music festivals...

Thursday, Friday, Saturday- district music festival. Yesterday I went to gym and was forced to do pushups to a soundloop of a deranged woman repeating over and over "down... up" with a really catchy cadence to her voice.
I did 29, more than the whole class except for one person, but I my grade will still drop because I got 31 last time.
Yesterday I had my piano solo at district festival. My arms ached from pushups. My hands shook. I was so scared I'd forget part of it that the middle lacked expression. I wanted so badly to do well, to prove my mother wrong who said I couldn't and wouldn't. But I screwed up again. Then I had to endure three painful hours of symphony practice. (There's a concert on my birthday, May 21st. YUCK!).
Today I had two orchestra performances, in which I was first chair bass and first chair second violin, the second of which I messed up during the sight reading but thankfully did not lead my section astray.
I also had my cello solo, for which my arms ached and my eyes itched from fatigue. Apparently I did really well, played with all the expression I lacked yesterday. I can't stand life's irony.
Tomorrow, after another grueling symphony rehearsal (with many yet to come before the concert in a week... we're playing Mahler's resurrection symphony) I will play my violin solo. Now I really wanted to do well on my piano one, and on my cello one. But in heart, violin will always matter most to me. It's what I started first, ten years ago almost exactly when I was five years old in kindergarten. It's what always disappoints me the most when I fail. Last year's disastrous performance sent me into a mental breakdown that lasted for days.
I am confident about tomorrow. I couldn't practice more, or know my piece (first movement of Bach's Concerto number 1 in A minor) any better. And I want, more than anything, to succeed. There must be some justice, some fairness, some order in life. I demand it.
Man I hate these festivals.

secrets

There are secrets I keep from people.
1. My best friend and I still play Pokemon cards. This is always conducted in a shameful manner, but once we get into the game we have fun. People always made fun of Pokemon cards... I did too, in fifth grade... but Olivia and I have discovered they are very fun. Same wiht the Pokemon gameboy games. I think they're the best gameboy games invented.
2. I LOVE video games. I don't have a lot of time to play them, but I am obsessed with them. I had a Nintendo 64 but I sold it to go towards a PlayStation 2, and I also have a Nintendo Gamecube (which I'm pretty sure is headed nowhere). But Final Fantasy, Legend of the Dragoon, Super Mario Sunshine... I spend the summer playing them. And I'm very good at them.
3. I love comic books, the acceptable ones like Calvin and Hobbes (own those), Far Side (ditto), and Foxtrot (ditto), but also the "nonacceptable" ones for my age, like the Justice League, Spiderman, and anything in that nature. Olivia also shares this secret obsession with me. I've decided Olivia and I are best friends because we can share everything with each other. She could get really into Tonka Toys tomorrow, and I would follow. Unfortunately, all of our 5th-grade-boyish behavior stems from Olivia's little brother. Dang him.
These are some just as embarrassing secrets, but not because of age/maturity level:
1. I only figured out exactly what an orgasm was today. I mean I always knew what it was, but I just realized that I've had them before, mostly when reading parts of books/movies I shouldn't be reading or watching, or thinking about something sexual.
2. I'm not turned on at all by kissing. That's self explanatory.
3. I don't dream about kissing or sex. The only dream I've ever had sex in was when I was eight, and it was with a girl. This was totally innocent.
4. I don't really have sexual fantasies either.
I'll be back with more as I have to go to my cello lesson/rehearsal.

I haven't had a real period in months. About once a week I bleed for a day, and then it stops for a week. About four months ago, things were still normal, and predictible, and everything. But then since I've started trying to eat normally they've gotten all messed up. I think I'm going to the doctor. My mother thinks it's from not eating noramally or anything since seventh grade.

Matt's home. School's crazy. I'm taking my medicine, just feeling a little stressed.

okay again...

I'm okay again. Things are so busy. I don't have time to think, feel, or breathe it seems. And eating has somehow messed up my insides, my hormoines or something, after being bulimic for a year. They've gone haywire.
I'm so glad this year is almost over. In movies, they glamourize high school. They make it seem like a nice, entertaining, and exciting place to be. But it's not, not really, it's more about panic and stress and obsession and everyone having sex and smoking pot. It's more like that.
I could be done with high school now, if I'd homeschooled or done some Montessori school. I almost wish I had, but there is no social aspect to homeschool and no Montessori middle/high schools in Helena. Or I could have skipped easy kindergarten and first grade, but as my parents tell me, they didn't want me to, I wasn't emotionally prepared. I guess they're right. If I were in college right now, I'd be an outcast, I think. I wouldn't fit in. And I hardly fit in in my own grade, so imagine how alienated I'd be if I were in college.
Matt gets home tomorrow at 10:00 p.m. I've missed him a ton. I'm going to the airport to meet him. I won't be able to hang out with him next week though because I have so much going on.

