Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Starting over, or just starting in?

I’m starting off on a new piece of paper so I can wipe clean the memories of yesterday, so I can forget the girl I was, and become the girl that I am, or maybe have always been. I’m never true in these pages, that aren’t even pages, just simply dots and dashes combined to create a much faster, but less true version of my thoughts. Where we end up is somewhere between reality and sadness, but somehow still a step above where we really are. It’s like the words are bleeding so fast that I’m losing my head before the contents have been spilled. It doesn’t even hurt sometimes. It doesn’t sting, or swell, require any stitches, but it sure as hell kills you inside. It kills those places that weren’t so black, dyes them the wrong shade because of misguided intentions and fast-paced decisions. This world is broken, and I have only words bleeding forth much faster than they ever should, the words spewing forth from my mouth tangling and snagging on the shards of a relationship that I’m, for the first time unsure of. How does life take you down such roads? Or is it I that am leading myself to tears?
I also wonder when such talent becomes a bad thing. I’m praised for my mind daily, never on the inside but showered with almost bitter compliments from all those around me. You’re so smart, you’re so reliable, you’re so… different from the rest of us. But am I? I’m the same stupid little girl that wanted happy endings, the same girl that waited 18 years for a man worthy enough to sweep her off her feet. But he’s dropping me, and I wonder if I won’t get carried off beneath the wheels of the carriage that by now should have already turned back into the pumpkin. My dreams are crushing me, or will.
It took me years to steer myself in one direction, and now that I’m a year and half down the path towards something I might really want, it’s killing everything that I thought I would have forever. My goal, to cure the world of it’s misguided intentions of saving itself through means that would never get them to the place they dreamed of. I want to end suicidal behavior, drinking binges, and victims allowing their own abuses. I want to end misguided lives, to cure people of their stupidities almost, but I can’t even see my own. I can’t get past my own, because the ability that enables me to read others, is the same one that keeps me blind from seeing it in myself. I hurt myself every single day. I kill myself inside each day a little more by never being honest, never speaking up, never acknowledging what is happening to me, around me, because of me. It’s always circles, it always was, and I’ll circle back to tell you that it’ll never change.
I am broken, and I do all that is in my power to keep myself that way. I lost a father so drastically that I’ll never recover. It was slow, heartbreaking, and destroyed every chance I had to have a normal relationship in the future. I will always hold on too tight, react too soon, and close up inside every thought that may damage it until I can hold it in no more. That release in the end is wonderful, it’s all out there, and real, like the girl I used to be, but at the same time it’s too much, too soon, too unchecked. I let my brain shutdown for 30 seconds and let it all out, and that’s just it. It’s not me, and it’s definitely not the girl that he fell in love with.
I am a disappointment through and through. I don’t know how to keep a relationship going to save my life, and I may never know. I probably won’t, because the minute that this one ends, as much as I dread the thought that it’s even possible, it will all be over for me. I will prove myself right. Because love doesn’t break the boundaries that so many people believe it does. Love cracks at despair, loss, and change. We can’t control love any easier than we can capture it. It’s alluring, and speaks false promises of a future we’ll never see. It hurts people, and leaves them empty. Maybe in the end we will see that love is what doomed us from the beginning. Love is the real enemy. Love is the war.
But I’ll keep fighting. We’ll all keep fighting. Until there comes a day when the promises stop being whispered, when the twinkles in the eye stop grabbing our attention, when the wits and brains of the boys cease stopping time to show us it may be worth the five seconds to call out his name. The battle will rage on, engulfing generations old and new. It will never end, because love promises to be never-ending. Always and Forever, a contradiction of time and place, of reality. But still my favorite lie.
May he never walk away, or give up on me. I’m still healing, as I see with my knowing eyes that he is too. We’re trying to heal, but the answer lies in letting the other heal it. You must face what makes those tears build, not what sets them finally free.
I don’t really believe in love anymore. When I was little I thought it would cure the world, but after growing out of my na├»ve self, I see that it is the virus. We let it spread until we can’t handle it anymore. Love can’t be all you are, and I think that’s the biggest problem I’m having. I need for love to be everything in my life, and I need for it to never go away. But that’s a silly childish dream that I need to overcome. I need to grow up, if only in that small sense.
So here’s to loving, in moderation. Here’s to living for me, instead of through him. Here’s to life not being so fucked up. And finally here’s to me, because maybe I deserve it.
Tip back the cup of misery, and take a swallow to set you free,
Jenny

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Untitled Poem

The night shrouds my good intentions
With a blanket of navy lace
And my actions are somehow blurred
By the inevitability that it will slip away
I am muted
Fallen silent to the demons of my past
They are back
They are screaming
And I’ll never get away.
But I wonder what will happen
As morning breaks over the horizon
And the rain drives the faint of heart away
Will I be free of my past
Of my mistakes of tainted youth and misguided intentions
And the life I could’ve, would’ve, should’ve
But didn’t want so very long ago.
I wonder if it ever really fades
Because the tattoo burnt across my heart is darkening
It says liar, fake, deceiver
But it’s in a dialect only few recognize
The few that matter
The few that care
The few that branded it there
With the intention of never letting it go.
Their grasp is loosening
After years of holding on with all their might
The world’s spinning, spinning,
Turning over new leaves, new trees,
And even newer breeds of deception
So has my crime dulled with time
With repeated overshadowing of the lower
The lowest of the low
Situated far below me on the ranks of disillusionment
Can I be forgiven in a world of the unforgiving
Or can I be at least, possibly at most, forgotten
The pain will never dull
The screams will never mute
The scars will never fade.
But the guilt, that brick of blame
It can be shrouded by the navy lace
As it rests so peacefully in the night
Awaiting a new day, a new say,
A new version of life,
It teeters on the edge of slipping,
But will never fall, unless pushed.

Tuesday, October 3, 2006

growing up without falling down

I wonder when I'm gonna finally want to grow up.  I'm 19 years old, a sophomore in college on my way to a degree in psychology.  I work at a job I hate, with people that are pretty much going nowhere in life.  I sleep, I party, and every now and then I fall farther in love with a boy that I can't possibly ever live without now.  Sounds normal doesn't it.  My life that is.  I don't know why I feel like I'm going nowhere right now, but I do.  I've lost a lot of friends to distance, and second thoughts.  I don't know who I am anymore.  I can't write, I can't form a thought, or justly represent it to the world.  Who am I if I am not my words?  It's not that I don't have anything to say, it's that I'm so goddamn tired of spewing the same twisted complaints.  I'm sick of whining about my love life and my false friendships and my loneliness.  When will there ever be more?  Is there more, to life, to a world so off kilter?
 So when do we grow out of it?  When do we decide to put pitty highschool dramatics behind us and lead a real adult life?  What does that even mean?
 fuck it this isn't making sense.

