'll get up with Sam to go to work so he can take me to my car.

3:00 a.m.: Wake up with Sam, get driven to car. Snowing like mad. Drive to MY home, stay awake through grace of God.

4:00 a.m.: Get home and am immediately wide awake. Browse internet for nearly an hour. Decide that sleep is probably a good thing, as have a million things to do today.

8:00 a.m.: Alarm number one goes off. Hit snooze, decide to sleep for another hour.

9:00 a.m.: Drag myself out of bed. Comb hair, decide that's enough for personal care today. Finish filling out new apartment application, go to apartment office to get forms filled out.

10:00 a.m.: Meet up with new roommate. Tour potential apartments, turn in applications, decide on apartment, and put deposit on the one we like the best. Set an actual move-in date, contingent on our credit check coming back approved. All within the span of an hour.

11:00 a.m.: Get to work. Decide to never have such a crazy 36 hours ever again. Realize that must go to class and do work on multiple essays, all on four hours of sleep. Once again resolve to make better life choices.

The snow is beautiful today and is adding a gorgeous background to my chaotic life.

Don't Read Too Much Into This

I don't know what my last thought will be
Or what I will see before these eyes close

But I hope that it's the sound of the ocean falling onto the shore
My brother running to me when I haven't seen him in awhile
Or the sound of Jacinta's laugh when she can't hold it back
the way my home looks when it's snowing late at night

My mother's hands kneading tortilla dough
Surprise letters in the mail
Sam kissing my forehead
Or the way the wind feels on my skin driving home late at night with the windows down and my favorite song

And you.

I hope I see that grin you have just for me when you're happy to see me
and the smile you give me when I catch you looking
the sound of your voice when you're whispering secrets

Or even just the brush of your fingertips against mine.

A Letter I Can Send: Two Years

Dear Best Friend,

Oh my god you've been home for two years. What. Where has the time gone.

So, in order to keep myself on track, here's what I'm going to talk about in this letter: what you've done in the past two years, what we've done in the past two years, and where we're headed from here.

Oh sweet best friend of mine, I can't even tell you how proud of you I am. Taking such active control of your own life, paying bills like an adult-type person, making your mark on the world. Helping people, going on adventures, and, most importantly, doing what makes you happy.

I know it was hard. I know it still is. But you are a fucking rock star, and I look up to you every single day. Thank you for being such an amazing role model. You're still standing. And I love it. I always knew you would.

Even more than just merely surviving, you are thriving. I know things aren't always easy, but I *know* (because I know you) that it's better. I can't even tell you how happy it made me looking at those pictures of you from September.

"She looks so different from how she used to," I said. "She looks amazing."

That warms my heart in ways I can't even tell you. But know that always, ALWAYS, you are the magic. And I'll always believe it enough for the both of us.

And now onto our adventures...

I'm always going to cherish these past two years, Best Friend. Because we've done so much!! Gone on trips, gone hiking, drank WAY too much coffee, snuggled dogs, watched new TV shows, danced in the snow and the rain, gone out for drinks, gotten dressed up, called each other a million times, driven hours to see each other... and the list goes on.

Nothing is ever perfect in this world, but you and I come pretty damn close. You are the sunshine in my life. The umbrella. And I'm always going to be grateful that, no matter what, we had these two years living within 100 miles of each other. Two years where we saw each other regularly. You and me were (and continue to be) magic.

So that leads me to the last part of this letter: where we're headed. Because I'm not going to lie, Best Friend, thinking of how much things are changing for us both scares me a little bit.

I love that we have future plans that include each other, but it'll always scare me a little bit that those plans may not pan out. That our lives may be headed in different physical directions.

That gives me even more of a reason to be grateful for these two years that we had, but it also makes me remember our friendship as a whole. Because before THESE two years, there were two years that we were 13,000 miles apart. And we KICKED ASS.

So yeah, I'm scared. The thought of being away from you never makes me happy. But we're never truly apart. We know how to stay connected better than anyone; how could we not?

And so, with that in mind, let me tell you that I am so excited for these next two years, whatever and wherever they bring us. And you. I admire you every damn day and I can't wait to see what you do next. Because no matter where you are, I'm going to be right beside you. Texting you and calling you and listening to your CDs and planning trips and doing countdowns and laughing with you and triumphing together.

Always together no matter where we are. I promise that I'll remember that.

So, my gorgeous and wonderful constant, here's to the past two years and everything they were. And here's to the next two years and the next fifty. The unknown is fucking terrifying but I believe in you enough to move towards it.

So long as you're always the only one who will ever love me and I'm always the one who loves you most.

Love, love, love,
your Best Friend

I put on a better act with you than I do with everyone else

Try not to let you see how much of a mess I am right now

But I still love the moments when my cracks show through and I slip and let you see just a bit of my current struggle

and your instantaneous reaction is of trying to reach me any way you can. Of minutes after you read my message to text and say that you're calling as soon as you can. To be dealing with other crises but to ask me if I'm okay no really am I okay.

I love you for that.

And I love you for calling me spontaneously, even though we talked earlier today, just to tell me how good it was to talk to me. How much you love me and miss me.

God damn, I hate this distance thing, but fuck it if I don't love you more every day we're apart.

Selfish

I feel like I consume all this fucking love and it isn't enough. It never seems to be enough.

Someone kissed me goodbye this morning. My best friend texted me all damn day. Another friend texted me and said, "just know someone somewhere is thinking of and loves you." 

