smileyjess

Star friendship. We were friends and have become estranged. But this was right, and we do not want to conceal and obscure it from ourselves as if we had reason to feel ashamed. We are two ships each of which has its goal and course; our paths may cross and we may celebrate a feast together, as we did—and then the good ships rested so quietly in one harbor and one sunshine that it may have looked as if they had reached their goal and as if they had one goal. But then the almighty force of our tasks drove us apart again into different seas and sunny zones, and perhaps we shall never see one another again,—perhaps we shall meet again but fail to recognize each other: our exposure to different seas and suns has changed us! That we have to become estranged is the law above us: by the same token we should also become more venerable for each other! And thus the memory of our former friendship should become more sacred! There is probably a tremendous but invisible stellar orbit in which our very different ways and goals may be included as small parts of this path,—let us rise up to this thought! But our life is too short and our power of vision too small for us to be more than friends in the sense of this sublime possibility.

i used to never feel anything but anxiety. i feigned happiness, sadness, and everything in between. i practiced smiles in front of the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, staring intently at myself as though absorbed in an on-the-edge-of-your-seat movie. i placed my fingers on my forehead, on my cheeks, on my nose, ears, eyelids, mouth - trying to shape them this way and that into something somewhat acceptable. nothing ever satisfied me, and the fake smiles with soft eyebrows and round face never lasted too long. what was wrong with me? why wasn't i like the other (some rightfully, some not) stuck up private school drug fiends and drama queens and alcoholics and academics and athletes, et al?

my parents, fast like foxes, caught on to my persistent state of desperation at the tender age of 18. you think im exaggerating. fine, judge me, but fuck you. what do you call a girl who breaks down daily, has ridiculously high expectations of herself, only feels validated with someone's, anyone's fingertips locked in hers, thinks her class average to be some sort of actually-mattering numerical score at the game of life, can't stand herself, doesn't actually know herself, falls hopelessly in love at age 15 and never fully recovers from it despite the guy not being worth it, contemplates razors, craves attention, pushes everyone away, cries herself to sleep nightly, invents illnesses, and can't eat in front of other people?

desperate. that's the only word. in so many ways. desperate for any sort of real emotion, save for the self-destroying nervousness that gnaws away from the inside out and manifests itself in raccoon-like eyes, chewed downtothere fingernails, and disgusting protein-less hair.

somehow i meant to get around to talking about how if i only could feel one feeling, i'd want it to be connected. even if it's just one other person. at least i wouldn't feel so alone after everyone else leaves (which they always do).

it's an addiction, just like any other. the more you indulge it, the more it demands to be indulged. you literally develop cravings and cannot focus until you've satisfied them.

the spinning in your head? the waver in your steps? after a couple of hours it went away... or were you just growing used to it?

you get a high from it, unlike any other. and you spend the rest of the time chasing that first one. you used to feel so good afterwards, utterly unstoppable. you emerged like a butterfly from a cocoon. you thought yourself prettier than before, more attractive and easy on the eyes.

a tolerance is developed. you need it more and more. soon you are seeking it six, seven, eight times a day.

when everything else is out of control, it is control.

it's all bullshit. you are not dictating where and when, it is. you can tell yourself beforehand you won't, but you will, and somewhere inside of you, you know this. you feel defenseless against it.

defenseless isn't even the right word. that implies that on some level you are fighting it. how can you fight that which you most desire? no. it demands, and you succumb to it.

not even succumb. you fucking throw yourself at it. just like you've thrown yourself at the feet of everything else in your life. here, please, walk all over me. take advantage of me. tell me what to do, how to act, what to feel, how to hide my intricate inadequacies, sweep them under the rug, the welcome mat. nope, no flaws here! just keep walking!

the illusion of control. it crushes you, suffocates you.

you have no fucking control. it does. irony's such a bitch.

i'm moving to a new domain. i'll probably have it all set up for the new year.

this time around, i'm going to do things a little differently.

you probably don't think i censor myself, but i do. oh, i do. starting in 2007? nope.

it's going to be passworded. and it's not going to be for everyone. if you ask, i'll let you in, but if you're faint of heart, then i suggest you find yourself a more smileyjess.

i can't promise rainbows and butterflies all the time. and i plan on making a habit of posting more often. i'd post every day here if i weren't so terribly afraid of it being available for all the world to see.

madeleine and i were talking last night - it really is just so much easier to sit and type away our thoughts here at the keyboard.

people ask me why bother keeping a blog? well, because sometimes pen and paper just doesn't cut it. i need something a little more real. you reading my words make them real. if i write in my paper journal no one sees them, so they have no real existence. like the tree in the forest thing. if no one reads my writing, is it really writing?

i digress...

so. new domain. yes.

comment if you care to see where i go what i do and how i decide to blog about it. i do respect anonymity, but ill have to ask you to leave your email so i can send you the password, and you can be a cool kid. i promise... i won't let it be a waste of your time.