Horrible setbacks

I've been so incredibly happy lately, and then two days ago something horrible happened. I can't say what it was, I just want to forget it, never remember. It felt like a nightmare. I was in such disbelief that I didn't understand how it wasn't one, how it could possibly be real. All my self-confidence that I've accumulated was demolished in one blow. I hated myself. I was taking my meds, but I was SO depressed. It's horrible, knowing you're on your own with depression, knowing no medication can fix things.
For two days I've felt so horrible that I must have been in Hell. I felt... major depression, suicidal, guilty, ashamed, self-hating. I thought I was a horrible, disgusting person. I wanted to self injure very badly, but somehow I didn't. I did feel so dirty though that I took a fourty-five minute shower and scrubbed my whole entire body until it was pink and raw. I put on all clean clothes, brushed my teeth, and held a bar of soap in my mouth for two minutes and washed it out with the bitter stuff.
I didn't tell anyone for a long while. Tonight at dinner, as I was emotionally binging on Chinese food, and felt, as I have felt constantly for two days, on the verge of tears. Finally I just cracked and started sobbing and my parents finally got me to tell them what happened, and I'm not all alone anymore, they're helping me. It was horrible telling them though. Maybe not worth it.
It will be a long time before I truly recover from this. I think I'll just have to work on every day trying to love myself again, trying to put this behind me, treat it like the nightmare it is. It'll take a long time. It'll be slow progress. But I have to keep going. I can't get stuck in this rut.

not cheating but still mucky

Florida was nice. We snorkeled, hung out on the beach, shopped, and went to nice restaurants. I actually ate normally, 1200 calories a day, without gaining weight. I guess my metabolism is back in gear. I was severely sunburned, my nose is raw and pink, and I got a perm and was chemically burned by the hydrogen peroxide, leaving a 2nd degree burn on the back of my neck. But my hair is curly and easy to take care of.
It was nice seeing my brother and my sister-in-law. They're very successful. Craig's selling cars, and making a lot of money. The have two new cars, a Pathfinder and a Volvo, and Craig has a Rolex and Oakley sunglasses, and she has expensive purses and such. They're still saving money for college though. She starts this fall, and goes for two years while Craig sells cars, then she works while he gets a degree in psychology and a masters or something in chemical dependency counseling. I think he'll help a lot of people- he's been there, he knows what it's like.
I don't want to go to school tomorrow and think about school and get all stressed again. This was a taste of how wonderful and relaxing summer will be.
Matt is in Ukraine. He emailed me. Apparently he was dancing with some girl and she tried to kiss him. He leaned away. He felt bad about it. He told me it happened. I can't blaim him at all, because he did everything a guy should do in that situation. But I feel a bit mucky about it. I hope that goes away when he gets back. I miss him a lot.
Well, so much for stress-free.... tomorrow I go back to worrying about calculus, my biology semester project, and my music theory quarter project.
I hope I did well on my bio and calc test. I guess I'll find out tomorrow.

SPRING BREAK!!!!!!!!!

