I believe we were meant to make music.

When you start to second guess a person's feelings for you (a person whose feelings you never doubted before), I believe, that's when yours for them have magnified. It's the point where you actually truly care if they do disappear, the point where you wonder what you'll do when they're gone. It's the point that you have realized you have become dependent on these feelings. And it's a pain in the butt.

And for once, I feel like I may truly be leaving you behind. I heard a song on the radio last night about letting go. I happened to be thinking of you right before. I felt like it was talking to me. Even if it wasn't.

I know I'm on my period because I'm watching Sex & The City and crying. And the fact that I'm bleeding. That gave it away too.

Time to do some homework and watch more tv. So much for a long and interesting update.

There are things I could tell you. Things that would make you angry. Or jealous. But probably just angry. I don't tell you these things for my own good and a little for yours. It's 6:46am, way too freaking early for me to be up writing a livejournal entry...but here I am.

Tonight sucked. And reading that made me gag. It almost made me send you an email with things that would make you vomit. But I didn't. Because it's really none of your business anyway.

I see Karen tomorrow in her play. I'm stoked about that. I thought about just going home after that, but no. I'm going to come back. I'd rather be able to see John. He makes me feel better and this weekend (so far) has been SUCKY to the extreme.

I hate how emotional I get right before my period. Plus my boobs hurt. :-/ Too much information, I know. Deal.


Bed again, then church, then KAREN :)

I feel like I've lost a part of me, and I know that I have.

+ I want to try out for Guys and Dolls.
+ I want to stay in Greenville. So I probably will. I just need to find somewhere to stay. My mother doesn't want me using money to pay for an apartment.
+ You were never my type.
+ I havent done laundry in a LONG time. I'd rather sleep.
+ I bought a bottle of sparkling white grape juice.
+ I deserve better.
+ I've been spending money like it's my job.
+ I shaved my head.
+ I know what I'm really worth.
+ He makes me laugh. A lot. Sides hurting, tears falling. That kind of laughter.
+ He thinks I'm beautiful. He says "I know" though.
+ If it weren't for myself, I'd be happy.



Time to watch tv and sleep...yes, at the same time.

McDonald's McCafe has amazing hot chocolate. Try it.

Sometimes I look at her pictures just to remind myself that I'm 20 times prettier than she will ever be.
It makes me feel better. It makes me not care so damn much.
Which is sad, but
when you feel like I feel you begin to go with the motto, "Whatever works."

Yesterday was John and I's 3 month anniversary. We spent it doing absolutely nothing except enjoying each other's company. It was nice. He got me the new Train cd, which makes me happy. I didn't get him anything because I didn't know that you should get something on a 3 month anniversary. And you probably don't have to. It's really the thought that counts, and I just didn't think.

Tomorrow is another anniversary. A 3 year anniversary. One that won't come with gifts or spending hours talking with one another. This is 3 years of loss. Three years without. And between all of this I think, I could have used you. It would have been nice, if you were there.. I wanted to go home today. I wanted to get that letter you wrote. I wanted to have it so that I could read it tomorrow. It's sitting in it's wooden box, decorated with Paris and you. I couldn't go home though. I didn't have the money to spend on just a day trip home. Plus I had an awful headache this morning.

Last night I stayed up till 2:30am after work to watch In Her Shoes, which I loved. Because I have sisters. And I know.


One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

-- Elizabeth Bishop

So I'm still sick. I had to leave work early, and I went back to the doctors today because the antibiotic they gave me wasn't working. Today they gave me some new stuff plus oxycodone for my pain and some dramamine for my nausea. I was definitely needing something.

In other news, I'm trying to get my life back in track. It's a lot harder than I could have imagined, but I know if I really want something I can do it.

Tomorrow I have dinner plans with a girl I don't know. Yet. She seems pretty sweet, but she also seems like she's really shy and closed person. Hopefully we'll get along. I could always use more girl friend around here.

School tomorrow. Ugh.

on a side note: I can't find my pictures i got developed yesterday :( Even though the majority of them didn't show up. The film was so old and

What a blah entry this has turned into.

There are so many memories tied up in me. At times, like now, they are kicking and screaming and begging for me to relive them. To rehash them. And it's the little things. As I have said many times before. It's the little things that get me. My initials. The tear in the mattress. The absence of you. Your smell on over 50 pages of white paper. I'm afriad if I smell it too much it'll disappear. Like the roses did. And that just when I need to breathe you in the most, I won't be able to. I miss with such an ache. I keep asking myself, when will I get over this? And this. And this. Not just you...but this. This whole ache inside of me. I feel like I'm hitting a brick wall. But much harder than you did. I'm destroying myself. I'm pretending. I'm afraid other people, the people I want least to see, will notice. They will find me out. They won't understand. They won't see that I'm falling. They will only see what damage I've done on my way down. They will forget I am falling. I will crash. I'm tired. Tired of living. I'm ready to go Home. I'm ready to stop. I know what it feels like now to exhaust yourself of life. This is not admirable. I am not admirable. I only tell myself the truth because it allows me some bit of dignity. It lets me know I'm not gone completely. In some ways it lets me justify all of _____. I hate hearing my mom's voice on the phone. It's probably guilt. I'm supposed to be a good kid. I'm screwing up. I'm letting her down. I keep listening to this one song on repeat. Because it fits.