Monday, October 2, 2006

Untouchables

The future is something that I can’t quite touch today. I want to reach out and grab it, feel it for bumps and bruises, see myself in that light. Will it be bright, broken, or devoid of all that matters? Will I wake up one of these days in the shoes of the girl that I will one day become? Will I always be this goddamn broken? It’s a failed attempt to question the fates that aren’t listening to my cries. I’m insignificant in the scheme of things, I will prove to be nothing more than my words on this paper. I will cease to be, and nothing will remain, nothing but this. This broken page bleeding an existence that didn’t ever say anything worth reading about. All these questions about love and life and purpose, no one cares. No one should, because they have their own. Everyone wonders if they’ll ever get to that grand place we all believe we’re destined for, that place that we believe we deserve, but what if we don’t? What if we were put here for punishment? Did we do something so long ago as a race that someone decided we needed to pay? Or is that just a human emotion, revenge, justice, peace of mind? I don’t understand where I’m going with this or where I may have already been. It’s all coming out in circles inside squares and I can’t find a corner in which to hide. We aren’t helpless, we’re lost. We aren’t broken, we’re hurting. We aren’t confused, we’re misrepresented. So what’s it all for? Is it worth it anymore? Can you get to a place where the hurt overtakes the possibilities of tomorrow? Tomorrow means nothing. Today means the world to me, but I’m not sure that the world means a goddamn thing anyway. Why do we continue to walk the paths we can’t ever get away from. They’re all the same, they’re all crooked and trapped, and dead-ended. We always end up in a place we don’t want to be. Always. And forever. Broken, but not forgotten. Forgotten, but not disillusioned. We know who we are, we know where we are and where we’ve been, but we don’t care. Tomorrow is what counts. That place we can never get to because it always turns into today and like I said today doesn’t mean a damn thing when we have tomorrow to worry about. Wishes disappear, desires fade away. Love may live on through death, depression, and disgust, but hate breaks boundaries love knows nothing of. Hate breeds a future full of darkness. I guess it’s only fitting that the streetlights burst at the thought. We are seeking the darkness we fear, we are going to a place we never wanted to ever experience. But somehow it’s too alluring to avoid. Truth blossoms in the dark, but lies, they tumble easier than your lifeless clothes onto the floor. You’re rolling around in the sheets of desire again, naked in every sense of the word. Does it feel good? Right? Justified because the lights don’t burn to tell your tale. I feel that too. In the dark I feel free. Freedom born on the wings of the owl that haunts the night. He doesn’t forget though, no one ever forgets. Our actions will follow us until the end of time. What does that say about you? Where will what you are doing tonight, in the dark, take you when you meet your maker? It will take you miles from that place you always assumed you’d make it to. There is no such thing as success or never-ending love. There is no such thing as making it. You will be mediocre for the rest of your life, or you will break yourself so badly on the way to the top that you fall. Flailing slightly trying your hardest to convince the gods that you deserve that pedestal. You’re feet aren’t pretty enough to be eye-level in this image driven society. Get some expensive shoes, paint them up pretty, they’ll never measure up. The mediocre will never lead the world. The world’s going to hell anyway, do you want to look responsible for the final showdown? Because you’ll lose. There are forces in this world that far surpass our own. We will not win, we will kill ourselves. Mass suicide at the hands of a society so driven on surviving that it surrendered its chance of ever succeeding.

Sometimes life hurts and I get away from where I thought I was. I scare myself at times, but I guess that’s expected. I don’t want to be so dark, so depressive, but it’s easier than anything right now. The words are bottled up so tight they might just uncork this bottle, but I’m holding it too tight, trying to guzzle the contents into nothingness. I have no words for you, not anymore. I have no thoughts, not today. Because today doesn’t matter, and tomorrow will never come. Yesterday is all I have, and it’s lost in the tears I’ve cried trying to get it back. If you were ready for the truth I don’t think I could manage to drag it from the trenches of disillusionment. It’s scary, and it hurts far more than any words ever could. My words are all I have, bleeding much more profusely than the cuts I refuse to put in my wrists.
I always wanted to tattoo my thoughts of the world on my wrist, something in words, something particular and somehow astonishing. The only thing I can seem to think of is forever. Not because I believe in it, but because that’s what I think about life. It’s bullshit, we’ll never get it. Call me pessimistic, my dictionary lost that page anyway. I couldn’t stand the look of the word permanent, so I destroyed it.
Take a word of advice from a veteran of misery, don’t listen to a word I have to say.
Shut me up but don’t shut me down,
Jenny