AT LAST SPRING BREAK IS HERE!!!! It's been a long three months since Christmas break, and I thought spring break would never come... February and March always move like sludge, but April and May pick up the pace, and then it's summer, glorious, too-short summer!
I drive to Salt Lake City tomorrow and fly to Florida on Sunday, Easter. My parents have been menacingly mentioning that we might all have to switch off driving, but I hate long-distance driving and I get tired really quickly, and it's especially hard when everyone else in the car is asleep, so I think that I will conveniently "accidentally" forget my driver's license tomorrow. Hopefully this is not a sin that requires repenting.
My digital camera, after all this drama, after my parents getting really mad at me for losing it, after me getting really mad at myself for not even remembering where I lost it, after me getting really worried about coming up with the money to replace, after all this drama for months and months, has turned up in my mother's closet. Nobody can remember how it got there. I was too relieved to be very upset about all these months of anger for nothing.
My father brought home PTC paper today, and I couldn't taste it. Neither could either of my parents. I really wanted to be able to taste it, and it's really odd to think that something that tastes just like paper to me could taste incredibly bitter to someone else. Apparently about 7 out of 10 people can taste the bitterness. I'm out of the loop. We couldn't remember if it was dominant or recessive, but we're pretty sure being able to taste it is dominant, which means both my parents and me are homozygous recessive. Sad.
Speaking of biology and such, I think I got over a 100% on my math test yesterday, like 109%-ish. I'm really excited, but the rest of the class apparently is pretty sure they did very badly on it, and is likely to murder me for ruining the curve (again). I don't feel very welcome in my math class. They spent the whole period today yet again trying to convince Mr. George that Nick and I were outliers and should not be figured into the curve. Ah well, whatever. Pretty soon the year will be over.
And it's spring break and my third quarter grades (straight A's) are solidified. Unless I got less than 50% on my biology test today on genetics, but I've gotten an A on every test all year so I don't see how that's possible. I felt pretty confident in it today. But even if I did get a B, I don't really care because I have a good grade in there.
3rd QUARTER GRADES:
1. Calculus- probably about a 97%
2. Gym- 100% (we finally finished my last dancing unit ever today, I was so excited!)
3. English- 101% (Even after the not so good Fahrenheit 451 quiz... I really liked the book, but the quiz was really detailed)
4. Orchestra- A, don't know the percent
5. Biology- 107% (before the test, that probably won't change much if I got an A on the test)
6. Orchestra- A
7. Music theory- 99%-ish.
So I'm doing pretty good. I actually think I might make it, through high school with a 4.0. Valedictorian is a good thing to have on college applications.
So I'm not going to think about school at all this next week. I probably should, because I have a huge semester project for biology I need to think about and a nationalism report and composition due in a few weeks for music theory, but I'm not going to. This is my week to be lazy, this is my preview of summer, and it does NOT involve school or any thoughts about school. I want this week to go really slowly. It probably won't, it'll probably last forever, but that's what I want... slowly, savored.

busy

I can't write much. The reason I haven't written for days is that I've been so busy, with school and symphony and tennis and getting ready for this solo and ensamble festival next month.

Next week is spring break though, and I'm going to Florida. I'm really, really ready for a break. Actually I'm ready for summer, but inconveniently, it's not summer yet.

Matt's going to Ukraine for three weeks. I will miss him a lot.

Still struggling with the eating.

weakness

I used to think I had to be strong. I had to act sane, even when I was psychotic. For a brief six months, I laid my weaknesses open to everyone, and I ruined lives. And so I assumed that weaknesses were not okay.
I didn't go to school this morning because I was so sick with puking and the laxatives that I couldn't leave the bathroom. It was partly laxatives, partly some sort of flu thing, partly exhaustion. The pie I made for pi day (rhubarb, my favorite) sits in the fridge, and I missed math. I'm going to school as soon as one of my parents contacts me (they have the cars), so I'll take it in after school.
But from years of keeping everything inside, trying to convince myself that I had to be strong, I'm not going to do that today. Today I am weak.
I AM WEAK TODAY AND I DON'T CARE. Maybe occasional weaknesses are part of recovery. Right now, I've decided that I can't eat. I just can't. It makes me feel out of control, and when I feel out of control everything falls apart. I feel better now, thinking about control again.

I want someone to hold me, but not like I'm delicate. I'm not. I'm not delicate at all. I may be weak, but I'm not breakable. I want somone to hold me so hard it crushes my ribs and lungs and leaves me as a mass of bloody, pulpy, splintered bone.
No one will of course. No on would dare to care that much about me.

Lack of regret

It wasn't hard like I thought. I was breaking two promises, one to my mother, one to Terry. Accidents happened, but I don't know how this was an accident. It's been a week since I promised Shauna I would make it a week. I made it a week for her.
But I stood on the scale naked and looked in the mirror. I don't know if I looked fat but I didn't look good enough. There didn't seem to be a difference, between those two.
I took the laxatives and I realized then, as I swallowed them, that I'd felt out of control, eating cookies and bites of icecream and weighing .2 of a pound more every day. But with the laxatives, I felt like I was controlling things again. As soon as I swallowed them I felt okay. I felt like... it's hard to describe.
Now I'm listening to Pink Floyd records, "Animals", and it's so sad, and The Rolling Stones and the Beatles and ACDC and Ringo Starr and they were all so stoned and sad.
Wow I think I should have taken my meds this morning but I didn't. I think I should regret the laxatives but I don't. I feel so much better now.