And that was just today. I receive all these constant reminders that I'm loved and cherished, and I still feel fucking empty.

I hate that about myself. Really. I hate that I have all this love given to me and it never feels like enough. 

I was thinking today about
That exercise we used to do in my theater class

Where we'd have to look into someone's eyes
And not laugh, not freak out
Just look
Take deep breaths and hold eye contact

And then I was thinking about how
I'd love to do that with you
how easy it would be
how I wouldn't laugh even a little bit (at least not for awhile, not until we laughed together)
Because the thought of getting to do nothing but look into your eyes
Stare into each others' souls that way
Is so damn tantalizing.

I want to see all of you
And if I was given the opportunity
To do nothing but peer into you and have you peer into me
I'd take it and hold onto it as long as I could.

I'd like that.

More Stream of Consciousness

I miss her i miss her so much it hurts so much that i crave the weekends and when they get here all i do is lie in bed and watch tv just to get a damn break but then i think about everything and i just want to go back to sleep like all the people i could be with right now all the people i should call but they'd just all be distractions from her because i miss her and i miss her peeking her head into my room and then slipping into my bed wrapping her arms around my waist and just being with me and when i remember those things it's the worst because i'm so mad that one person who isn't here is enough to break my heart and i don't feel any better and it's so fucking pathetic that one person is gone and i'm devastated 

this isn't working but i don't have the answer i don't have any for certains i don't know if i'll ever fucking see her again or ever fucking live near her and i can't feel like this every damn saturday so what will i do

i just want to go to best friend's house and throw a pillow over my head and sleep for days because even going home doesn't sound appealing why do you think i spend so many nights at his house because i don't belong there but i don't belong anywhere right now and when his cat sleeps pressed up against me sleeps curled up in the body parts that i pull close into myself  it's nice to pretend that there is somewhere that i do belong

she called me shattered the other day and that sentiment is way more true than she realizes she said it because she knows i think i'm broken but she said that broken implies not self-sufficient not capable and that i am both of those things or so she says 

but yeah

shattered 

Broke.

Writing this down so I don't forget.

She called me last night when we were on our way home from the bars. She was still in a bar. And she was grouchy and not having a good time and she called me.

"I miss you so much," she said. "Being here with people that I don't care about only throws into focus the people that I should be with."

And I listened. While she told me all the things she missed about me. My heart broke a little more.

"I don't belong here anymore," I told her.

"You know you belong with me, right?" she responded.

We said things we shouldn't have.

Like how her leaving broke something. Like how she misses me every day.

"I love you so much; I miss you."

And then she had to go.

I packed up my things and drove to a house that was not my own to fall asleep next to a person that was not her. And I cried the whole way there.

Because what else am I supposed to do?

We got through some of our toughest, lowest points together when we were 13,000 miles and a 16-hour time difference apart. 

I'm never going to doubt us, okay?

I'll miss you like crazy, but distance will never change what makes us US. 

Missing You

Missing you is like feeling nothing's complete without you here
Is like flirting just to try to feel something
And then feeling Nothing.

Missing you is like waking up this morning and wanting to go back to sleep
Is like trying my hardest not to give up, not to lose hope.

Missing you is like trying day after day to forget
to be okay to not remember to focus on other things
because when it comes rushing back the pain is almost too much to bear

Missing you is doing stupid reckless things just so I can pretend
And realizing it's all just an illusion.

I miss you I miss you
This isn't how it should be.

Not Even a Little Bit Mine anymore either, and I Couldn't be Happier

I love that we've moved beyond all that bullshit. As Best Friend put it, we're not having "4 a.m. let's run away to Paris" conversations anymore.

I love that we know we love each other, but in a healthier, more honest way. I can't call it platonic because I think we'll always be attracted to each other, but neither of us wants to go back to that. Both of us really want this: this being able to talk to each other and tell each other our problems and just be grateful that we have each other in our lives.

I love that you called me last weekend to make sure that I was doing okay. And that I called last night and you texted me to tell me you'd call me back in a few minutes, and then you actually did. Or how you give me genuinely good advice on stuff that's going on with me, and how, even though your heart is a little bit broken, you're able to look at my love and be happy for me. Genuinely.

You told me last night that you'd be lost without me, that I'm important to you, that our conversations mean a lot to you. And normally when those sorts of things are said, especially from you, there's strings attached. But I know you well enough to know when you're trying to corrupt me or trying to get something from me, and you didn't say those things for either of those reasons.

You said them because you meant it. I think this is the first time in our too long history that you actually view me as a friend. And I can't tell you how happy that makes me.

Beyond all of that, I'm so proud of you. So proud that you were able to let yourself be vulnerable with someone, albeit ending with your broken heart. Proud that you left this state where we both knew there was nothing left for you. Proud that you're able to be my friend and let me be yours.

And I'm so proud that I can't claim credit for any of that. I'm a fixer. I fall in love with people and I want to fix them. You weren't an exception to that. But I didn't fix you. I didn't do any of this.

You did.

I'm so proud of you and I'm so happy that *this* is the way things are.

Not so much a Spider, Anymore

I have no idea who I talked to on the phone for two hours last night. Like, he bears no resemblance to the boy I knew. 

"Hey, I just wanted to say that I'm really glad that we're friends. And that I treated you really badly for a really long time, and that wasn't okay. I'm sorry." 

But You have a Girlfriend

"Not really though," I said and even I could hear the sadness in my voice.

Always lucky for the people in my life. 