Thursday, June 1, 2006

Unhappiness in a Bottle

The beginning is always the hardest part of anything to write, for me anyway. I always have trouble getting where I’m going, but I always know where I want to end up, so I’m gonna start there. I’m sick and tired of being unhappy. I want to reach that place where everything is going to be okay again. I thought I was there. I thought that I was finally on track, but I’m so far away that I can’t even see the train heading straight for me. I don’t know if I’m crazy, or just horrendously unlucky. I keep getting dealt the hard hand, or maybe I redeal until I get it, I’m not sure. Maybe I want to end up here. In this place where things aren’t okay anymore. Sometimes I really wonder. It’s a draw, I guess. I can either be in this place, willing and able to write every care, fear, and sadness that I can convey, or I can be on the other side of the spectrum. I can be happy, or so close that it doesn’t matter if I’m really there, and I miss my ability to convey how I feel. When I’m in this place I can get it all down on paper, one way or another, but when I’m not it’s just there, and no matter how long I try I can’t show the world how it feels. Because happiness is not something you can write about. You can’t write about being content, whole, in love. Because there aren’t words for that. There are similes, but none quite compare. None will ever come close. So ya, maybe I like the darkness. Maybe I stray to it every time my life starts to get boring. Maybe that’s my disease. What’s my cure?
Some say love can cure you of anything. I was one of those people. I thought that love could move mountains. I was wrong. There are boundaries in even love. There are limits, things that just cannot happen. And that realization really hurt. It hurt knowing that even if you are drowning in love, sometimes it can’t save you. I’m not sure how to even explain what’s going through my head right now. I’m thinking about this too much, that’s what he’d say. He’d say that things will eventually be okay if I just give him his space and his time. What he doesn’t know is that my entire world has been tipped upside down and turned inside out. I don’t know how to function in this backwards place. I don’t know how to be in love anymore, because the way I thought love is isn’t in any way close to the way it really is.
I thought love would save me. I thought that once I fell in love all those holes and all those pains would eventually go away. I thought I’d be whole again with the man of my dreams by my side, but suddenly I’m not enough. He needs his time to enjoy himself away from me, to grow away from me. But what happens when we grow up separately for so long, will we eventually turn into people that aren’t in love anymore? Will we one day look into the other’s eyes and not see the fire, or spark that was there for so long before? I’m just afraid that he’s gonna grow up one day and realize how great he is. He’s gonna realize that he’s an amazing guy, and he’s gonna see that I’m not such an amazing girl. I’m really fucked up. We both know that. And maybe after revealing my whole fucked up self by taking him to the graveyard to meet my dad, he sees that the hole is too deep. He can’t fill it, so he doesn’t want to try anymore.
That’s ridiculous probably. Ridiculous to think that I scared him away after all the times we’ve talked about my father and all the ways that it’s influenced my life. But I wanted him to meet him. That sounds crazy, but I needed to take him there. I needed him to see the final remnants of the man that took the happiness out of my eyes when he left this world. I needed him to see the physical proof of why and how much I was fucked up all those years ago. And I think I scared him a little. He wasn’t ready to be that kind of strong for me. Holding me at night when I have nightmares is one thing, but holding me as I’m sobbing next to my father’s grave is another. I think I thought too much of our relationship.
I wanted it to be perfect, complete, and all-consuming. Because that’s what he is to me. He’s my rock, my best friend, my boyfriend, my true love, my… everything. He’s the one I go to when I’m feeling frustrated, annoyed, alone, hurt, stressed, or even inexplicably happy. He is enough for me. He makes me comfortable. For the first time I can be myself. I can say every stupid blonde thing in front of him and not feel stupid for one second. I can bumble around and get confused when we’re having sex, I can laugh too. I can write in front of him and let him read it. I can do ANYTHING and everything in his presence, I’m that comfortable, but he’s not. And that hurts no matter how normal it is. Why am I suddenly not enough, or really… too much?
I’m thinking about this too much, but lately I feel like I need to hang on really tight. Like I’m gonna lose him at any second. I don’t know why. I’m not psychic or even pretending to think that I am, but for some odd reason I feel like one of these days I’m gonna wake up and he’s not gonna be there, and that scares the shit out of me. I’m not sure what I would do. I can’t lose him. Not now. Not ever.
I wanna grow old with him and have kids, grandkids and eventually great-grandkids. I want to laugh together when we can’t shower ourselves anymore. I want to cook him dinner before he gets home from work every night. I want to live with him in the perfect brick house we always talk about. 3 kids. I want girls, he wants boys, but that’ll work itself out. I want to get a puppy. I want to get a fish, and a cat, and a frog. I want to decorate the house together, and help out with all our chores. I want to walk down the aisle with him waiting, hot as hell in his tuxedo to say I do. I want to write an amazing wedding speech, but chicken out and only read it to him when we’re alone. I want to slow dance with him to our song, if we ever have one. But what if he gets stolen from me? It’s almost as if he’s slowly distancing himself so that when he’s gone for good it’s not such a surprise. I don’t want to lose him, I can’t.
I want him to hold me right now as I start to cry. I want him to walk through that door and tell me that everything is alright and that he’s never going to leave and that I’m exactly the girl that he wants, and will always want. I want him to kiss me softly and show me that he’s not just saying that to silence my tears. I need all that. I need it to be like it used to be, him and me, and no one else. But it’s not. It’s all these other people, and not a single one matters to me but him. I wish he’d wake up and realize that I’m the only one he needs too. But am I? Will I always be?
It’s paralyzing to have to wonder if you’re enough. To wonder if it’ll always be me in his dreams, or if one day there just might be another. He’s the only one I’ll ever yearn for. He’s the only one I’ll ever truly love.
I know sometimes he doubts that fact, thinks that TJ got there first. He never did. I didn’t love TJ. I fell in love with the idea of him more than anything. I wanted to love him, but it was an odd sort of love. The kind that you know is doomed from the beginning. I always had to second guess myself with him, still even today I have to second guess our friendship. He was never enough for me. David’s a different story. He has been since day one. He wanted me, he loved me, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. He put me first, and maybe that’s selfish to want that, but it felt great to be cared for. It feels great. I’m in love, and it hurts a lot of the time recently but I’m still in love. I’d do anything for his kiss, his touch, his smell even. That screams first love, so nothing before this matters, nothing. Even with TJ around, it doesn’t show me what I’m missing out on, it shows me what I wasted my time on. I wasted four years being wrapped up in this kid that’s still as fucked up today as he was then. He’s going nowhere. I needed to wait those four years though, in order for david to come around. I needed to be unattached and wanting when he was ready to knock on my door.
That’s the funny thing about love and timing. It’s always perfect. So maybe I just need to wait. Wait for the moment when everything turns out just the way I wanted it to. It won’t be today, or even tomorrow, but maybe the next day. It still hurts though. I miss him holding me, and hearing his breathing as I go to sleep. I miss having him there when I wake up. Maybe he does too. Maybe it’ll all be okay.
I love you David Jon-Michael Worrell. Don’t ever question that.
Love battered and broken, but still somehow standing,
Jenny

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Teenage Love or the Lack-there-of

I never considered the kind of love that I'm experiencing to be either juvenile, or fleeting. I never saw it as so-called "teenage love" or "highschool romance" because in my mind it was never anything close to that. It was something to joke or play with... ever. It was something that him and I both knew was going to be forever, or for at least such a large amount of time that it replicated the meaning of forever. We spent our days playing out the scenes of romeo and juliet. except we didn't die. and our families never fought. okay not so much romeo and juliet, I guess but you get the idea. We were meant to be. destined. and i believed that. believED. funny how one silly argument changes that. how suddenly your entire world is off kilter and you are forced to question everything you stand for. everything you've fought for. everything you've lost. we'd never fought before this, nothing huge anyway. we'd make up, kiss, and hold eachother before bed. that didn't happen this time. it has yet to happen. so i have to question what we're doing here. is it really just young love? is it the relationship that will eventually get left behind because we've grown so far past it? i hope to god i'm wrong. i hope to god we can overcome this because i don't know how to live without him. i don't want to. but at the same time i dont want to hurt anymore. i don't want to keep getting thrown full force into this depression, but here i am, chin deep and choking. i'm drowning again. who'll save me if he doesnt want to be around anymore.