coming back

Tonight I picked up Siobhan and JoAnna and we went to a taco place, and Siobhan ate, and a bunch of guys came, Matt and Amo and Steve and Charlie and some other people, and we all hung out for a while, and then Siobhan and Jo and me went to Starbucks (after a huge argument with Steve about chain corporations and local businesses) where we all used to go six months ago when things were still real.
It's been so long since it was us, Siobhan, Jo, and me, but nothing's changed. We've all changed incredibly, but us, together... we're still the same. Since September and October when we spent nearly every weekend driving around and filming movies at Friendlies, drinking hot chocolate at Perkins and shooting spitwads at Starbucks where we knew the names of hte people that worked there, so much has happened to me. In September and October I was cutting and throwing up and taking laxatives and stuff, but I hadn't lost everything yet. After October, I totally withdrew from all my friends, spent all my time locked in my head except maybe at debate, and was just generally trapped within myself. Only in the past few weeks have I begun to try to reconnect with my friends from six months ago.
I thought maybe they'd be gone. And they've changed this year, sure, but just like last week with Shauna, it doesn't matter that we've changed, we can still sit there and things are the same.
It was such a relief today at Starbucks with Siobhan and Jo, because I realized, there's still room for me in my life. And that was what I was so afraid of, that I had somehow slipped away from everything, that there wasn't room for me anymore in my life. I remember last May, watching my friends and suddenly crying because I knew I wasn't there, I was shut out. But there's room for me again.
In the silence and white from the snow outside the windows at Starbucks, I felt safe, and I knew that it's okay, nothing's changed, we still exist, together. I still have friends, and they're glad I'm back.
Siobhan said she may have to have back surgery and have a metal rod put in her back and be in bed all summer long. She has scoliosis and had a back brace for several years, but apparently it won't be effective now that she's quit growing, but her back is still twisted. And that sucks of course. But I said, "It's okay, we'll still roll you around town, and drive off cliffs and make movies at Friendly's and do puppet shows for you. We'll do what we always do... we'll still have fun." And I looked at JoAnna and at Siobhan, and I knew, we all knew, that we could make it fun, the surgery, the bed-riddance... we could make anything fun as long as we were together.

I'm back in the real world. I didn't think I missed it but I guess I did.

parties

I've been going to a lot of parties lately... but I guess that's what high school is infamous for... except I don't go to parties with drugs or alcohol.
Anyway, Matt's suprise birthday party was last night. As I was getting ready, I glanced in the mirror, and I looked thin. That happens occasionally, when I only briefly see myself. When I look closer, I always look fat again. A part of me wants to believe that the glances are what I really look like, and the other times are what I look like after my mind contorts the image. Most of me is content (although not happy) with just believing I'm fat.
There were a lot of people at the party, maybe 25, and I thought that Matt maybe wouldn't see me in all those people, but he spent most of the night with me. We were standing alone in the dining room, his arms around me and holding me to him, and he said, "I'm so happy right now, I have everything I want." And although I'd been distant, dissociative, for most of the night, at that moment I looked around me at all the people, and the empty pop cans and mountains of chips and Gushers boxes, and I realized I had everything I wanted in the world too, and I realized I was happy.
It's the first time I've been happy with my friends or at a party in... years, I think. And I was surprised. But I realized it is possible, to be whole.
In that moment, in Matt's arms, I felt so safe and I knew that everything was going to be okay, eventually. Maybe the bulimia will never go away, I don't think it's really possible to actually recover from an eating disorder, but I will eventually be stable, in recovery. Maybe I won't ever stop wanting to cut myself, but I will stop actually doing it. I won't hit my kids. I'll take my meds. I will marry someone, maybe someone like Matt, someone who I love and who believes in me like Matt does.
It was crazy really, that I was happy, and that as I drove home Venus and the moon were so bright in the sky. But I know now, it's possible, it's possible for me to be happy, and I'd doubted that possibility until now.
This morning there was six inches of snow outside. I don't know what significance that has, but it felt like it meant something.

brainwash

So we took these "measured progress" tests in school yesterday and today, they're for Bush's no child left behind thing to see if our school gets money or if we're too stupid.
The reading section was really boring, articles about frogs and whatnot, and I decided that if we're going to have to take tests, every sophomore in the nation, they might as well attempt to indoctrinate us with some republican philosophies... that would be exciting, they could try to emply propagand for the Iraq war or brainwashing of some other sort, and actually entertain us as we take these... but no, we get articles on frogs.

