05.02.01
Strumming my pain with his fingers
So. I've been living on a diferent planet these last couple of weeks which is why I haven't updated.And while I don't necessarily feel like I'm back on earth, I decided it was necessary to write at least something.
I haven't been thinking. For a while, Amanda was here and we were getting high and gettting drunk and laughing and talking and I figured that was why. Cause with her I don't have to think. But then she went home and I cleaned my room and bought some new clothes and I'm still not thinking. My brain has shut off for the summer, I gues.
I'm going on a two year long writer's block here, and it bothers me. In the fall I'm supposed to take a writing peotry class and I'm scared. What if I can't write? What if Bartlett says do this by next week and I produce nothing? I don't know.
I want Andrew back. But I don't think it's for the right reasons. I don't know how much I really like him. I could like him, I could be with him. But how long will it really last? Even if it goes as long as the end of August, he's going to Anitgonish and I'm going back to Halifax. I'd be suprised if it lasted that long. Plus the fact that he has a girlfriend right now. Even if everyone else says he doesn't like her very much, or that he's going to break up with her as soon as everyone's home. Well, everyone's home now. Maybe he loves her. Maybe he's going to stay with her.
I have this little problem of not understanding the feelings people feel for one another. I want him, so he should want me. Right? Wrong. She was with him last summer, after Jared died. They've spent a lot of time together. Even if he does break up with her, I don't want to be re-bound. I don't want to be temporary. It's ok if I know someone is temporary for me, but I want to be more than that. Because I am more than that. I just don't know for whom.
So am I lonely? I don't know. I guess. Maybe not. This is just how I feel. I don't think about tomorrow. I don't worry about next year. I'm not sad but I'm never really that happy. Depression? No. But I don't know what it is. This feeling of what I used to think was contentment. But now I wonder. Now that I'm here for the long run, for the next four months, with the biggest break being to Halifax, Windsor or New Brunswick maybe. My friend's call but I have nothing to say. No sincere thoughts to talk about. My marks and what I'll be doing and all the small talk that is so tiring. Especially with the people who care about more than that.
So I talk to my mom, and I work out and I go to the grocery store and the mall and run errands around twon and into the next. And I wait for my dad to get home, and we all eat supper together and say grace together and it's just likke we're a happy family. And I guess we are, but it's just that I feel like I've lost myself. Somewhere along the lines of becoming what people have always said I could be and what they wanted me to become. They tell me I'm pretty and sometimes they even say beautifl. They tell me I'm smart. They tell me good things will come. That I'm still finding myself. And what else could I ask to hear? What else could I want?
Something. You know, that feeling. Excitement in the pit of my stomach. Stimulation from something other than alcohol or drugs or the sex dreams I have on opccasion.
I feel like I wear make-up to cover myself. It's like a disguise I put on so no one can see the real me. I make my eye-lashes monger and my lips shinier and fool all those people who don't care to look any deeper than my face. And I almost hate them for that, but at the same time I enjoy the fact that I have something I'm hiding from them. k.
wunderwuman at