I want to call you. No. I want you to call me. I want to tell you that, this hurts. But that I've thought about it. And. I know you love me. I know that you will always love me. If only as a memory. A memory of love. As I will you. I know I could have had you again. I know I didn't choose you. You deserve to be happy. I want you to be happy. I just can't watch you be happy with her. So, yes, I'm running. It's hard. Because. Because you were.are.still. my best friend. I could tell you
anything. almost anything.

except how bad it hurts inside. I want to be fair. I want to quit school. I want to quit. Everything.



I'm becoming a part of your past
I'm becoming the part that don't last
I'm losing you and it's effortless.

When you quit something, like smoking or drinking or cussing. Or people. The only way to do it is cold turkey. None of that less and less each day bullcrap. You've got to make a complete 180 degree turn.Otherwise you'll keep smoking. You'll drink again. You'll swear. So that's what I'm doing with you. Dropping you, cold turkey. No more of this letting go fifty percent. No more thinking of you. No more you. And at the time, when I was deleting you, when I was blocking you, when I was yelling at you--it felt good. I wanted to hurt you the way you had hurt me. I didn't care. I didnt think that in a few hours, or a few minutes, I'd regret it. Even if only a little. I didn't think that your voice would be the only one I'd want to hear. I didnt think about that. Because I knew that If I did, I wouldnt do it. I would not have the guts to quit you. You were something I never wanted to quit. I used to have panic attacks just thinking of the day when there would no longer be an Us. or even a You. Now that day is here. It's there. Right there. I keep thinking of that one dream I had. Where you left me for someone else. I keep thinking how I woke up in tears; I think of how I called you and cried to you. I think of how you reassured me, and I think about how my heart will always hurt with the mention of your name.

You would be disappointed in the girl I am now. I know I am. I miss you.

That's what it all comes down to.
And I'm so tired of missing you.
And if I can't make myself disappear
I'll do the next best thing.

It's 1:47pm. I'll have to write this entry fast because I have to be in my World Religions class by 2. Ugh. It's okay though, I don't do anything in the class except read whatever book happens to be at my disposal, which currently is The Blind Assassin. Exciting.

Cass came down yesterday. It was a very chill day. No pictures were taken. haha. I ate gummy bears and drank 3/5ths of a liter of water, which is a lot for me. Did I mention I named each gummy bear right before I ate it? A little creepy, I know. We watched The Notebook last night. It always makes me hurt somewhere deep down inside. That's why I've only seen it (well, twice now). She left around 11am today.

I'm definitely craving some reese cups. So I'm going to go now so I can grab some on my way to class.

Tonight should be a good night.
Because today is beautiful. And I'm pretty sure those things go hand in hand.

I'm getting good at trapping my emotions inside. I'm getting good at locking them so far inside of me I'm not sure they even exist anymore. A shadow is all that's left. Which is really, nothing.

Tonight is my one night off. I wanted to go out with my boyfriend. To dinner. Or a movie. Or something mundane that other couples do. Just for a change of pace. Just because I could. I took a shower, dried my hair. Curled it. With a curling iron. Just for you, because I know you like it curled.

Instead of hanging out with you though, I'm sitting in my room. Listening to Cold. One of my favorite bands. That is now broken up. I'm mourning something, but I'm not sure what exactly. Tonight. My $120 dollars. My 3.7gpa. Myself. Everything comes or goes at a cost to someone. I feel like crying, but I'm wearing mascara. And this isn't the kind of crying that will be worth messing up my makeup. Everything is a test. I would say you failed, but I know I would have felt guilty if you had made the choice to hang out with me instead. Who cares that I have to work tomorrow night? Who cares. I'm doing pretty well at surpressing it. I can't help but hurt a little. I can't help it.

At times I wish I had the ability to disappear inside myself. I wish that she could hear me scream.

Today we did this exercise in my Intro to Poetry Writing class. We had to start 10 sentences with Grief is...and conclude it with a metaphor. We only had about 7 minutes to write it. This is what I came up with:

Grief is a white-knuckled fist, clenched.
Grief is waking up alone
Grief is walking on hot pavement
Grief is clothing, rain soaked
Grief is a run-on sentence
Grief is the splintering of glass before it breaks.
Grief is a heavy coat.
Grief is packing up all of your belongings but never going anywhere.
Grief is kissing a man you don't love.
Grief is going blind.


