i keep waiting to wake up, 16 and in love.

look at love
how it tangles
with the one fallen in love

look at spirit
how it fuses with earth
giving it new life

why are you so busy
with this or that or good or bad
pay attention to how things blend

why talk about all
the known and the unknown
see how the unknown merges into the known

why think seperately
of this life and the next
when one is born from the last

look at your heart and tongue
one feels but deaf and dumb
the other speaks in words and signs

look at water and fire
earth and wind
enemies and friends all at once

the wolf and the lamb
the lion and the deer
far away yet together

look at the unity of this
spring and winter
manifested in the equinox

you too must mingle my friends
since the earth and the sky
are mingled just for you and me

be like sugarcane
sweet yet silent
don't get mixed up with bitter words

my beloved grows
right out of my own heart
how much more union can there be
{

come on sweetheart
let's adore one another
before there is no more
of you and me

a mirror tells the truth
look at your grim face
brighten up and cast away
your bitter smile

a generous friend
gives life for a friend
let's rise above this
animalistic behavior
and be kind to one another

spite darkens friendships
why not cast away
malice from our heart

once you think of me
dead and gone
you will make up with me
you will miss me
you may even adore me

why be a worshiper of the dead
think of me as a goner
come and make up now

since you will come
and throw kisses
at my tombstone later
why not give them to me now
this is me
that same person

i may talk too much
but my heart is silence
what else can i do
i am condemned to live this life
--rumi.

I would love to kiss you.
The price of kissing is your life.
Now my loving is running toward my life shouting,
What a bargain, let's buy it.
--rumi.

An old note on a coffee filter that I thought i'd thrown away, haphazardly peeking out between my clothes from school in the morning.

You always knew how to navigate my trainwreck of a room, scorning me for how completely incapable I was of having a clean space in my life.

I keep seeing signs of you everywhere, keep testing you in my head, keep trying to convince another and another. Really, i am trying to coax you back.

Healthy or unhealthy it is what I am doing, and Its all I know to do.

You were the better half in our situation, and I say that with no remorse attached.

If i had the courage to write to everyone exactly what I am thinking, it would probably come out in a stream of conciousness somewhat relating to this:
  I am scared shitless and honestly do not have any idea what I am doing here.

 I keep trying to figure out what I want to do with my life, yet I can't seem to find it.  I waffled around through high school, convincing myself that i was going to be an actor, but never committing enough to the idea.  I was a singer, i worked hard in school---i thought i would figure it out in college.
 Well, i can never make any of the theatre auditions, and i honestly don't want to half of the time, which is probably a bad sign. i can't get involved in anything because I am only marginally interested in anything at any given moment, and I don't have any direction to speak of even though every time I open my mouth I spew this grand "plan".  My plans used to come true, but now I can't even organize myself enough to set up one tenth of such a scheme.  I pretend I want to be a director, but do I? 
 Somewhere along the line, I convinced myself that this was the job that was going to give me such unharnessed joy and fulfillment--the sort of job that was impressive but challenging. i could be an artist and a real person at the same time!
but now, i'm set loose at this school where everyone not only has such an esoteric plan but has also set it into motion and I am stopped. I don't know what the fuck I  think I am doing, but it is certainly not getting me any closer to any of my goals. I am stopped, stuck, the works are gummed up and I really don't know where to go from here.  If i can't motivate myself into something i am supposed to love doing, how the hell can I make any of this work? So, does that mean that this is the wrong choice? If so, what is the right choice? Where can I go with any of this? a big, fat nowhere? because honestly, that is what it feels like.
 i'm here and everyone is either a prodigious master or already practically perfect at what they want to do, and I'm standing in wonderful mediocrity, which is by the way my least favorite place to be, and i cannot seem to catapult myself upward.
 All of this time, energy, and tears spent towards going out of state, good college good college good college--and here I am at a good college with no fucking direction, no REAL real friends, nothing but a higher alcohol tolerance thanks to three nights a week of drinking because I am not a part of an organization and I don't know how to do anything else here.

 So if this isn't my dream, what is? is there such a thing? or did i mistake myself into believing that one's career and job must bear a meaning to them.  Was that too presumptious? that I could have something that was a geniune passion? Did i just not work hard enough, did i waffle too much? probably, that's the case.
 
 Is it seriously too late? it feels too late. 
  
 In which case, my heart is broken.

Its so odd, because last year I sobbed and cried and couldn't eat and lost weight and spent so many nights too drunk on someone's floor vomiting and sobbing and generally making the biggest fucking retarded asshole of myself possible.