get ready. and brace yourself.

three.
days.

i'm going to explode be made whole.

we got the house. it's officially official. as of june first, allie, jaime, gabby, and i are the co-rentees of a beautiful little cottage-like home. it is yellow with a balcony on the second floor and a porch on the first. we have wrought iron furniture upon which to sit and take in our surroundings when the weather's nice enough. though it is only in providence, and on a street that i've driven down no less than a million times, it is entirely new to me. it is yellow. like my real home. it has rosebushes and a stone wall. it has hanging plants on the front porch and hardwood floors and walls that we get to paint whatever colours our hearts desire. there is a big bay window that is geometrical and therefore awesome. that's our dining room. we have a dining room. we have a steel door in the back. and brand new locks. we will have curtains instead of window treatments. we will be the proud parents of a beta fish and lots of bonsai plants.

res life can go fuck itself. this could be the best thing that ever happened!

i hate everything.

but i hope you are having a good day.

Who do you carry the torch for, my young man?
Do you believe in anything?
Do you carry it around just to burn things down?

Meet me tonight on the turnpike, my darling,
'Cause we believe in everything.
If we sweat all these debts then we're sure to drown,
So we'll strap ourselves up to this engine now.
With a god who we found laying under the backseat.

What did you learn tonight?
You're shouting so loud you barely enjoy this broken thing.
You're a voice that never sings, is what I say.
You were freezing over hell.
You were bringing on the end, you do so well.
You can only blame yourself, it's what I say.

All that you've taught is to ignore the things I was showing,
And sweep me under the rug.
And beating with a book everyone.,
That book tells you to love.
There is an ember in the heart of the kiln,
And its burning hot with love.
Burning out my sins until there's nothing but dust.
Holding me with care into your cigarette,
'Cause the god I believe in worked on a campaign trail.

What did you learn tonight?
You're shouting so loud you barely enjoy this broken thing.
You're a voice that never sings, is what I say.
You were freezing over hell.
You were bringing on the end, you do so well.
You can only blame yourself, it's what I say.

Who do you carry the torch for, my young man?
Do you believe in anything?
Do you carry it around just to burn things to the ground?

What did you learn tonight?
You're shouting so loud you barely enjoy this broken thing.
You're a voice that never sings, is what I say.
You were freezing over hell.
You were bringing on the end, you do so well.
You can only blame yourself, it's what I say.

Feels like we could escape this.
I might throw it away for fear of the silver sun.
If you try running a maze of your lies,
It's too hard to save, you've thrown out everyone.

i am so sleepy but all i want to do is finish crime and punishment tonight even though it's not due until next thursday.

i'm not sure what this means. but it is an entirely new concept for me. enjoying work to the point where it's not work anymore, but pleasure.

who knows, i'm probably just hyped up on skittles (again) and dostoevsky is probably just a good enough writer that my attention span can be captured for longer than the blink of my overtired eye.

I never even told you that I loved you until you were leaving. Literally, hours – no, minutes! – before you were scheduled to hit the road. We had packed up your car until the doors were about to burst open.- pillows and laptop and t-shirts (so.many.t-shirts!) spilling out onto a highway somewhere far away. I was afraid to let myself love you. After all, I knew you’d leave. Everyone always does. And I was okay with that from the start! I thought because it would end before it ever began then that automatically made it okay to not love.

I tried to show you… that you meant more to me than you could ever possibly realize. Stupid cards covered with my chicken scratch scrawl, poor attempts to say all the right things at all the right times (sorry I’m not too good at that) – I even pretended I didn’t like holding hands, either.

And I love to hold hands. Actually, to have my hand held.

The first time you kissed me in front of other people I thought I was dreaming.

I’d come over after a day that I swore was longer than the average 24 hours, sit on your old faded comforter with my spine against the cold wall, and we’d just sit, not needing words and those were some of my happiest times. I’m only sorry I didn’t realize that sooner.

One night you called and it was really really late (you had a game the next day!) and I remember I was at allie’s working on a ridiculous chem lab and I could sense something was wrong.

You should have just told me then. Not done me any favours. Ended it. I’m a big girl. Then it would have been easier, later. Then I would have realized how lucky I had been and stopped running around like a chicken with my head cut off long enough to stop for just a split second and see what really was most important to me. But I refused to. I told myself instead that nothing was happening, that I could not possibly be loving all this because all this was really nothing at all to begin or end with.

And even though you’re gone and I’m right back where I started, I wouldn’t do anything differently. Because now I know that if I push someone away with all my might, they’ll realize how not worth the fight I am, how they should just give in and go in the opposite direction.

But at least now I also know that if I want someone to hold my hand, I have to hold theirs in return. I can’t pretend I don’t want it. I can’t pretend to not love. I can’t say it’s nothing when it’s something. And instead of worrying so much about when they leave, I have to entertain the thought that maybe – just maybe – I can be the determining factor that makes them maybe kind of sort of want to stick around this time.

I loved you.