Lucky that they stay out with me later than they should, just to hear me whine.
Lucky that they don't get upset when I tear up in a bar.
That when I say, "she was only here for a week, I should be over it by now," they tell me, "fuck that, it was important and it mattered and you know it."
That when I tell them how guilty I feel for still being sad two weeks after she left they tell me, "you're allowed to be sad and you're allowed to feel that for however long you want to."
That they give me good advice like, "it'll work out, you just need to stop thinking about the timetable."
That they understand that I love them and that my desire to leave has nothing to do with them.

That they love me unconditionally and without fail are there when I need them.

That I'd take them, all of them, with me in a heartbeat if I could.

That leaving them is what scares me the most. 

Also I've decided that in January, when I come back for the spring semester, I'm going to start therapy.

Not only do I want to deal with my anxiety which is becoming a bigger and badder part of my life, but if I'm serious about wanting to move (and I am) then I need to handle it better than I did last time.

Because moving means being away from my core support system. And I'll have Oregon Girl, but it's not fair to depend on her solely. And that would be really unhealthy and destructive.

So, I'll need to depend on myself. And a therapist would, I hope, help me develop the tools I need to make this potential life change a good experience.

I'm hopeful. Scared, definitely. But I am very serious about considering moving. And therefore I need to make sure that it's something that I, myself, can handle properly.

Another Sappy Best Friend Post

"It's very important, at this point, for everyone to know where they stand. It's important to me that she [Oregon Girl] knows that Best Friend is the most important person in my life. That there are things Best Friend knows that she doesn't. Because that's how it should be at this point."

Something that I said to a friend of mine earlier this week.

I know Best Friend knows how important she is to me, but even then I don't feel like I tell her enough how much her presence in my life means to me. How, even when everything hurts, I am comforted by her. No one knows me better. No one loves me quite the way she does.

When she travels an hour and a half (one way) on an evening when she has work the next day to see me. When she texts me more than usual, not just checking up on me but distracting me with benign (IMPORTANT) conversations. Makes me CDs. We make plans to see each other soon.

All of that is helping me more than I could tell her. And knowing that she needs me too: that it's good for her well-being as well as mine to do these things.

I accused her a year ago for sometimes phoning it in, for sometimes not trying as hard as I do in regards to supporting each other. And I regret saying that. It was a mistake. I was wrong. I'm so so sorry.

No one supports me better than you do.

And I can't wait to see you, and I can't wait to see where life takes us, and I can't wait to be at each others' sides every step of the way.

Still sad. But it's a manageable sadness, as wrong as that is to say. This sadness gets tucked into a special corner of my heart. I know it's not going away anytime soon. I know it's there. But I don't have to stare it in the face everyday. 

Being away from you is never "easy." In your words, I miss you everyday, all the time. And that's what this constant sadness is. Your absence. 

And while I *refuse* to let your absence rule my life (forgive me, my love) and I *refuse* to not be happy and enjoy MY life, that little sadness will always be a twinge. Tucked away. But still there. 

Know that I'd rather feel that sadness than nothing. It's a worthwhile sadness and I will own it proudly. 

Won't let it define me, but I will own it. 

In my dreams you and I, living in the same place, go to see The Fault in Our Stars as our first official date.

Looking back, it looks as though I don't write about her nearly as often as I wrote about my past loves. But that isn't true.

I write to her. Because more than anyone else that I've been with, she loves my writings. They make her smile, they make her proud, and she loves seeing that part of me.

More than anyone else I've been with, I want to show her everything. And I do. 

And something about her and I feels a little more... real. Sacred. And so I can never quite find the words, unless I'm writing for her sole audience.

It's different. We'll see what comes of it. 

I do write about her though. Head over heels for a girl who loves my words. 

I want so badly to ask if you're okay, but I know the answer.

You're not. Because I'm not.

You texted me at midnight last night.

"I miss you." 

You're not okay. 

But I know you need to pretend to be strong and you don't like showing me the cracks, for fear that it'll hurt me or open up the wounds even further, for us both. But I'm already hurt, my love... and I don't need to ask if you're okay to know how much this hurts. 

Sometimes

Sometimes even going through the day-to-day motions exhaust me
and Sometimes coming home and remembering that this is My house and not Ours
is enough to drop my energy straight through the floor.

Sometimes I get a text from you in the middle of the night
and when I read it, I cry because I can feel your anguish

and Sometimes I have to take a deep breath and remember to take this one day at a time
remember that if this is meant to be it will work out
even though that's months away and there are too many puzzle pieces to obsess over
one day at a time

one day at a time Without You.

I can do it.
I will do it.

but Sometimes that thought is too much for me to bear

Without You.

So nice to see the way you melt into me once you're comfortable. Once you let your guard down. How around the best friend and the roommate you show without question that we are still, unquestionably, the package deal.

I love you, I love you.

No words for the future of this. All I have is the tiniest flicker of hope. And reaching inside of us both to find a big vat of faith. 

So many thoughts buzzing in my head and so many things that I should write.

But the sleeping pill is kicking in. 

My God has always done so well in showing me that I'm not alone. And I'm struggling to trust that He will do the same for my brother, who deserves that reassurance so much more than I do. 

My God is a loving God, and I know He will walk beside my brother. 

I am Not Lonely

So, in typical collegiate fashion, my friends and I celebrated my return to the big city by drinking too much last night. And at one point in the evening, in between eating pizza and reading aloud some of our favorite passages from my books, the conversation came up as to how different single and in-relationship lives are.