this wouldn't hurt so much if i didnt have to question our future. but those 3 children, two girls one boy, are fading fast. the house is changing shape, disappearing. there isn't a chocolate lab, or a white picket fence. we're not together. we're not happy. i haven't lived past us either. i'm dead, and buried without him, i wish he'd see that.

i can't lose him.

i can't live without him.

i can't breathe.

my heart would burst if it hadn't already broken.

lovesick in the dieing sort of way,
Jenny

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Final Destination Depression

The doors are all locked and shut tight, the covers drawn, and lights down. The music’s softly playing in the background, but no matter what happens I can’t settle my mind on this particular night. Not that there’s anything outstanding about it really, the same thing has happened on countless other nights. To be honest, the same thing happens every night. I’m never completely settled, the feeling is just magnified because I don’t have those strong protective arms surrounding me, or the calming sound of his breathing. I don’t have his warmth, or his calming presence, and it kind of hurts. It brings the demons in a little deeper knowing that he isn’t there to ward them away. At the same time though, I know that I need this. I need this time to reflect because night after night I’ve been thinking these exact same thoughts. These exact same problems keep wreaking havoc on my mind and on my concentration. They are consuming me as surely as they are completely strange and unknown to me. I mean, I don’t know why I’m thinking the way that I am lately. It’s weird. I’m resigned to that fact though, I know that I’m eccentric, a little out of the ordinary tonight, and it’s okay, because I’m here alone with my thoughts. The music has been silenced, the dryer is filling the void. I can still hear it though, still hear the sounds of the soft singing, if only in my head. It makes me wonder, crazily if maybe I’m hearing it in another somewhere. That probably doesn’t make sense to you, and that’s okay. I’ll explain, just give me time to process what I’m feeling. I think somehow it’s profound, maybe it explains more about me than I ever deemed worthy of figuring out. Final Destination is my favorite movie of all time. Not because of the hot actors sitting center stage in it, but because of a single scene. A scene, that in it’s entirety didn’t change or warp the movie in any way, it didn’t move the plot along, or explain anything that you couldn’t have otherwise figured out. It was just there, waiting to pull me in. I can hear the words in my head of that scene. I think somewhere deep down I know it by heart. Devon Sawa’s character looks at clear and asks her if she thinks that somewhere out there their flight was still flying to Europe, if maybe in some alternate timeline they had made it safely there. He wonders that if this tragedy took place in his time, if maybe somewhere else happier it didn’t. She in return says sure I wish there was that place, a place where her father hadn’t needed cigarettes and had stayed home the night that he left and got killed, a place where her mother didn’t run off and leave her to deal with the aftermath. But they don’t have that place, all they have is the here and now. That scene captured me because that’s the question I had been trying to ask myself since I lost my father. I wanted there to be this place where he didn’t get sick, and he didn’t die and we were all happily living together as one fucked up family. I want that place more than I’ve let myself admit. More than I will ever let anyone know. Anyway I started reading this book called From the Corner of His Eye, and in this book every single person was interconnected and woven together to generate this ultimate goal, that has absolutely nothing to do with what I’m trying to say here. What I want to explain is that in this book there are hundreds of thousands of planes of existence. Every single choice in one’s life branches off. There is a place where my father chose to stay with my mother, but he still got sick and died. There’s a place where he never got a sick, and a place where it was worse. There’s a thousand shades of gray in a thousand different characteristics in each world, but each in turn has it’s tragedies. They are separate, removed, do not effect one another, but they all have their traumas, and their terrifics. The problem with entertaining these ideas, is how much I want to be in another reality, one that parallels my own, but not to the point where I can recognize it. There’s so many variables that you can’t really pinpoint what you want to change you know? What if I had kissed TJ on that grand day that I can’t seem to forget when I ended up at his house in tears and in his bed with him caressing me? Would we have ended up together, or would I be more broken than I am now? What if I hadn’t betrayed Jessi’s trust? Would she still have moved to California? Would I still have David? That’s the ultimate question. If my father was in my life, if TJ was there solely as a friend, if I had never ever gone to the lengths to betray Jessi that I did, would I still have ended up with the love of my life as closely woven into my heart? Maybe in some somewhere. I dunno if it makes it better or worse if it’s possible, but will never amount to happening. Is it comforting to know that that place is there? Would it be better to know that my father could walk me down the aisle at my and David’s wedding in another place, but he can’t here? Maybe I’d miss it more. Maybe I’d be dead today, I don’t really know. Freak car crash with my father at the wheel, possibly. Maybe I never would have gotten close to TJ at all, and he would have killed himself when he had the chance months ago. Every event in my life succumbs to the moment that I lost my father. If I hadn’t lost him I wouldn’t have gained the friends, and love that I have in my life now, but it isn’t a welcomed loss. I will never step back and see it for the greater good that was intended. He didn’t need to be taken. He was the most kind, generous, misunderstood, but still loving man that I ever knew, and he deserved better. He deserved a full life. Maybe he got that. Maybe in the years he had he gained everything that I think isn’t possible in 36 years. But then again maybe he didn’t. I hate the fact that I’ll never know. Unless there’s that somewhere, where all wrongs have been righted and I’m as happy as I can possibly be. I only wish someday to glimpse myself in that kind of glory.
Broken, bleeding into the existence of the what-ifs of my dreams,
Jenny

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Here I go again, off the rocker, off the floor. I'm hurting from these numbing pains, that aren't existant anymore. If I were just a fraction more, deluded, or self involved, maybe I'd have a factory named after me, and the puzzle could be solved. But I'm no inventor, no self-representer, or attention hog. I'm simply me, please no recognition or applause. I'm the leader of the followers, what's the next turn i should take? I'm the ringleader of the disillusioned, what secret entrance must we make? And if there are no answers, or simple solutions, or gradious causes, simply lead us to the dragon's quarters, there will be blood, but no honor or safety clauses. We'll self destruct at any minute, stay clear of the gun. The only thing we were ever taught was stay put, and never run. Run run run away, but never have the nerve to stray. We like to think we're poets, writers, or just creative bets. But we're simply rhyming fools, with tics to keep our imaginations wet. Speaking in the form of multiple personalites always makes me feel less alone, but the only thing I can think to remember are the sins for which i must atone. Stay back, don't worry, I'll get to the end of this sad sob story. the path to this wonderful ending has been under construction for quite some time, there's a detour, but believe it's not worth your time.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Back to the Beginning