attempts to be social

My mom was getting "very concerned" about my anti-socialness, and wanted me to try to integrate myself back into my friend group. They are all still my friends, but I have done a very fine job over the past six months or so at completely shutting myself off from them. So these past few weekends have marked my attempts at returning to the way I was, busy all weekend with my friends.
Last weekend's attempt was obviously failed to an extent, because I was so sad at the party. Last night Shauna came over and we talked about a lot of things, and the two years that passed since she first sat on my bed and now. Remarkably, we can still have the same conversations, which sets her apart from any of my other friends. Altogether, it felt really good talking to her, I always forget how much I miss her when she's gone.
Today I hung out at coffee shops and at Perkins with some random people... Sean, Stevie, Kyrstin, etc. It was fun, I suppose, but I can tell it's going to be hard at first, this social stuff. I remember driving around aimlessly every weekend with Siobhan, Kyrstin, and JoAnna, and I miss it, we had so much fun. So although a part of me is apprehensive, a part of me is excited about trying to struggle back into my old friendships.
I have even rediscovered Sam... I can't believe how much I've missed him as well.
I think my main problem is that my carefree days of parties at my house and pizza and prank phone calls from middle school are over. I feel like I don't even exist as a human being. I feel my body, and see it in a mirror, but secretly I actually believe that I cannot be more than an apparition, I can't possibly be flesh and blood. Too much has happened, too much has changed, for me to have lungs and a beating heart the way that everyone else does. I feel unique, and so far away from them, because they exist, and somehow I don't, not anymore.

Once upon a time

Doesn't it make you sad to know that time passes?
What makes you sad about it? My mom asks. I don't know how to explain. Life. The weather. The hallways full of people.
I imagine that if you levitated one-hundred feet above those hallways they would look like endless rivers of flesh. It might even be beautful, maybe the only way to make that many people beautiful.
I'm in a really weird mood. I don't know. Life is sad. Because there's pain and dying and abuse and all that, but more than that, because people were happy once.
That's the biggest sadness of all.

YAAAAAAAAYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I forgot to share the biggest news of the day- we're getting a tiny Maltese puppy in three weeks after we get back from Florida for spring break!!! I'm really, really, really excited... I've always wanted a small dog. I love our Rottweiler and wouldn't trade her for anything, but honestly our labrador annoys the crap out of me, most of the time I would just like to scream at him until he understands. Well he does understand that's why he annoys me so much... he knows he's disobeying, but he tries to play dumb. URGH!
Anyway, the Maltese will be about 3 and a half pounds FULL GROWN! Isn't that crazy? My lab, Winter, is about 100 pounds! He could like squash our Maltese! But Mom says we'll introduce them slowly. Sandy, our Rottweiler, is really good with small dogs anyway.
What I'm really saying is this is the most exciting thing that's happened since I kissed Matt five times in one day without dissociating!

Jeans

I was at Maurices today, buying jeans because all of mine are way too big for me now, where I always used to go with my mom a few years ago, and the girl there said, "Hey, I remember when you always used to come here with your mom!" and I thought it was so crazy, and nice in a way, that she actually remembered me from two years ago when I had bangs and such. And she asked how old I was and I said 15, 16 in a few months, and she said she was 18, 19 in a few days, and getting married. And I said that was really cool, and she said, take it slow, make sure he buys you a big rock (jokingly), and I stood there for a good ten seconds really confusedly thinking about some big foot-long chunk of granite before the popular culture slang clicked in my mind. That's how dense I am by Wednesday.
The jeans I bought were a size 1, which is crazy. How in the world did I manage to drop that many jean sizes over a year and still look just as fat as always? I don't get it! I'm really frusterated about how what I see in the mirror has never really changed, but people think I have.
I think there's a part of me that's innocent, that thinks stupid things, that doesn't get jokes, and then there's another part of me that's always criticizing. I tend to talk to myself a lot, mostly the critical part talking to the naive part. Maybe this is left over from my multiple personality disorder before it was suppressed again (I'm so looking forward to it reappearing in a few years... not). But I'm definitely extremely weird but I don't care.

