Recent Journal Entries

  • Finally! The 5 supporter!

    by Bellabel2603 on December 20, 2014

    Goodmorning, well it is here where I am - Good evening I would say to where ever the sky is dark and shiny - like a burning charcoal.

     

    So I receive 1 comment here in SM and its great, amazing I would say. I appreciate even just one person who did enjoy my writing, even tho my english is terrible and here I laugh of joy for the people who support me because you all are a dream saver.

     

    I did say I will start with chapter 1, but I had the feeling that I should continue first part 5 of chapter 2 since I didnt complete it much. So I will post it soon in another entry title "More than - Part 5 of Chapter 2 (continue)"

     

    And so yea, thank you for reading and thank you for supporting me - if you are than thats super awesome.

     

    Bye and much love.



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  • More than - Part 5 of Chapter 2 (Continue)

    by Bellabel2603 on December 20, 2014

    Standing infront of the mirror, I comb my hair – it’s a big mess, I sigh. He hold me from behind and move slowly to hugging me so tightly.

     

    “No matter what you see in the mirror, you will always look like an angel to me.” He whisper to my ears.

     

    Love – this is what I feel being close to him like a promise and certainty that this relationship will last more than forever. How he breathes – soft and patience – yes he is, being patience with everything that has turned this relationship upside down and still is. God, to you I pray, bless our relationship as you’ve lead us to a path where we met and fallen in love, to you we pray.

     

    Looking more to the mirror, his eyes – look how they shine, look how it says a lot even when his mouth is shut close. So deep, so power – it can make you feel the love inside, it’s so clear dear god. I am no angel, thus, look at him – smiling, breathing and those eyes just catch your breath away – I’m a sinner, liar, destroyer and yet he is here closer, an angel he is and that is the truth.

     

    Going down the stair, out the door and into my car, I scroll the window down. Just for a few moments and I be gone to place where suffer, pain awaits me, a place where he’s not there.

     

    “I have to go,”

     

    “Do you have to, you know you can –“

     

    “Stay? You know how much I want to.”

     

    “I do and I understand.”

     

    “This heart beats only for this heart –“ hold his chest, rubbing it with my palm hand, “even if my heart or your heart one day will never beat anymore, I will still be the one who love you and never let you go.”

     

    “And here, I will always wait.”

     

    So he kiss me, rubbing his hands on my cheeks, god if only one knows how to describe the feeling of how love can make just any pain go away easily.

     

    “Don’t forget your medicine, you look more pale every day I see you.”

     

    “I will, always.”

     

    “Yes, more than always for me.” He smile and giggle – like an innocent boy, his laughter play in my ears.

     

    As I slowly reverse my car, our hands still holds – this is what always happens every time. Our hands are like glue together and it won’t melt the glue away – childish as it may sound but that’s the honest truth. Every step we part, its so hard to let go because we don’t want to let go. God, if I can only stay because I would.



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  • who's left and who's leaving?

    by Fallen Leaves on December 20, 2014

    As promised, here is my Wordpress blog: http://prairiereverie.wordpress.com/.   Go for the writing, stay to study my photograph. In a shameless pitch, I will say this: I appreciate that people read any of my writing at all. I am grateful for the friends who don't mind the Word Documents I send them, or the people on here who read semi-regularly, or anyone in between. I am grateful, too, for comments (whether it be on the content of whatever I write or on the style/voice of the writing). I politely remind you that comments and private messages make my damn day.

    And now for regularly scheduled SongMeanings Content: Angsty Journal Entries starring Fallen Leaves.

    I was supposed to drive the 1000km back to the farm today, but I took a nap after signing my apartment lease. I awoke to a missed call from my dad. He asked how the roads were so I told him I was still cozied up in my dorm room. "Fallen, you can't start a ten hour drive at 3pm. That's a lot of night-driving. Stay another day in the city. It's safer. Leave early tomorrow." So that's the plan.

    Anna, some friends and I went to a house party. This guy asked her to come so three of us gals came along to wingman her. The party was so weird. We didn't know anyone. I got ahold of the laptop early on and played the role of YouTube DJ. The other party-goers were not impressed with our rambunctious renditions of 90s nostalgia tracks (TLC, Len, Third Eye Blind), Disney songs (I Won't Say I'm In Love, Under the Sea), or any of the music I actually listen to on a regular basis (Hollerado, Arkells, Tokyo Police Club, Born Ruffians). It was very strange to be playing songs that would usually be a hoot with my boys and have them be poorly received. It made me feel very grateful that my friends are as outlandish as I am.