Doing some laundry right now. Today I felt like a writer. But that isn't saying much. It's only one day. And I'm tired. I'm getting over a headache. I'm watching television, and I'm pretty sure the only reason why I still have a faint headache is because I havent had anything to eat since 1ish. It's 8:09pm. Right now if I had only one wish, I'm pretty sure I'd waste it on an uncertainty.

Mom and Dad are coming up Sunday for a "surprise" visit. They told my sister, who told me, because I don't like surprises. At least, ones like that. They told my sister not to tell me, but. My sister loves me. Which is why I miss her. I miss both my sisters.

I'm reading The Blind Assassin. Hopefully I'll be able to give that book back to Cassandra soon. I've had it way too long.

I'm going to pay my ticket tomorrow. $120 poorer.

And on that note, I'm too depressed to keep writing!

I guess that's just how it goes. You try your hardest to forget something, and you do. And then occasionally the creepy little wench appears under your nose. In your own words. In the faces of people who expected more out of you. Than well, that.

I hate school. I'm ready to quit. Seriously.
Screw my 3.7gpa. Because, I pretty much already have. :-/





I've fallen apart. And putting myself back together is harder than I thought it would be.

what am I doing? she says. eyes closed, hair pulled back. she sits at the edge of her bed. she stares into a mirror. she's fascinated with the blue blue of her eyes, and the way her neck flows into the rest of her body. It isnt so much that she thinks she's beautiful--she's involved with the way her body aches; she wants to know what they see, what they all see when they look at her. not what they tell her, she wants to crawl inside their minds, she wants to see what she looks like through someone else's eyes. she wants to kiss herself, just so she can understand what they mean when they say I love kissing you. You're addictive. She wants to know what it feels like to be the hearts of the ones she's broken. So she can know. Did she touch them deep enough
the way they've touched her, leaving her scarred and inappropriate for anyone else? Never clean. She's carrying her memories around with her, one suitcase. Promises. When she leaves you, she sees a million faces in her rearview mirror, and when she says I love you, she never knows, anymore, who she's talking to.

I got my period last night at work. So fun times for me. My mom also found out about my ticket. The one I was so stressed out about. And yes, as I predicted she flipped out on me. Now, she says the only reason she flipped out was because I didn't tell her. But anyone who knows my mom, knows that this isnt the case. Even though the ticket is taken care of, even though, she still flipped out. Wondering WHY I didnt tell her, coming up in her own little mind that there were these bizarre reasons why I didn't share that bit of information with her. And the only reason I didn't was because I didn't want to upset her. I didn't want to be another money burden for her. She almost drove up in the middle of the night she was so upset. I hate surprise visits. I hate not being prepared. I guess that's life though.

I'm so excited for friday. Cassandra is coming down! It'll be such an awesome weekend. Lots of good food, camera whoring, movie watching. The works. It's been WAAAAAY too long since I've had girl interaction.

I can't wait to go see Karen's play. :) I might make John go with me....we'll see if he wants to. He might not appreciate it though. I don't know. I'll probably just go alone.

Time for church.
I feel a bit sad, but I'm not sure why.
Work was long, but A LOT better than friday. (Friday I had a panic attack at work! How exciting. Throwing up sucks, especially throwing up alone. Outside. In the cold.)

It's cold outside. I guess really, it's just windy. My eyes are watering and my nose is burning, and I keep ignoring that in less than 2 hours I have a test in World Religions that I'm just not prepared for. Not in the slightest bit. I don't think it's fair that I should be tested by a man who presents such an interesting topic in the most boring way possible. It should be illegal for a man like that to teach. He has possibility to be entertaining, in small doses and small classes, but this is a rather large class and one of my longer ones. To give you an idea, it took him the first 4 or so class meetings to tell us how he was GOING to teach us, instead of actually teaching us. I haven't really learned anything, minus the visit to the Hindu temple here in Gville.

I realized on my way back to my dorm that I no longer cycle through our memories. I no longer sit on my bed and let our moments together play like some lost romantic independent film in my head. I don't let myself remember what it felt like to be with you. Because then I miss. And when I miss, I want. And when I want, I'm no longer content with what I have. I love what I have. But what is it about people, and writers especially, where they are never quite (completely) happy, they seem to always be wanting and searching for something else? The things that have seemed to make me most happy are those fleeting moments. The ones I knew even as they were occuring that they would not last forever, and it was as if with that knowledge I fell in love deeper with the very feeling, the very moment, the very action, the perfections or imperfections of that person or that place. If I know I could lose you, I will love you deeper. Maybe that's what I'm saying.



I'm tired. Time to go read.