So here I am again, or maybe more precisely, here I am back where I always end up. It’s that place that you never quite want to be, but end up there anyway. Every time you get there you recognize it. It has the same signs, the same surroundings, but surprisingly a much different road leading there. It’s always a different path, always different choices and different circumstances, but you always end up in the same place. In the same circle, with the same problems, and the same escapes. Being such a creative person you’d think that I’d be able to write myself out of these kind of holes. You’d think that I’d be able to make different choices, leading to different circumstances, and different roads, and eventually different destinations. But my roads lead in one direction. My roads lead to what I’ve only just realized is what I define as home. Home was always an odd concept to me, anyway. It was never a place, or rather any physical place. It was always a state of mind. It was a group of places, or people, or feelings that coalesced to a single idea that I just knew somehow was home. It was the place I yearned for when I wasn’t there, but hated when I was trapped inside. I missed it, but at the same time I never wanted to miss it, or maybe I realized that in effect I shouldn’t miss it. But I do, even sitting here knee deep in it’s aftermath. I miss it. And in reality all it is, is this place where things cannot possibly ever get worse, and the only thing that can happen is that things start to look up. It’s the tail-end of depression, the last step to recovery, the first step to mental freedom. And every time I’m there I don’t want to take it. I don’t want to walk away from this place, because I know for a fact that no matter what I do, or where I go, or who I meet, or who I fall in love with, or what friends come screaming and running full force back into my life, that I’m going to end up back here. But it’s home, and I’ll always have a special place for it in my heart, and in my soul, but mainly in my mind. I want it back already and I’m still in it. Where I was going with this I have no idea, because all I turned this computer on for was to play pinball, but now sitting here I have about a million things to say. Life has been low lately. I’ve been crying a lot, mainly when I’m alone, but a lot of times when I’m not too. Things between me and David have been strained. He’s pushing away, and I’m clinging on. Not to say I’m clingy, I just hate the fact that no matter what I seem to do I can’t keep that love, or affection between us. I never thought in a million years that he’d get tired of kissing me, and it’s hard for me even to type that because I don’t want it to be true, but then again it’s the truth, and there’s no secrets here. It’s hard to keep up three fourths of the relationship I guess, and I think I’m driving him crazy with it, but I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to be one of those couples that can’t stand to be around each other, or that get into this routine that they can’t break out of. But here we are, living the routine. He goes to work, I go to school, and about every other day I come over to his house to help him clean, sit back, in another room while he bonds with the boys until he’s ready to go to bed. We don’t go out anymore. We don’t have time alone anymore. It feels like I’m losing him slowly. Not that I need his attention and time every second of every day, I just need my time too. And sure we’re together a lot, hell we’re together more than a lot, but it’s never just us, and even if it is just us sitting in his bedroom, it’s not just us because kenny and adam are a couple rooms over and he’ll leave in a second if they call. I don’t know, I guess I feel like I’ve been kinda shifted to the backburner or something. I’m not the number one priority for him anymore, and it’s hard for me process because he’ll always be number one for me. I will blow off my friends, my family, even my schoolwork for him if he calls, but I feel bad and awkward if I ask him to come in 2 minutes early from being with the guys. Like I’m depriving him of his time alone. I shouldn’t have to feel like that. I don’t want to feel like that, but every time I bring it up he needs his alone time, or he can’t be with me 24-7. That’s never what I’m asking for, I just wish he knew that. I wish he knew how much I love him, and how much it hurts me when he pushes me away, or tells me that he doesn’t wanna touch me, or kiss me, or fuck me. It rips me apart when I have to hear that. Am I becoming his routine? Is he sick of the monotony? Does he want to move on but isn’t admitting it? It’s stupid and ridiculous to wonder any of this, to even type it out, but it’s what I think about all the time. He says I’m beautiful and hot and everything he’s ever wanted, but he changes so much, am I still all that? After finding everything out that he has about me does he still think that I’m that perfect girl he was always searching for? Does he think less of me now that he knows without barriers or lies or false personas who I really am? Sometimes I wonder if I haven’t disappointed him. I’m not his perfect little church girl that follows all the rules and does right in the world. Sometimes I have to question if god really even exists. Maybe I only say that because I wanna keep my mind open, I guess what I really wonder is if he really doesn’t exist. I’m a freethinker. I think out of the box. I don’t just go on what I see or hear or taste or smell. I know there is an entire world out there that I will never know about or see, and I know for a fact it’s there. But still I wonder if god exists. With a god out there would the world truly be like it is today? The world has gone to hell, and I honestly don’t think that any god as all-knowing and all-seeing as the one that so many people believe in can actually exist. No god would let some things that happen in this world happen. But then again there’s the other side of the spectrum. Maybe all these things are happening today because not enough people believe in god. Not enough people devote themselves to him, so he doesn’t have as much power as he used to. Either way, he’s not this great all highly being that everyone thinks he is. He’s just like us. He fucks up, he fails. So why worship? This doesn’t really ever bother me, except for when David makes me feel so inadequate for not believing, like I’m missing out or something. I’m not missing out, I’m just sick of being misinformed I guess. Misguided is probably a better word. In the end I guess I have a 50/50 chance. Heaven exists or it doesn’t. I get in or I don’t. There’s no reason to waste my life wondering, or chasing a cause that might not be there. I just wish that david could respect that side of me. The non-religious one. But none of it matters. None of this is leading anywhere or to anything good I guess. I’m just upsetting myself more because I’m realizing what is so wrong in my life and that I have no concrete way of fixing it or bettering anything. Maybe I just need to roll with it. I need to lighten up, and take things as they come. The days are warming up, the skies are getting bluer and brighter and I’m still in my shades of grey, it’s time to change with the seasons. Springtime is my season, my time, my freedom. Open my wings, fly away and take those that believe with me. It’s gonna be a wild ride, or at least an eventful one.