"Being single just means that we're lonely," one of my friends said. "We're lonely, a lot of the time."

My in-relationship friend confessed that she was lonely a lot, even though she had a boyfriend. And while they went back and forth, I pondered.

"The truth is, I'm not lonely," I remarked, slurring my words only a little bit. "I like my life. I like the people in my life, I like what I do... and yeah, there are moments of loneliness, but not often. I'm really happy where I'm at."

My single friend stared at me like he couldn't believe what I was saying.

And now, the day after, I think back to that conversation and its honesty.

I am not lonely.

I am single. But not alone, and definitely not lonely. I have friends whom I adore and who keep me laughing and entertained. I have classes and interests that keep me busy and fulfilled. And 90% of the time I have a sense of inner peace that I'm exactly where I should be right now.

My life isn't perfect by any means and obviously I'd be delighted if I found someone with whom I could have a meaningful relationship with. But not having that doesn't detract from my life or my happiness. The person that I do love is far away, and while that saddens me, her absence does not define my state of being.

I am me. I am filled with vibrancy and laughter, long car rides and glasses of wine. Puppy squiggles, inside jokes, and family dinners. Pretty dresses and enchanting books, music being played too loudly and all my friends piling into my bed to confess secrets.

I am not lonely.

Sometimes Nostalgic

Flipping through old photos on Facebook late at night and remembering some old adventures. But since I've effectively, for better or worse, through actions of my own choosing, through circumstances out of my control, but currently not really speaking to either of you I will throw these thoughts out into the divide.

I miss our adventures, Mule and Rain Fairy. So so much. I miss our laughter and our pictures and our sheer joy at being alive. Thank you for all the good times. 

I think of them fondly. 

So I'm still stressing about my finances. I've done the math and I *should* be okay but it's all on very tight margins and if something big comes up, the whole picture changes. Which is unsettling and still makes me really nervous. Awesome.

Anyway I was thinking that I'm going to have to talk to my mother about all of this when she gets home, and I think I will, but I also started today a Novena to Saint Anne, Mary's mother. And I was struck with the thought that I should ask my Holy Mother to help me and comfort me on these worries I have. So for the next few weeks I'm going to pray especially to Mary, in the hopes that she, like my earthly mother will do, will calm me and help me as she knows best. 

A Letter

Note: I wrote this just now to a friend, but I'm really pleased with how self reflective it is and I felt as though it also belonged here. It should also be noted that through everything I describe below, my faith and my Lord have sustained me. And I give so much gratitude to Him for guiding and supporting me. 

                I left work for half an hour today so that I could talk to Jacinta. It had been a really stressful day for her, and she called asking if we could talk. And so we went and had a quick coffee date, to talk and ensure that she was okay.

               

I tell you this not because I know you’re deeply invested in the inner-workings of my best friend’s and my relationship, but because the experience got me thinking about how happy I am that in the past year my priorities have shifted in such a way as to allow me to support my friends more. Not Jacinta specifically, but them in general. Libby will call me to tell me if she’s having a rough time. I dropped by Jordan’s house the other night because of a fight she and her dad had, and when Tiffany has a bad day, I go over to try to help. And I wasn’t in a position last year, nor did I want to be, where my friends could be a priority.

               

Being in a relationship that I openly believed to be my final one made it so that Craig was always my top priority. Always. Furthermore, it had me in a place and mindset where I was deeply dependant on him. So I never really devoted time to anything besides school and him. Nothing else was really a priority, including my friends or even really myself. All that really mattered to me was him and our relationship. And that absolutely wasn’t healthy, to make someone else my biggest priority, throwing everything, including myself, below that.

Leaving for Maryland was something that I did for me and no one else, and I’m so glad that I went. Had I not gone, Craig and I would probably still be together. But when we were breaking up, I didn’t even consider staying. I thought I was going to marry him, but I wouldn’t give up that trip. Not only did that say something about our relationship, but I’m really proud that I was able to put myself first for the first time in a long time.

                

Being there not only gave me the emotional and physical distance I needed from that ended relationship, but it also forced me to rely much more heavily on myself. And that was a really great experience to have. I’m lucky that I have friends to support and help me, but Maryland was something that I did almost entirely on my own. And that changed things. It was amazing to realize that I could do it. I had so much more confidence in myself after that trip.

                

And so, coming back was different. I was able to prioritize, for me, in a really healthy and pleasing way. I felt like this last semester I had a pretty decent balance of school, friends, and myself. I was able to do a lot more with my friends than I have in the past, but I was still focused in school, and I was able to give myself the appropriate amount of downtime.

                

Gaining that self-confidence and perspective and feeling like my life is in a really good place right now has just felt incredibly freeing and just plain good. Karen and I got into a big fight last week, and afterwards I just walked away. Not away from her per se, but from the situation. I’m not going to put effort into someone or something that won’t make the effort in return. And taking a step back from the situation, and from her, was definitely the right call for me and I’m glad that I made it. But I’m especially proud knowing that I could even make that call in the first place. Because I wouldn’t (and couldn’t) make that call at this time last year.

                

None of this is to say that my life is perfect, or that I don’t still have flaws or problems that I need to fix. But I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m really proud of all that I’ve accomplished and done in the last year, and I feel as though my life is exactly where it should be. I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be, and that I’ve grown in ways that I’m proud of. And I’m very grateful, and proud, of that.

               

These are the thoughts that are on my mind tonight.  