I like to breathe you in when you're not looking. You have a smell that's comforting, intoxicating, almost like walking to somewhere safe. I like to touch your scars. I run my fingers over them--pain so large and deep I wonder how you managed to survive. A mark over your heart. For every time you screwed something up. Punishment. A reminder. All my scars are accidental, and most of them you can't even see.

I gained weight. 99lbs. It's a record for me. I can't decide how I feel about it. I know that it's not healthy for me to be a little sad that I gained weight, but to be honest with you, I'd probably cry if I broke 100. Then again, I dont want to weigh less than 95lbs. It's a psychological thing. When something you've never had to worry about (i.e. weight) suddenly might become another something you have to start worrying about...I don't know where I'm going with that.

It's cold in here. Everything feels so cold these days. Some days I think I'm making progress. Other days I feel like I've been falling behind. Drifting, drifting. I need to read some philosophy. I have two tests tomorrow. I feel doomed. I feel like I'm in highschool all over again. Never going to make it. I just want to stop.


This started off as something important, but the more I sit here and write the less I find I have to say.

I miss Frankie and my girls and the way I could lean on you.

you kissed me the way you kiss someone right before you say goodbye. dripping lips, holding close, never quite letting go, eyelash against eyelash. I touch you and you feel too real, the real that's so real I know I can lose it in an instant. I stay awake all night, closing my eyes briefly, and for a moment time has expanded. or frozen. solidified, held captive by the force of need, memory. I'm making a memory of this moment. I inhale the smells of the room. Your shirt, my fingers, beer, cool air. Then time changes, it shifts. Suddenly, i'm heading toward a plane. I look back, one more time, to watch you watch me leave you. I can't remember what it felt like to hug you goodbye. and my heart hurts, because the night is so full now of goodbyes. too many of them, and when i see your pants draped over my chair i want to pick them up and smell them because they might remind me of that night. not that you were special to me really, but those nights were. so important to me. a lifetime tied up in 7 hours. Then i'm back in the room with you and i'm scared again. I'm imagining your laugh gone, the way your eyes crinkle at the sides when you smile, the real smile, and i realize i'm addicted to losing. to the endless goodbyes. to the falling tears, to the almost perfect love. and i think, don't leave me dont leave me. I think, you've already left in some ways. I felt you drift away. I felt it in the way you wouldnt hold me completely, arms wrapped all the around. I thought, he'll never say it again and I wont either. And I turned away because i can't look at you when you wont look at me. It's being noticably shut out and shut down.

Flash. I'm back on the plane. I'm wearing my green and pink checkerd jacket (the one he hasn't seen me in yet) and I'm staring out the window, lake tahoe, and how far away you are. I start crying uncontrollably, i play music, i rewind the 10 days in my head and it isn't enough. I watch the man next to me watch me watch him, and we're caught in this awkward dance of the eyes and I know he knows I'm crying, because a tear fell on his hand. He turns away. Disgusted. Men don't cry. Nor do they watch little girls cry. That's what I am, a little girl. That's what I've always been.

I think, we have learned to see the world in gasps. and nobody's heart is perfect.

Now I'm back with him again, feeling him turn and face the wall. I'm scared again. I'm touching touch. I'm focusing on the moment right before that moment, and I know the difference between now and then. It isn't a loss of a love, it's a loss of hope.

and I know that's worse.

I skipped two classes today.
Math and one of my Philosophy classes. Smart, Kari.
I'm sick. I just didnt feel like walking all the way to brewster this morning.
So I'm chillin' in my room, watching Will & Grace, eating food and drinking my coke. Just enjoying being completely relaxed and gross for a day. heh.
In an hour I'll take a shower, dry my hair, go to my World Religions class, poetry class, and then start my laundry.
Tonight John will help me with the math I didnt learn today and Tuesday. I feel bad. But I almost dont even care.

Life is going OK. I generally have a lot on my mind these days. I havent written here in awhile, really written, because I haven't been able to coherently put my thoughts into words. The entries just come out in rambles. Or nothing comes out at all. I feel like I'm betraying everyone. Last night he sat there, I pushed his buttons, it was our one month. He played with the bear I got him for christmas, never looking at me. not once. He just stared at the bed. I tried to look at him long and hard, to force him to look back, but that didn't work. Eventually he got up looked at me and said, "Yeah, we're going to be together for a looong time. It's our one month and we're not even talking." I felt awful. Like I'd been punched in the gut. Then he got up and left. I crawled under the covers completely, he came back and grabbed me to him. Held me. And I just kind of sat there. Scared. Scared of what, I don't know. I was so sad. In my head I just kept saying "I'm so sad, so sad, so damn sad." I didn't know what for or who for. Just the thought of losing, of what I've already lost, of hurting ...of causing hurt.

I think I'll read some more now.