    We ditched that party to go to one of the dive hipster bars to meet some of my boys (Tyson and Allan). It felt as if it had been months since I had seen either of them. I miss them. A lot. Especially how the three of us would sit at Tyson's house in the summer and practice our Billie Joe Armstrong renditions. Us three, we made a great trio. 

    Tomorrow I drive ten hours straight across a wintry prairie with no winter tires and no company. Don't worry, though - I will have my Death Cab for Cutie and Weakerthans albums cued up in preparation.

    I'm dropping a lot of band names tonight but hey, this is a music website after all. 

    I'm really nervous to be back at the farm, even if it only is for just over a week. It might be incredibly frustrating or it might be rejuvenating. It'll be nice if I can sneak some alone time in the hot tub, listening to music and watching the stars.

    I hope everything's okay on your end.



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  • More than - Part 5 of Chapter 2

    by Bellabel2603 on December 19, 2014

    I know this is suppose to be a journal, but I can write just about anything I want in them, it is mine. Sounds greeded, but I like to share whats in my head and sometimes talking doesn't help much because I can't arrange the sentences properly, mostly and I people always say my english is not that good, especially my grammar. But even the greatest author in the world had help.

     

    A lot of you will wonder, why did I jump to Part 5 of Chapter 2 when I didn't even post Chapter 1? Well just bare with me, if this is really good and you all want me to start from Chapter 1, let me know. Tho, may I just apologize in advance if my spellings is wrong and my grammar or whatever is wrong. Hope you all enjoy.

    ------------------------------------------------

    Chapter 2 (Part 5) - Alone with him

    ------------------------------------------------

    It was quiet outside, the wind blow in like the sound of someone woo-ing, but it's not even night and the light from the sun just peek into the curtains of his window. I can hear him breathing as I lay my head on his chest, I can hear how his blood flow as he takes his breathe and the sound of his heart beats never stop to amaze me. I always have hard times sleeping because I'm traumatize on how one day I might not wake up with him beside me.

     

    Playing with his fingertips, slowly I move my hand toward his cheeks - soft - He woke up as I continue rubbing my hands on his cheeks - slowly & softly - He smiles, he blush everytime I do it to him. His eyes, the way he looks into mine just moves me and freeze me. The only man who I love, who's the only one able to make me feel like I'm filled, complete and love.

     

    As we keep staring in each others eyes, everything seems to disappear like the world was just behind us, leaving only me and him together in this small room.  We begin to hold hands, we begin to wonder, we begin to breathe together and we slowly move to kiss each other. How can one explain how it feels when kissing? Well, how can one explain being kiss by their soulmate? Unexplain and I let it be, we just let the feelings go on as we kiss and hold each other hands.

     

    The phone ring and the sound of the clock begin to be heard, we both know its time to go - go on our separate ways - different path, different directions - back to reality. Even we spend just a few hours together, but it seems like we spend more than months together in this room. This feeling we have, we could not let it go. It really is true love. But then, we have to go. What we hope and wish is to be back together again - only prayers and faith can decide as we already tried and yet we will always try.

     

    "Is it alright my love, to just stay for a few more hours? Make excuse, say anything, say you will stay."

    "I wish I can my heart, but what can I say to them. We will meet again, have faith because I will never stop trying."

    "I will wait." He sheds a tear.

     

    Only god knows the feeling we have for each other - true and pure - yet we are apart. The tear that he shed, will always imprint in my heart and mind as how he said his love, how he touch and kiss my lips. Let me be strong again to carry and move forward with another uncountable few hours, days, weeks, months without seeing him.

    -------------------

    End of part 5



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  • More than - Part 5 of Chapter 2

    by Bellabel2603 on December 19, 2014

    I know this is suppose to be a journal, but I can write just about anything I want in them, it is mine. Sounds greeded, but I like to share whats in my head and sometimes talking doesn't help much because I can't arrange the sentences properly, mostly and I people always say my english is not that good, especially my grammar. But even the greatest author in the world had help.

     

    A lot of you will wonder, why did I jump to Part 5 of Chapter 2 when I didn't even post Chapter 1? Well just bare with me, if this is really good and you all want me to start from Chapter 1, let me know. Tho, may I just apologize in advance if my spellings is wrong and my grammar or whatever is wrong. Hope you all enjoy.