Panicking Maybe

I'm feeling a little bit nervous because we're officially hitting the end of the summer and I feel like I've kind of lost control of my finances and I'm not sure how that happened. I keep having to make huge withdrawals for necessary things, but I'm not sure if my work this summer was enough to sustain those purchases, the car payment I have to make, and my personal discretionary fund for the next semester. And that thought is really upsetting to me. Not only am I concerned about *further* depleting my savings account, but it's really not okay that I didn't see this coming. That I wasn't as in control of my money and spending as I should have been. Or even as aware as I should have been. Plus, I thought things were okay. I miscalculated. That's also really frustrating that I didn't do the math properly.

I don't know. I need to pray about this, and I know He will help. I have plenty of money. Just not as much as I thought/hoped. And it's not okay for me to just have vague ideas of my finances anymore. When I go back to school, this is going to change. Paying actual bills and living a real-world life demands total awareness of finances. And I'm going to have that. It's just upsetting that I don't already. 

I Don't even Know how to Title This

He's written me three times. Three. It took him two weeks to fulfill that promise.

Not perfect letters, not anything particularly special, but letters nonetheless.

Like he said he would.

Like YOU said you would.

It's been a year. And it's hard to explain how you not sending me a letter is what still cuts me up about our relationship, but it's taken on so much more meaning than just a silly letter.

By not fulfilling your promise, a promise that you've renewed time and time again ("I'll write it, I promise." "It's still in the works, it's coming.") you showed me, and continue to show me, how very little my own desires were to you. It didn't really matter what I wanted if it was in contradiction to what you wanted.

And I'll never get that damn letter. Just like you'd never think about doing what I wanted if it meant exerting even the slightest effort or going even a little bit against what you wanted.

I was with you for two years and you couldn't write me a fucking letter.

He did it in two weeks. That boy that you look down upon so much, that you viciously judge and revile-- he made the same promise as you did and he came through before you. 

Never the Same Love Twice

So yeah, I totally did look at my brother’s girlfriend’s blog after she linked it on Facebook. Can you blame me?

And… it’s adorable. For one thing, the girl is witty and contemplative. But on a more meaningful note, whenever she references or talks about my brother, you can *hear* the love she has for him. It radiates from every word she says about him.

I am just in awe. So grateful and pleased that my brother has found someone so early in his life that wholeheartedly loves him just the way he is.

Maybe I’m a little jealous.

But then it got me thinking.

My brother is blessed, but I have been too.

At my brother’s age, I found someone who changed my life irrevocably. Someone, albeit someone was not the right person for me, who showed me what it meant to look into another person’s soul and love every little bit of him. Despite the problems with him and with us, that love was powerful enough to overwhelm it all.

Then I went to college and loved a good man. Again, not the right one for me. But I spent two years with someone who made me laugh, let me cry on his shoulder, and tried to help me in any way he could. And he showed me what a good relationship has the potential to be: a partnership of two individuals who love each other. Two people who respect and admire each other, and are willing to lay aside their differences for the pleasure of being together.

And then in this last year alone… how my love has dazzled me. Sometimes you meet someone and everything just clicks. And you don’t have to hide any part of yourself because you know this person will listen, never judging. And maybe that person will love you all the more for it, for revealing the deepest, darkest parts of you.

I was lucky enough to fall in love with my best friend, and miracle of miracles, she loved me back. For whatever god-knows-what reason, she manages to see me for who I truly am… and loves me.

Loves me enough to pick up the phone when I call her in the middle of the night, to muddle her way through shitty internet connections so we can have a conversation, to send me poetry or pictures that remind her of me, to attempt to continue the bond between us even though we’re miles apart.

And maybe that’s amazing.

To answer your question, no, I don’t know where this is headed. For that matter, I don’t know where *I’m* headed. That’s not the point.

So what if I have no idea what my future holds. Who the fuck cares if I’m single. I have been, and continue to be blessed by the love in my life.

My love life bears no similarities to my brother’s. And once I saw past the petty jealousy of that fact, once I saw what is really there, it’s so easy to be grateful for this life of mine and the love it contained, contains, and will contain.

“There are all kinds of love in this world but never the same love twice.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald

Responsibility

I am the oldest child and that means I have responsibilities I never signed up for. It means that I work hard in school and plan my schedule to make sure that my parents can take care of my brothers and sister. It means I work all summer long to support myself, so that money that could have gone to me can go to a sibling who needs it. Not to me. I can handle things on my own.

It means that cleaning the house on Sunday was more important than helping me with rental applications. It means that I will pay every single cent out of my own pocket—and that the one purchase you did help me make is held over my head time and time again.

It means that purchase—that lovely car that I absolutely could not afford on my own-- is treated as family property and is only viewed as “my car” when it is convenient. You took my car on Saturday without even telling me. Why? Why couldn’t you have just called and asked me?

Because what’s mine is yours even if I don’t want to give it. Because I have responsibilities. And those responsibilities are to the family and not to me.

Granted, these are things that I should be doing. It’s great that I’ll pay for school on my own, that I earn my own money, that I’m essentially self-supporting. Fine. Great. Thank you. But now let’s talk about the things that aren’t so great, the things that aren’t so fair or right.

I worked eight and a half hours today. Just as much as either of you. And then I drove home and you left. So I made dinner.  And I got the kids ready for bed, mediated their fights. I guess I’m sorry I didn’t have them in bed by eight-thirty, but since when have they EVER had a consistent bedtime? I had no idea when you were coming home. I figured it’d be worth it to see if you’d make it home in time to say goodnight to them.