Friday, April 7, 2006

Fuck It

Do you think there's fate? do you think that everything in this fucked up world has it's place and it's reason and it's need to exist? because I think it's utter and complete bullshit. I wasted an entire hour of my life getting on here and typing out every last thing I could remember about my father because I felt like I was losing him, and I get a phone call, and I try to download something on limewire, and I come back to this screen and it's just gone. Tell me this happened for a reason. Tell me that there is a god out there and he saw me truly trying to help myself and get better and he let some freak internet quirk erase it all away. This world is fucked. and I'm fucked up. I need this all down in typing, and I need it to be preserved, so i'm starting over, and I will duplicate every last thing that I remember writing.

I'm standing on the edge of I have no idea where I am, and I'm not sure I want to know. It's this sickening place where I jsut want to jump, but I'm not even sure what I"m jumping too, or maybe away from. It's just the adrenaline, the feeling that nothign can touch followed by a split second of pure pain before it bleeds out of your consciousness and you are left completely and utterly numb. I want to be numb again. And I'm not even sure why. My friends are back and behind me 100%. me and my boyfriend are fantastic, he has his problems, i have mine, but we are not each others problems. we're finally okay. but there are days when i still feel empty deep inside. Days where I know a piece of me is still missing and is never ever coming back.

I should be used to that spot, I should be comfortable knowing that nothing and no amount of healing will fill it. I can visit his grave, and talk about him, and look at pictures of him, but nothing will help. nothing will heal. nothing will change. he is gone. and he's not coming home to me.

the worst part of this entire ordeal is that I can't remember what he smelled like, or what color his eyes were. I don't remember his favorite color, or television show, or even song. I can't remember if his hands were soft or rough or in between. it's slipping through my fingers, and he's slipping through my consciousness. I fear that everyday he is gone I lose a new memory... even if i am trying so desperately to hold on.

I don't want my children to ask me about him 10 years down the road and not have answers to the simplest questions. I can't stand looking in the mirror knowing that I'm leaving him behind, that I have forgotten him. After all, I'm the writer of this family. I am the only one that I know of that takes the time to let everythign that happens to me bleed through my fingertips and onto paper. I should have written it down. But I failed him, and myself when I didn't. I am failing my father by not preserving his memory.

so here's the list... again... in no particular order. Every painstaking detail that is left, because it needs to be remembered, to be written down. he was the greatest man I ever knew and people need to know him. if only through this journal and my head, and my take on who he was.

he made a killer apple pie.

he liked poinsettas on christmas.

he thought he was some kind of photographer, even tho he was horrible at it.

he loved animals.

he grew a pot plant in the hallway bathroom never thinking that us kids would know what it was.

he couldn't type worth a damn.

he wore an army jacket or a flannel jacket 99% of the time that the weather called for it.

his shoes were always untied.

he was only ever at home outdoors.

he was gentle.

he was loving.

he was the richest man, if only in love.

money did not make a difference in his life.

roses were his favorite flower to take care of.

he took us to the park and brought wax paper so we could make the slide extra slick.

he hunted for arrowheads and morrell mushrooms.

he was obsessed with indian life, not only because of his heritage, but because he liked their way of life.

he took a thousand pictures but hardly ever developed the film.

his eyes were brown.

his hair was thick and brown too.

he loved nash bridges adn cheech and chong.

he bought a real live christmas tree every year for christmas before he moved out of my mom's house.

he loved beef jerky.

we made sugar cookies together every year.

he hated cleaning.

he drove a red pick up truck.

he took us to chuckee cheese.

he loved country music

his smile was crooked.

he loved twinkies, and anything else hostess.

he made even the simplest outings fun.

his favorite place to go out and eat was ryan's buffet.

he loved his and everyone else's children.

he built dollhouses.

he wanted to build a canoe.

he was a great fisherman, and taught me everything he knew.

he didn't want me to miss him.

he believed in me.

he never judged.

he had hairy toes, i guess everyone has their flaws.

he used old spice aftershave sometimes.

he bit his nails.

he called me jen jen.

i'll add to the list later, i feel better, but like i said nothign will ever fill this hole. nothing will ever make any of this okay. i don't even know where to go from here, other than bed.

remember forever what you will someday forget,
jenny

Sunday, April 2, 2006

Pain Is Learning

we're drowning in the trenches
we're choking on our indecision
is this pain we're feeling worth it
am i learning from anything at all?

sometimes i wonder if it were only easier
if i could let the currents drag me under
and take me out to the sparkling silver rivers
that lie just past the world i am not.

if pain were the only reminder in a world of chaos to do right by one's self and others, would we even pay attention? is pain anything? can it be nothing?

I sat at my computer earlier today having a virtual conversation with a virtual friend. I call him that simply because that is what he is to me now. He's a bunch of words appearing on a computer screen because he refuses to come to life for me, in every sense of the word. Come to think of it he always did refuse. I'm not sure when he died inside, but the funeral has long since been conducted and I am the sole survivor mourning the loss. There is so much pain inside of him that it radiates from his every touch, look, even typed word. He is, in every essence, pain. It's all he knows. It's all he'll let himself become now. It didn't used to bother me, it didn't used to literally hurt me, but today, for the first time, it did. This got me thinking because the way i have been taught pain is a lesson, something that needs to be learned.

Think about it, we've been taught this way since the very day we were born. When we did something wrong we were slapped on the bottom or wrist. The pain taught us not to act up. Growing out of my toddler days I had quite a large problem with sucking my thumb. One day i was playing and fell and scraped up my entire thumb leaving it bloody and scabbed. Later that same day I stuck my thumb in my mouth because it was my routine and screamed in pain. I never sucked my thumb again. The pain taught me that I shouldn't. Later my mother had a problem with my brother and I jumping on the bed. It didn't matter how many times I was scolded, I didn't listen. Not until I was jumping on the bed and fell off and cut my face up on the window ledge did I learn not to do it. I could go on and on with these examples, the point is that pain is the greatest teacher in a human's life. We don't like to hurt, or should I say, we shouldn't. It teaches us to be careful, to be smart, to do the right thing.

It's not only physical either. The mental pains are probably the worst. The problem is that they can be deceiving as well. Emotional pain cuts to the very heart of everything we are, to be human is to have emotions, and to have those emotions pained is cataclysmic. It alters us, changes us deep inside.

