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| Happiness feels a lot like sorrow.
Let it be, you can't make it come or go.
But you are gone; not for good, but for now.
Gone for now feels a lot like gone for good.
And suddenly I become a part of your past.
I'm becoming the part that don't last.
I'm losing you and its effortless.
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| During autumn, my mind is crisp and completely awake. The smells are different compared to any other season. One of my closest friends said her memory is overwhelmed when she smells the scent of an old perfume she once used. (For the biological geeks out there, the olfactory sense (smell reception) causes this, since it completely bypasses the thalamus). To put it simply, our memories are directly affected by the things we smell. Perhaps the cold, empty air is what triggers my mind to be so alert. I remember silly things about my past, along with some that puncture my mind. I know I should let go of these strange, painful aspects of my life that have haunted me throughout the years, but something won't let me. These people who intensely affect me are meant to be in my life whether I want them here or not, and whether they want to be here or not.
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| "I left out the complicated stuff, like how it took losing you forever for me to truly find you." - Catch and Release
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| Sometimes I feel one way, then after awhile I feel something completely different. Living on my own is certainly an interesting experience, and I figured it would be. It seems to be changing my perspective on a lot of things, including my thoughts. I feel apathetic towards almost half of my old emotions, and I believe it's making me physically sick. My dreams are normally weird when I'm sick, but the recent ones were completely messed up. Even the way I write is off in some way. I don't miss him as near as much as I once did, and that makes me sad for now. Who knows how I'll feel about him tomorrow.
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| After giving my mother yet another thoughtless excuse for my accidentally missed meal, she leaves my room. Just as I have done in past weeks, I sit at my desk chair and think. I don't even think I'm overweight, but I constantly forget to eat. In any case, just as I begin to head downstairs to scavenge for some food, I receive long, drawn out texts that include complaints about various thing I've done in my past. Of course I've apologized or reconciled before, but this just isn't good enough. It never is. Eventually, the phrase, "If you can handle more, I've never seen it," appears in my inbox. At a loss for words, I begin to merely reply with whatever pops in my head. Shaking from the lack of food, I put this argument on hold and warm up a Patio TV dinner I acquired from the freezer. Not realizing that I took it out of the microwave two minutes too soon, I make my way back upstairs, back to my cell phone, which now has three new messages. I always hated arguments via phone; they're so demeaning. Alas, I hear my father say, "BJ called today, asking if..." By this time, the cold rice and beans crawling down my throat begin to stall, and I can't sit up anymore. My thoughts race from "I wish I was gone," to a giant whiteboard as I lay on my bed. Then it hits me: the only thing I've never been able to handle is when Zach went away for the first time. It somehow gouged my entire being, and ruined any chance I had at happiness. Yet I blame him for nothing. I blame him for nothing at all, and I hate it. But I also love it. As upset as the sender of the text message is, I continue saying whatever comes to mind, which is probably not the greatest idea. Then another thought enters my head: "I should be writing." I grabbed my laptop and logged into Xanga and began typing this. So there you have it, and thank you, Xanga, for letting me dump my thoughts.
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