why i'm pathetic but okay with it

Two inches away from me there is... his eyes, his face, his mouth. There is his hands on my lips, on my back, there are his words, "you're beautiful, I love you, I love you". And it's hard to believe that I, me paranoid of touch, me, paranoid of sexual abuse, me with my dissociation and my PTSD, had my tongue in his mouth, that I held his hand and was in his arms for hours when I was angry and he was there.
I've always thought this could never happen, it was something I expected only once everything else in my life got fixed, something I never expected in high school, so soon, now. I guess I'm almost sixteen, and everyone else is dating, but it's weird, to imagine me, that there is a boy who will kiss me if I want it, that somebody loves my body in that sort of... sexual way, which I can't imagine.
Wow. I'm still in shock that I've fallen in love somehow after all these years of all this abuse and anger and pain.
That must make me a miracle.

not good enough

My mom told me today that I'm just "not good enough at the piano to get a good score at district festival". Nothing's made me as mad as that made me in quite a while. First of all, I don't think it's ever fair to tell someone they're not good enough, and that something is impossible because of that. I told my mom this, and she said, "Well you've always known me to be honest". Which brings me to my second point: sometimes what you think isn't true, and it's not fair to tell someone it is when it may not be.
I guess the reason all these feelings and tears and anger are welling up inside of me is it's not just about piano, it's about forever. My mom has always supported me, yes, but she's also always been whispering in my ear that I'm not good enough, don't work hard enough, am not smart enough to do great things. And I believed her for so long. All I wanted was to be good enough. Now I know that the things she told me weren't true, and that I always was good enough, as a human being, and in everything that I did. I have not met anyone as hard-working as me.
And despite all of my mother's discouraging words over the years and several emotional breakdowns, I believe that I am capable of absolutely anything if I set my mind to it. I will never be "not good enough". This doesn't exist for me. If I set a goal, I will reach it. I set a goal to be in calculus. Here I am. I set a goal to be happy and love myself. Here I am. And if I work hard enough, I know without a doubt I am very capable of getting a good score at district music festival. I'm sick of my mom's crap. I'm sick of her tearing me down and making me think things are impossible. With that attitude, the attitude that I've already lost even before I've tried, I will never get a high score. Only my mother's words taken to heart can possibly make them true. But I know I'm better than that.
And I'm sick of allowing people to tell me I'm not good enough. I'm not going to allow it anymore. I am good enough for anything.

Infinite sadness

I went to a party today, with a lot of people who I am friends with or have been friends with. I've been feeling weird all day, sentimental, overwhelmed with memories from elementary and middle school. And at this party I was dancing with Shauna and Ellie and Mallory and Matt, and everything just sort of split open. I don't know how else to describe it. I looked around the room, and it was like everything was cut out and pasted in its place in my past, present, and future. Olivia and I used to cut out paper dolls from magazines and line them up in careful rows in her living room. It was kind of like that, except with these memories. The sense of time running in a river ceased to exist as well, and the past and the present and the impossible unknowns of the future all seemed to be happening at once.
Most of all, I felt sad... this sort of infinite sadness that isn't like depression, but more of a hollow, empty ache I have begun to feel constantly when I am with my friends, or driving around town. I look at these buildings, and I remember being in them, all the memories of my life in these buildings. I look at my friends and I remember who we were and I'm sad that we've changed, and I love who we are but I'm sad that we will change and that nothing lasts. I guess I'm greedy or something... I don't want things to change. I want them to stay the way they are so I don't ever have to feel sad remembering them.
I hate this sadness. I get it all the time now. I'm constantly aching. For what, I'm not sure. I feel like I've lost everything, even though I haven't, I've just lost the past, but gained the present. The present seems monochrome in comparison to the past on some days, on others it's the other way around.
I think there's something wrong with me. I'm so weird. I had fun at the party, but I was sad. And afterward Ellie invited me to her house where a bunch of my friends were going but I said no. And last night Shauna invited me over but I said no. Part of it is I want to be alone... part of it is I'm terrified of that hollow sadness.
Even remembering fifth grade, I know I was different than everyone else because I thought about the sadness that I felt, and the way it tied in infinitely with the world.
I can't get this e.e. cummings (the best poet of all time) poem out of my head:
in spite of everything
which breathes and moves,since Doom
(with white longest hands
neatening each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds

-before leaving my room
i turn,and(stooping
through the morning)kiss
this pillow,dear where our heads lived and were.
I think this poem is the only way to express exactly how I'm feeling right now, like doom has come to smooth our minds of the past, and I'm leaving a room, or my town, or my childhood, or something abstract and ungraspable, and all the memories of how we lived and were, how we existed, how we breathed and fought to survive, are so powerful that the only thing that I can experience from them is their collective concentrated sadness.