Being the oldest means always thinking of how your actions affect the people around you. It means I’m the one who remembers birthdays and anniversaries and buys the gifts while signing the card from all of us. It means that I couldn’t go have a drink with my best friend tonight if I wanted to—I had to make sure it didn’t interfere with familial obligations. It means that I’m not allowed to be cranky for one goddamned second and snap at any sibling for fear of the impact it will have on them and their development. It means that I am allowed to be the second mother—until you disagree with me or notice the parental role I have.

And it’s fine. It’s all fine. They’re my brothers and sisters. And you’re my parents. I love you. And I do want to do everything I can to help you. All of you.

All I ask for in return is that you acknowledge that I play a huge, important role in this family. You spend next to no money on me because I support myself. I watch your children when you want me to. I pick babies up from daycare, go home early on snowdays, cook dinner when you’re not here, change(d) diapers, rocked babies until they fell asleep, read bedtime stories, make sure plans are set for holidays, arrange presents, live outside my fucking house, carpool, give up museums and restaurants, and so many more countless, little, daily things.

And tonight, because you didn’t tell me when your children should be in bed, I was ignored. Which is typical.

The thing about responsibility is, you’re not supposed to do them to earn thanks or acknowledgment. A responsibility is something you have to and should do. It can be defined as something “within one’s power to accomplish.” Responsibilities are only really noticed when they’re not accomplished. When someone doesn’t live up to them. They didn’t accomplish what was within their power.

And that generally works, because the other part of responsibility is that, 90% of the time, they’re something that individuals sign up for out of their own free will. You know how much you can take on, or you just simply know what you want to do. And so you shouldn’t expect thanks for that. If you can accomplish something, something you said you’d accomplish, it shouldn’t be necessary to be praised for that effort.

But what about the responsibility that you don’t sign up for? The responsibility that was heaved upon you because of the choices made by others. Heaved upon you without a second thought…  Choices that you had no say in. Your say wasn’t even considered. But that responsibility is there, and the same rules apply as if you’d willingly signed up for the obligations. Even though you didn’t.

I do a lot. And it’s even hard to admit that, to myself, because it’s been hammered into me, time and time again that “this is what I do. This is what I have to do.”

It’s my responsibility.

But I do so fucking much and it is not openly appreciated or even oftentimes acknowledged.

So where does that leave me? What do I do?

I know, I know. I do my responsibility. 

I love you and I will probably always love you but secretly I'm a little bit glad you're leaving because the more time we spend together the more I want to make really bad decisions. 

The problem is we could have had something great but we can't now because of our fucking history and because of the way you acted. Sorry sweetheart, but it really is your fault.

I love you and I wish I could be with you but I'm not going to be with someone who couldn't admit how he felt about me, someone who was embarrassed of how he felt about me, someone who degraded me to everyone but me. 

That's not okay and as much as I want to resent my friends for reminding me of that fact, it's the best thing they could do for me right now. Because you're not okay and being with you would signify a lot that I don't want to be. 

I love you. 

But that doesn't mean any more than that. 

"They call you heartless; but you have a heart and I love you for being ashamed to show it." -- Nietzsche

Bad Day

Author's note: I wrote this last week, but it's just as meaningful now as it was when I wrote it. And today I want to be reminded of the fact that we can do this, because we're us. And we can get through anything together.

She storms back into the house, seething. Worn down to her breaking point by a long day, a busy week, and an exhausting month; an encounter with stoned teenagers and a misbehaving dog has finally sent her over the edge tonight. As she throws herself down on the couch, her eyes staring determinedly forward at the television, I look over at her tentatively.

“You want another glass of champagne?” I ask calmly.

Her shoulders drop the slightest bit and she lets out a small sigh. “Yes, I would definitely like another glass,” she responds and I can hear the tension leaving her voice.

So I go and pour her one and when I hand it to her, I lean over and kiss her shoulder teasingly. She laughs. We turn on the movie and begin to animatedly mock the wardrobes of the actors. Things are better.

This is the real reason I planned on coming home this weekend. Last week when she called me I could hear the desperation in her voice. And these past few weeks have been so much harder on me than I’ve been able to admit. We’ve needed each other, but we haven’t been able to be there for each other as much as we should.

So this morning, I climbed into the passenger seat of her car, pull my knees up to my chest, lean my head back. And as she pulls into the drive-thru at our favorite fast food restaurant, I finally pour out the darkness that I’ve been keeping to myself for the past few weeks.

“Things have been really hard this month and I don’t know why,” I say, trying to keep my voice from trembling. “It’s just been really, really hard, for no real reason. I’m so exhausted. I’ve been so depressed lately and I can’t blame it on any one thing.”

“I’ve been feeling the exact same way,” she says. “It’s just been a really terrible month, but not for any particular reason.”

We go back and forth, catching each other up on the big things and the little things, and generally just letting ourselves go a little bit. Neither of us have to hold it all in anymore; neither of us have to hold it together. So I take a deep breath and tell her the one thing that’s been the most on my mind recently. The thing that I’ve been too scared to admit out loud to anyone yet.

“My anxiety’s been getting worse and worse lately,” I say quietly. “It keeps amplifying and sooner or later it’s going to get to a point where I know I won’t be able to handle it on my own. There is going to come a point where I need medication for this and that scares the hell out of me.”