 But now, I haven't cried. I can't cry!
But I can't sleep and I can't eat and I can't call you or do anything but occasionally say I miss you or call someone who honestly only marginally interests me.

 It's like my eyes have had enough, so everything else is compensating.
 
  I can't quite shake the feeling that leaving you is the worst thing  I can do.

but then again, I'm not very much more mentally advanced than I was at 13.

 I forgot how fun it is to throw myself into work.

 I love my Darwin class.  Mostly, I love the text we're using. It's so interesting and I'm only like ten pages into it.  That and a Dave Eggers book called What is the What about Sudanese Lost Boys, Oh, hey GHA--thanks for helping me in the real(ish) world too!

I love that of all of my "texts" are novels or books that READ like novels.  I love that my professors are honestly and truly obsessed with what they are teaching.  I know that won't happen every semester, but it is heartening nonetheless.

 my theatre teacher did grad school at Yale--in directing.  Which is coincidentally exactly what I wanted to do. Serendipitous? maybe. 

 I just really want to be happy here.
 Or, somewhere. And honestly, I think I'm getting there. 

If i didn't mention that  I'm rereading Franny and Zooey, I am. I  love it so much, and I don't care how obnoxious that love may be.
 

it's getting better,slowly but surely I am finding my niche.

 my spanish teachers are intimidating in the amount of dedication that they expect and give to the class. I never really considered myself an avid language student, but I guess i am now.
 My theatre teacher is a crazy hippie who knows that Shepherdstown is a real place, went to Yale School of Drama, and pretty much lived the life I am hoping to acheive, minus all of the competitveness that I seem to have engrained in my personality.  though, I am wondering whether or not all of my bite is slowly draining out and  I am becoming reserved and restrained.  
   I am considered a quiet girl here, no lie. 

 I am so glad for a sustained conversation with you, I want to see you sometime. I want to see you being okay, living your life happily, becoming a real person again.  I am tired of demonizing you, and while you've hurt me so badly, I have other hurts to tend to and really can't look over one so old and so many times patched up. Plus,  I am so sick from being angry. 

The sunsets are missing the mountains.

So, so alone.

really, all I wanted was a goodbye.
  And it hurts worse than anything that I got nothing all week.
I'm not going to be a baby about it, I'm not going to even bring it up.

My feelings are just really hurt.


 Goodbye, kids. If you ever get the urge to be 8 hours away, you know where to find me.

you know, usually staying friends entails occasionally telling me how  your day is going.
Jesus, I am not a lightswitch--and saying that I miss you just means that, not that I want to jump back into bed.

I am not having a repeat performance.  Not with you. over and over i hear Trey telling me almost a year ago what a bad idea this was.
  I hate to say that he might have been right, I can't afford to lose all contact with you.

 I keep telling myself onward and upward but I feel like there is so much that is not and cannot be resolved before I leave that there is no point, really.
  Because no matter how far away I get, those things are going to follow me and pull my hair and keep me up.

  I am going to finish packing up my life today.

It felt so nice to just let go for once.

 You're cute, and you say such nice things to me.  You seem genuine, and I like that.  There aren't enough real people in this world. 

Sigh.

 It is easier to leave, except that i  almost wish it weren't.

Really, scratch the almost.  I certainly wish it weren't.

Two days left.

i should really have seen this coming.
 broken heart, broken heart, broken heart.

I just want everything to stay the same.

 I wish you wouldn't pull away from me.

All i need is a hug, and a ton of reassurances that occasionally we'll all come back together again and have a moment of whatever it is we had for this fleeting summer.

 I love my life--I am excited for the future.

 And I am sad to see my adventures take a turn that is so separate from the companions i have kept for so long.

chaos chaos chaos.

everything and everyone is disappointing me at the last moment.

get. me. out. please.

Officially scared of everyone leaving.

Officially determined to bring Addison with me.

Okay, I get it now.
Sort of.
But that doesnt excuse anything but that first, awful, horrible month. The rest of the nightmare is still your own damn fault.

Its not that I don't like my house, I just feel less comfortable here as of late.

I am running away as fast as I can, but wishing I could stay put, but saying good riddance all at the same time.

 Both harder and easier than I thought.

 I have come to notice that i live in simultaneous opposites.

Really, everything is going to be okay.

 And really, i love my family more than anything.
I guess we're just not used to fighting. We don't really have "family fueds" that last more than a day or two.

 

Deep breaths. No need to go all Braveheart on someone just because they may not think that my mother is the best ever always.

 Though honestly, who could NOT think that? 

 It's probably unhealthy for me to want to be half the mom my mother is, but I totally and completely think that she's really really good at the whole "mom" thing.