growing up

there are friendships and relationships that leave you heady with the love of life. a dinner and a movie with these kinds of people and you're driving home with the windows down, the smoky taste of tobacco and the night air, everything seen through some perfect gaussian filter that blurs the streetlights to dancing orbs peeling away from your speeding car. the sudden mist of evening showers, wet asphalt and perfume in the air and you feel so suddenly wonderfully alive. beautiful and free. like you could go on forever, like a contact high on a mountaintop of ecstasy and powdered sugar, barreling into the night.

and you know it takes a line of text in the cold light of your laptop from the other kind of friend that leaves all those fluttering feelings flailing like burnt bugs in a fly zapper. oh those kinds of friends. fair weather fairies fluttering flickering in furtive whispers, spring fevers, summer flings, autumn windfalls, fuckers all. fuck them all.

i've been struck with the broad side of my intuition, the great solid mass of my future, my adulticity. is this what it's like to wake up? strange it's so late in the night. and for some reason i imagined 20/20 vision, but what a cliché, right? what i mean is, what a waste of time. when i could be dancing in the evening rain. when i could be making breakfast plans with people who have good hearts, not empty husks. i know, i know, i know you can't hold time but i don't have time to spare for these vapors, for these vague manshapes and their breathy promises. these i'lltextyous and letsdolunch and loveyoulots, yeah, that's what i told your mom this morning, bitch.

i know i know i know you can't break a heart i mean it's an organ, it's very slippery and gamey probably, but i know mine knows pain in the most acute fashion, i'm not being emo i'm expressing a litany of emotions you could group together and if they were letters in an alphabet they'd spell something you'd recognize as heartbreak. there's a sound like the keening whine of cracking glass and you can't breathe and fuck but it hurts, and why are there tears. why am i crying over what appears to be dust in the glass. letters in the alphabet.

and i know, you know, i know there are times when you make mistakes and the people you think you love turn into statues of unknowable obsidian on the far side of olympus mons, what i mean is you don't know them anymore,

and maybe they've had these thoughts and i'm the bitch i'm the whore i'm the horrible bore that isn't worth their time. i'm the one with the loveyoulots and letsbefriends and whatever the fuck, i'm so sorry. god, god i'm so sorry. i never want to be that person ever again.

this is what waking up is. i'm so sorry, or fuck you. whatever you deserve. i'm done and i'm gone.

secret place

wish i could dig a hole to hide all my secrets in, shovel the dirt back on top and seal it off with a sigh.

so many friends and yet so dangerously alone, all the time. the impermanence of it all, the transience of socializing and befriending people, dumping all your heart into it and then watching them go away. i'm so done. i'm going to be alone from now on. it is something i will be okay with.

Okay.

Breathe breathe breathe.

I'm going to have to go through these posts and purge them one day or something. They're all a little too telling, unfortunately. Especially for what I have planned in the near future.

But for now, it's still the dumping grounds for this petite tete.

So I'm absolutely dead tired. Had another breakdown on Wednesday, cried all day. Tried having fun this weekend but everytime I sat in front of the computer again I just started crying and, as usual, I slept.

These things used to be so easy. I used to really write this stuff, all intently. I had a floodgate installed in there to keep the ideas from spilling out and now it's all rusted shut.

I used to like writing essays. And now. Now it seems like I don't like doing much of anything.

Procrastinationz

In which my social life is amazing and in turns amazingly depressing. And in which my school life suffers something horrible because I can't bring myself to give a shit.

I should be doing my french stuff. And my chinese stuff. And writing a ten-page paper. But there's so many millions of miles of things all up in my brain just jostling. it's not even noon and I've smoked maybe four cigarettes. Not really helping my cough. My liver hurts.

I'm wearing a sparkly cardigan, though, from the 90's, and it's so lovely it makes everything better. One of those outfits I tend to come up with the night before, and I get so excited about them I can't really sleep.

I really enjoy my mornings in French class. I show up a half hour late, but I get to smoke outside with the literature majors who are just the loveliest boys. I love Omar; he's so fucked up on the inside, and every time I see him there's some new lovely surprise about his super-fucked life.

I'd be with him in a heartbeat, but man if he isn't a bag of drowned kittens I'd rather not look into.

But our misery matches, and every explanation is coupled with an "I get it" or "I feel that way too." Man, if only he didn't look like a Lebanese Ellen Degeneres.

Anyway, been meeting up with the loveliest people all week for such good times. Drinking pretty much daily; trying to build up my tolerance for when I am abroad as I'd like not to end up in the hospital for trying to keep up with Dutch giantesses. Again. Laughing and joking and making so many grand plans; it's so good to be young. Supposed to go to Boiling Crab on Thursday, par exemple, or to Fullerton for happy hour soon. With Rogelio, who is such a laugh, and Memo and Serge. Oh my goodness what a night.

Unless it gets awkward and Memo starts crying because I say something horrible and insensitive. Again. I would. :(

But anyway, in the face of all that great good socializing, my coursework (month's work of chinese and french, 10 page paper on border conflicts due Wednesday) looks like walking into an Iron Maiden. With extra long spikes. Painted in venom.

God But I'm consumed with so much heartrending emotion.

I don't understand why I can't feel normally about things, you know? Like there's always been and there always shall be so much going on inside my head, and I'm near to bursting. I want to scream out.

I don't know why I let my life get controlled by all these feelings. It's driving me mad, and I want to be above it all, but I'm not. I'm just not. :(

Ugh.

The cold and empty feeling comes right after. You drive home in a daze. I'm so confused still and yet so clear. I know all it's going to ever come to is disaster, and still I'm the tugboat in the wake of some larger ship, some larger shit. fuck me. Fuck me but he's so lovely.

in other news the charity fundraiser i helped organize was horribly successful, and for the first time in a long time i feel satisfied and accomplished about school and about my professional future. I'm learning how to deal with people's ridiculous ish in a professional setting, and man does it take all types of annoying and ridiculous shit to make an event huh.

Like old times.

Shake up the old shyness like old times. Break out the cold sweats, pour out all the tremors and the palpitations like they used to come when he used to come around.

When he comes around it hits me square in the gut and i'm an idiot again. all over again. like old times.