She nods. There’s nothing she needs to say, but I know she understands.

Because she’s Best Friend. My Best Friend. She is my best friend but most importantly she is the voice I can hear more clearly than my own but I still want to hear. For over five years now, we have been telling each other every insipid thought that comes into either one of our heads and we aren't tired of listening to each other yet.

“I wish I liked anyone as much as you two like each other!” a mutual friend once told us. We grinned and shared a glance of best friend championship.

I know our relationship is unconventional. We over-share an exceptional amount, but there are a few topics that we respectfully stay away from, for reasons that only the two of us understand. We have millions of inside jokes and we remember the most benign of details about EVERYTHING. We talk constantly, even when we’re in different countries, and we’ve always been able to make our friendship work even if the two of us are in different places. We are twins in many respects but vastly different in others.

But as unconventional as we are, it works for us. I would call her my other half but that wouldn’t be fair. Because we are us. The two of us combined are so much greater than the sum of she and me.

I never doubt her. I never worry about where she is; she is right beside me. She never worries about putting on the appropriate act with me; she knows I’ll listen to anything she needs to say. I never question or second-guess myself when I am with her. She’s able to let down her guard with me, relax a little more, and remember that sometimes it’s okay for things not to be okay. I let her rationalize experiences down to the bare bones and then remind her to take a minute to think about how she feels. She lets me scream and rage and cry, and then tells me to take a deep breath and a step back. And then together we goof and analyze, tease and discuss, always reveling in the appreciation of our togetherness.

We’ve had our moments of weakness. Times when we hurt or disregarded each other. We don’t really like to talk about those times. But they did happen, and thankfully they’ve only made us stronger. When they do come up in conversation, they’re just a precursor to our acknowledgement of what we learned from them.

I am so lucky to have her as my best friend. Through the good and the bad times, we’ve been able to support each other, to let each other know that we are Not Alone. Because together we can laugh or cry, do anything and feeling anything we fucking want, because we have each other.

And on days like these, a day when the scary things were too much to keep inside, I knew that she was the one I needed to tell and she was the one who would want to listen.

Not with a Bang

Hit me like a freight train in the middle of the ocean is like spinning falling out of control and not even knowing you were on a cliff is like head pounding pounding pounding not taking the tiniest step forward even though it’s right there is like screaming in a room full of people who think you’re just talking quietly is like not knowing how to ask for help or even if you need it is like begging for a shoulder to lean on but knowing you need to do this yourself but being so fucking terrified because alone and scary and not what I want is like knowing that I’m overreacting but not wanting to hear that because I’m so scared is like the little girl inside my head is in the corner with her eyes clenched shut and her hands clamped over her ears is like for the first time in a long time not knowing who to turn to or what to do next is like feeling helpless so helpless for no damn reason is like sitting very still and letting the tears roll down is like wanting to just stop moving and be numb is like knowing that would be the hardest most cataclysmic thing to do is like needing to do things more things three essays at least probably four plus tests and then best friend surprise and then family obligations and then making sure things are okay while feeling so not okay is like not knowing who to tell about that is like praying and not getting any answer at all is like sitting in my room and wondering where to go is like making too big of a deal and knowing that you’re going to cause a nervous breakdown if you think about it for one minute more.

Not with a bang but a whimper. The screaming is on the inside.  

I wish I could just run into you so that I could know how I'm going to react. Truthfully, this feels a lot stranger than I'm letting on. I just want to see you so that I can know what that feels like and adjust accordingly.

But at the root of this, all I keep thinking is, "I'm so mad at you, I'm so mad at you, I don't think I'm getting over this anytime soon."

It's hard to publicly pronounce you to be a good guy, tell everyone that we ended on good terms, and publicly give my blessing for your new relationship when privately I'm seething over your abandonment of our friendship. All I want to say is, "He's an asshole who rarely thinks of anyone but himself."

I don't say that. I'm better than that.

Doesn't mean I don't feel it though. I'm mourning your loss in a different way these days. And that loss is hard to come to terms with in relationship to my fury at you.

Because how can you miss someone you want to scream at? 

What makes You special

is not that you have all the answers
or that you could make my life better
brighter smarter bigger

No, it is the fact
that you want to see
and do see
every little part of me

and still love me all the more for it.

When I Die

When I die, say what you want to say, not what you think should be said. No forced jovialities, no overlying themes, no required party lines. Say what you feel inside you. Make it real. Give me genuine.

No one should feel pressured to mention God. He wants your honesty as much as I do. Don’t express hope unless you feel it. Find the line between sorrow and joy and walk wherever you want. Cross the line. Pretend it doesn’t exist.

Funerals are for the living. The words spoken should help the speaker as much, if not more, than the listeners.

Tell them that no one knows where I am now but I had faith and that’s all that matters.

Tell them I felt every minute of my rich, little, boring life. That I was deeply blessed and not grateful enough to deserve the countless beautiful infinities that made my life good. Tell them that my life was filled with warmth, laughter, pain, and faith and that was more than enough for me.

Tell them Hemingway made me cry and Bill Bryson made me laugh. Tell them the best moments of my life nearly always involved being around water and that long car rides with the people I loved on our way to adventures filled my heart with joy. Make sure they know that some infinities are bigger than other infinities but that I remembered them all.

Give my pearls to my sister, my Mexican bracelets to Karen, and my clothes to Jacinta.

Give my books to everyone. People will know what they need to take. But take This Side of Paradise to a used book store where it will be discovered and appreciated by someone new. Someone like me.