Thursday, March 9, 2006

Its a Good Day to Look Back

Life is an endless string of events, and I guess I always knew that. I knew there would be good days and bad days, happy and sad days, and even just days like this one, days where you can just sit back, talk to old friends, and blast country music so loud while your flying down the express way at 75 miles an hour that you think nothing can touch you. I knew there was randomocity to days, i knew that everyone was different, but when I look back at this journal I don't see that. All I see is pain, and hate, and half-truths because I was so goddamn angry about what was happening to me. It's taken quite a few wakeup calls to realize this, to realize that maybe i was never representing myself with this blog, I was merely creating a world where I was the victim and it was okay for me to say anything i wanted to get back at the people that hurt me, and coincidentally those that love me the most.

I thought that the internet was safe. I knew I was broadcasting my pathetic sense of existance to the world, to countless strangers that I don't know, or even if I did know, wouldn't know me. I never stopped for one second to think that those I loved the most would ever come across my harsh words. I was wrong. Search engines are amazingly accurate, and telling these days. So my best friend, the person that I've probably hurt worst in this world, found my online journal, because it's such a jenny-thing-to-do. It's not even that I care that she read these inner thoughts of mine. I trust her more than anyone in the world, even if we don't talk much, and see each other even less. She was my best friend for years, and that trust will never go away. I just hate that I hurt her with my words. I hate that this place that I thought was so safe, and so harmless, was able to hurt her because of the way I used it. And so I'm attempting to remedy that.

I'm not just going to use this on the bad days anymore, I'm branching out. Today it becomes my outlet for hope, for happiness, and for contempletation. These are my thoughts, these are really me. Ignore what has come before this very entry because starting at 10:16 on March 9, 2006, I'm letting anyone that dares to look see what I'm really about, and who I really am.

I'm in an amazing relationship that is not quite a fairytale, but he makes me happy. We have our fights, hell we're coming out of one right now, but we always make up. I make sure before I lay my head down to sleep at night that we're okay, that I've said "I love you" and that I know, without a doubt, that we will live to see another day. Relationships are hard, but isnt that the point? We have to fight for the things that we really want, we have to battle to be worthy of the rewards. And ya, sometimes it hurts, but the way I see it now, the rest of the time it doesn't. and if I have to live through a couple more arguments or misunderstandings, then it's worth it, if only for one night laying in his safe arms.

Friendships are the same way I think. You have to fight for them, or they don't really mean much at all. I've fought with my best friend, it's true. But ever since the last time we exchanged harsh words I've been fighting FOR her. I want her back, and I'll stop at nothing to get her back. It's not worth the petty highschool drama anymore. We're adults, and we're dealing with love and life and everything else on our own, it's about time we put the team back together and battled it together, cuz I'm losing. Our friendship made me sane, and I fear for myself if these things dont get settled soon. She's traveling the country in less than a month to see us all, and I can't wait another minute. Everything will be okay. It has to be.

I never realized that the path I let myself lead the last few months is what was making me crazy. I thought for the longest time that it was because of my unresolved issues with my dad that I couldn't be fully happy, that I was irritated and felt completely off center. The truth was that I was off center, because I had let myself stray there. I went to college and left all my friends a half an hour behind, and thought it was too far. It's not, and I need them now more than ever. They bring me back to reality and make me see that not only am I being a dumbass, but that life is awesome with them in it. I wish I could see them everyday, and I can't. But I will see them more than once every couple months now too.

I'm not sure what else to say. I'm coming back from the dark place, and I have all the people that I love to thank for that. They've woken me up, and given me reason to open my eyes. I've been depressed, and I need my medication. It doesn't come in pills, or bottles, either. It comes in human form, and they're ready to be filled. Thank god for all these great friends that haven't given up on me in my absence.

i've woken up, and I'm not walking away,
Jenny

Wednesday, March 8, 2006

Nothing left to Argue, Nothing Left to Say


here's to afterhighschool romances being exactly like the ones that we experienced when we were there. Here's to my stupidass believing that love could really save me, and really bring me back to earth. And finally, here's to heartbreak, but never breaking up. It's a toast to being lonely, but somehow still not being alone. And it's a toast to crying and drowning yourself in the tub. I don't know where I'm going, or if my words are taking me there, but all I can say for fucking sure is that I wish to god he'd be walking up those stairs. I'm tired and I'm uneasy, and I feel like I've already lost the race, when the honest truth is that I probably never ever kept up with a single pace. I'm a gimmick, I'm a joke, I'm everything he thought he wanted, but nothing that he chose. I'm his dream girl to a tee, but how the hell does he know what he wants anyway. I'm fucked up, I'm hurting and where is he? I don't have a damn clue. He's as lost to me as I am right now. And the sad part of everything? He's the only one that I have to call. I have not a fucking soul in the world to go to right now other than the person that I all of the sudden feel the need to run away from. That's not even the truth, he was the one that ran away from me.

so run run run away, everything will eventually be okay... but just remember that those you leave behind, they change, they rearrange, and sometimes lose their mind.

i give up i'm not making sense or helping myself in the least with this stupid shit,

klzxdfj

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

boyfriends and boy (space) friends

does life always run in circles... or maybe just spiral? I mean in the last year I have completely changed as a person. I've found love. I've lost friends. I've found out what was truly important to me. I've lived almost on my own. But in the same aspects I've lost myself too. I lost the person I used to be able to be with my friends. I've lost the need to party all the time. I've lost the freedom to flirt, and kiss, and spend every night exactly the way I want to. None of this is bad, I've just learned a new way of life. I've given up things in order to get things, and I'm finally happy... or at least on my way to finding out what that word really means. But now I find myself in the same position I was a year ago, two years ago, hell even three. TJ's in my life again, by my sheer amount of will. I missed him, so I started calling and now I think I'm on my way to having him back. as a friend. as only a friend. and for once that's all i want, that's all I need. I need for him to be just a friend, so that I can once and for all prove to myself that david is the one, that david's the only one I want to be with for the rest of my life. But on the phone today TJ finally admitted to me why he's repeatedly made plans with me, but broken them. He finally realized that he really fucked up in letting me go. He openly said, this is hard for me to say and it's really awkward, but i wish i had done things different with you a long time ago. In not so many specific words I got out of it that he's in love with me, or maybe has realized that at some point he was. which really fuckin sucks because i wasted three years of my life being literally obsessively in love with him, and he never could figure these things out then. So you might wonder what the problem is. I've said time and time again that I'm in love with david, that I'd never screw things up, that he's the one I want to marry... and he is. I have no doubt about that fact. He is and will always be the man that I want to spend my entire life with, every bad and good day of it. But I want my best friend back. Before TJ became a love interest he was my best friend. Even after he was still my best friend because that's how strong it was. Things never would have worked out and he had me guessing too much anyways. I wouldn't wanna jeopardize that friendship now that I look back on it. But now i'm finding out that I'm jeopardizing it anyway. TJ won't hang out with me because he doesn't wanna mess up what me and david have, and he convinced of the fact that he will. He's convinced that something would happen that would hurt me, and he says it's because he wants to protect me because he loves me. I need my best friend though, more than anything right now. I just wish he'd see that. I wish he'd believe me when i said that i'd never let him come between me and david and that david honestly does not care. i wish he'd listen to me like he used to.