Tell them I loved them. Oh, lord, let them know how I loved them with every fiber of my being, my whole life long.

Tell Jacinta she was my other half and she will roll her eyes because she knew that already but she also knew that I needed to tell her one last time. Tell Karen she was the special one in all the best ways and she will understand. Tell Victor he saved me; tell Tiffany and Victoria that they were my favorite companions. Tell my mother she made me, my father that I loved him for all the ways he tried his hardest. Tell my brothers they made my life good and tell my sister she made me proud.

Tell the people I haven’t met yet the things they need to hear, the things that are real. Make sure they know, that they all know, that the best parts of me were what I learned from all of them.

And when my heart no longer beats, tell them that it’s carried in theirs now.

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) ~ ee cummings

Note: A dear family friend passed away very suddenly this past week and after his funeral today, I was struck with thoughts of how delicate the thoughts voiced at funerals often are, and the sentiments that I would want to leave behind after my death. And so I wrote this. Names not changed because of artistic license. 

Truth is I love you deeper than I think I've loved anyone, but I'm not sure if that means that we should be together. 

I'm not sure if either of us are willing to make the sacrifices necessary for that.

I'd move there. I'd move anywhere. But I want a lot of things and I don't know if you want to give those things to me. 

Straight to the Heart

Written to me by one of my mentors, these are some of the kindest, most encouraging words I've received in awhile. They're lovely.

I decided this would be the perfect valentine for you this year-- because it can be representative of what 2013 can be for you --> no more recrimination, no more castigation: go straight to the heart of what you want and who you want to be. Get to the heart of what drives you, motivates you, and makes you BURN bright. And chase that love. FEEL THAT LOVE... even if it's a little piercing! I believe in it-- and you! 

I Know You.

I know you. And I know that you must be ridiculously excited to see me because you mention my trip every time we talk now. And you took such delight in saying, "see you in a few weeks" as goodbye tonight. 

I savor you. 

A Promise to Myself

No matter how much I love you, no one is worth not living my own life.

I will move forward. I will try (and pray) to reach you again, but that will not be my only goal.

I will remain my own person. I will have my friends, my activities, my own enjoyment that does not involve you. I will not sit at home every night, waiting to hear from you.

I don't always have to be happy. I do always have to keep my own identity.

This life of mine may not be exactly what I wish it was, but it is still worth living.

I promise myself to live it.

A Thought

"You've known me for too long. You can tell everything you need to know about this from the way I talk to her on the telephone."

"That is very true." 

Everything

A dozen little fantasies replay themselves daily in my head. There are too many of them to count. I think them when I have a down moment at work, or when I’m drifting off to sleep.

(And I know you want to know what those fantasies are, but they are my precious secrets—for the moment anyway.)

I’m sitting here, trying to think of what I could write in this last little vignette, whether or not I should continue with the theme of hopeless infatuation and desperate love, but it suddenly occurs to me that I should write about my best friend.

I am not one of those people who only has one “best friend.” And it’s been a running theme in my life that different ones of my best friends fulfill different roles for me. Antelope is my comfort, my rock, my biggest source of support to whom I run when I need to take a step back and think. My Sister Wife is the smarty-pants, who’s willing to discuss Supreme Court cases with me over lunch. I can tell all of my terrible gossip and embarrassing stories to another. And it goes on.

But then there’s her. From the beginning, I overshared. And, being the kind and generous person that she is, she graciously let me word vomit all through our first meeting.

For four months, I told her everything. And I mean everything. The stories that embarrassed me, the moments when I was most proud, the things about me that normally one learns over a much longer period of time. And those stories were reciprocated. We quickly became “the package deal,” the girls who understood each other perfectly and never grew tired of each other.

I would never be able to fully describe how much I admire her. This kind, funny, observant soul that I had the pleasure of getting to know for the last several months. I could relay one of our many adventures to you, or tell you about one of the numerous occasions I couldn’t stop looking at her, but they could never capture her essence, or what it was about her that I love dearly and admire fervently.

There were the times I dragged her into town, desperate to escape that cloistered little microcosm and she willingly acquiesced. We tried on outfit after hilarious outfit, making wry comments to each other the whole time simply to pass the day.

There were the weekend trips we took, subconsciously (and oftentimes consciously) refusing to go without another. Because, at least for me, nothing was as fun without her to share it with. Everything, from going to the beach to accompanying a friend on a long drive, was made better by her sparkling presence.

On my part, I was delighted with my good luck of having met her and being her friend. I rejoiced in the trips we took, the stories we confessed, and the thoughts we shared through glances. I had prayed, hard and desperately, that I would be okay on that great big adventure. And she was quite literally an answer to my prayers.

We promised each other, one night where everything changed, that our friendship came first. The closeness that we’d grown used to and had come to love—that closeness was most important. No matter what.
And now she is gone, and I’m still trying to figure out how to deal with being apart from this best friend of mine, the one who became everything.

She is everything in the way that we saw each other every day and never grew tired of each other. She is everything in the way that I spared no detail of my little life from her, instead laying myself bare for her. She is everything in how I know her and how she knows me.

I think of her too often, now that we have gone back to our home states. We’ve gone back to our “real” lives, the lives we told each other so much about. The lives that we’re now trying to figure out each others’ respective places in. Our friendship may come first, but where does our theoretically new friendship belong in our old familiar settings?

That is the question I am struggling with.

 Everything. Where does that belong?