best friends and boyfriends never were an easy thing to decide, if only he would listen to me instead of choosing to run and hide.

love, life, friends, and circular amusements never were my thing,
Jen

Thursday, January 26, 2006

I'm just in one of those moods where I feel like I'm going to explode if I don't get my thoughts down in writing, but I have no idea what I want to say. I have all these thoughts just flying in circles in my brain but I can't figure any of them out. I'm going insane. I'm trying to handle too much, but dealing with too little. I wanna be the carefree student, partying it up and livin it down... but here I am partying it down and livin it up. I'm insanely in love, and i should be happy because of that but things are so damn confusing sometimes. David isn't always the boy that I thought he was. He scares me sometimes. He's losing himself in his problems, and I'm trying as hard as I can but with everything I have going I don't know how to help him. He's consumed me, and I'm not sure how I can dig myself out without hurting him. I dont' ever want to lose him. He's the only boy that I can picture myself with 10, 20, 30, 40, even 50 years down the road. I wanna be with him forever, but I don't want him to be the only thing I am. I want to have time for my friends, time for myself, time to just write like I am right now, but with him off work I can't seem to do that. I never thought I'd get sick of him being here everyday, but here I am. and I don't know how to deal with it because it's not just that he comes here, it's that I go to him. He calls and says he's having a bad day and the first thing I want to do is go to him and make him feel better no matter how much money and gas I'm wasting that I don't have in the process. I want to get to him and fix everything. I want to lay next to him and hold him and get up at an ungodly hour just so I can get back to campus in time for my class. I want to ignore all my friends and all the plans that I might have made so that I can just see him, even if it's only for 10 minutes. i don't want to go out there, i don't want to waste money i don't have, i don't want to leave stacie here after she like passed out and has been in the emergency room all day. I don't want to run to him every single time he mentions that he wants to see me, but at the same time it's all i want. I know that how ever many years down the road i won't have most of these friends, and he'll still be there. He'll always be there. But I shouldn't go out there. I shouldn't, but I will. I will, but I shouldn't. It's killing me to think all these things out, to think these thoughts and not tell him, and I will end up telling him. Things have to start to change and they have to start to change now. I don't want to drive out to luna pier only to be sitting at adam's house watching them all get high. I'm not gonna sit there and watch david smoke away his troubles. I'm not going to drive all the way out there just to have sex until we eventually pass out and go to sleep. everyday shouldn't have to be like that. I realize that neither of us has money, but just once I want him o surprise me with an awesomely random and inexpensive treat. I'm sitting here dreaming of the surprises i can bring him tonight... already knowing that I will be there. God... love is so amazingly contradictory.

call, leave a message
the dial tone isn't working
but your voice carries
i'll hear every single word
leave the voicemail unlistened
save it for later review
i'm a thousand miles away, but only ten
and amazingly i can still smell you
you drift to me miraculously
because you're scent is still on my pillow
wash it, rinse it, dry it, repeat
you're still there
mocking my attempts to wash you away
funny how i can't make you disappear
when the last thing you wanted was to stay.

i love that i can still do this, but am i losing steam... have i lost some of my ability because i've fallen in love. is it enough to matter, enough to want back? will i ever know?

Monday, January 9, 2006

falling in love so rapidly and so completely has changed me to an extent that I never really realized anything ever could. It sounds so cliche because so many movies have quoted the exact line I'm about to in about a thousand different ways and in a thousand different situations. Being in love makes me want to do things that I have NEVER wanted to do before. He's made me realize all these dreams that maybe I had, but never knew I had until now. I want to be kissed in the rain, and make love in the sea. I want to lay in his arms and watch the sunset and roll around in the sand. I want to go completely crazy and skinny dip in a pool that we have to break into. Sure movies have given me these dreams too, they've given me the ideas at least, but David... he's given me the desire to actually do them. Nothing scares me when I'm with him. I don't care if I can get caught, or how much trouble I can get into if we do I just want to be with him everywhere. I want to sit on the edge of the roof of a building with our legs dangling off and tell him every single minute detail about myself that he doesn't already know. I want him to know that I had an imaginary friend when I was younger, whose name I can't remember, but that was the same as every single doll I ever owned. I want him to know that I lie a lot, and it's not because it's a compulsive thing, but it's because I get bored. He's just gotten so far inside that I'm not sure what to do or where to go next. Nothing is ever enough, nothing ever will be. I want to take bubble baths with him, and long steamy showers. I wanna make love in a hot tub, and have sex in the forest... and yes I know the difference between making love and having sex. I want to know every inch of him, and I want him to know every inch of me. God I don't even have anymore words to explain the extent of how he's changed me. It's not an obsession either. I mean yes, I love being with him and it literally kills me to be away from him... but it's because of the awesome person he is, and how great he treats me and how perfect we are for each other. I never would have figured that I'd find the love of my life literally living next door to me, but I did. he popped up and completely sent my life into a whirlwind of events that have led me here... to perfect and absolute happiness in love. He loves me, and with every ounce of myself I love him back. I love him so much that being away from him for one night has caused me to do crazy things. Crazy things that I see in sappy love movies that I always make fun of. I'm wearing one of his t-shirts just because it feels like him, and I'm cuddling up with the teddy bear he got me for christmas, and I'm kissing it goodnight because I can't kiss him. I have pictures of us duct-taped to the wall next to my head and I talk to him at least 3 times a day... the last of which last night ended in one of those "no you hang up" conversations that only led my roommate to make fun of me for 10 straight minutes. I couldn't make my smile go away though. I just love him so much that I'm not sure what to do with myself. I can't wait two more days to see him, and I know for sure that he'll be over here way before then because he feels exactly the same way. God I love this.

Hopelessly in love,
Jenny