    ------------------------------------------------

    Chapter 2 (Part 5) - Alone with him

    ------------------------------------------------

    It was quiet outside, the wind blow in like the sound of someone woo-ing, but it's not even night and the light from the sun just peek into the curtains of his window. I can hear him breathing as I lay my head on his chest, I can hear how his blood flow as he takes his breathe and the sound of his heart beats never stop to amaze me. I always have hard times sleeping because I'm traumatize on how one day I might not wake up with him beside me.

     

    Playing with his fingertips, slowly I move my hand toward his cheeks - soft - He woke up as I continue rubbing my hands on his cheeks - slowly & softly - He smiles, he blush everytime I do it to him. His eyes, the way he looks into mine just moves me and freeze me. The only man who I love, who's the only one able to make me feel like I'm filled, complete and love.

     

    As we keep staring in each others eyes, everything seems to disappear like the world was just behind us, leaving only me and him together in this small room.  We begin to hold hands, we begin to wonder, we begin to breathe together and we slowly move to kiss each other. How can one explain how it feels when kissing? Well, how can one explain being kiss by their soulmate? Unexplain and I let it be, we just let the feelings go on as we kiss and hold each other hands.

     

    The phone ring and the sound of the clock begin to be heard, we both know its time to go - go on our separate ways - different path, different directions - back to reality. Even we spend just a few hours together, but it seems like we spend more than months together in this room. This feeling we have, we could not let it go. It really is true love. But then, we have to go. What we hope and wish is to be back together again - only prayers and faith can decide as we already tried and yet we will always try.

     

    "Is it alright my love, to just stay for a few more hours? Make excuse, say anything, say you will stay."

    "I wish I can my heart, but what can I say to them. We will meet again, have faith because I will never stop trying."

    "I will wait." He sheds a tear.

     

    Only god knows the feeling we have for each other - true and pure - yet we are apart. The tear that he shed, will always imprint in my heart and mind as how he said his love, how he touch and kiss my lips. Let me be strong again to carry and move forward with another uncountable few hours, days, weeks, months without seeing him.

    -------------------

    End of part 5



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  • december seventeenth.

    by Fallen Leaves on December 18, 2014

    I started a WordPress blog. I am getting into regular writing - writing I want to show people and share with them. I enjoy writing (as you might have guessed) and I'm not half-bad at it. When I'm done the finishing touches, I will even add a link to it for all three of my loyal SM readers. I imagine I will continue to write and post my usual petty blatherings here, but the WordPress will be for flexing my writing muscle more than SM. SM will always be here, trusty and cozy, to publicly post my drunken rants about ex-boyfriends. (Don't worry guys, I won't forget you.)

    If it's any incentive, the WordPress blog includes my name and a photo of me.

    I'm drinking tea out of a custom-made Perks of Being a Wallflower quote, enjoying the scent of a blackberry candle, writing in here, and listening to my Weakerthans & Death Cab playlist. And who said I wasn't doing okay?!

    A friend asked me the other day if I still think about Adam a lot.

    I said yes.

    I think about what he's doing. I think about if he's feeling any better or if he has figured things out. I wonder if he's getting enough sleep or if he is torturing himself with his thoughts until 4am every night. I wonder how bad his sleep disorder is lately. I wonder how he did on his finals. I wonder how much he talks to his ex-girlfriend (the other one, I obviously know he has nothing to do with me). I wonder if he thinks of me or talks of me. Does he get uncomfortable when he accidentally comes across a post of mine on social media? Do songs come on that make him think of me?

    I wonder what I would feel like if we hadn't broken up, and if everything was fine with him. I wonder how his smile would curve as he came to my volleyball game and he realized I can't jump, or how his arm would feel as he slung it across my shoulders to say, "You're really good at x/y/z!" (because of course he couldn't resist being supportive). I wonder if the callouses on his fingers would have learned new songs for me.

    He got his wisdom teeth out today. I bet his ex is floating around to take care of him. I bet he's playing guitar and video games and I promise he remembers to change his gauze on time every single time.

    But that's fine. I mean, I got really drunk on a Tuesday and sang Alanis Morrisette's "You Oughta Know". I dropped more money than I can afford on pizza and booze and a cab ride and hangover brunch. I slept on a couch at a friend's apartment and got high and admired the view of the city from my friend's balcony. You can't say I'm not doing things.

    But you can say I'm being unproductive.



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  • words.

    by Fallen Leaves on December 16, 2014

    I am fascinated by words sometimes. I get them stuck in my mouth like songs gets stuck in your head. Blithe. Wryly. Writhed. They kind of rhyme. There's a slice to them, like the thin blade of a knife gliding along the tip of your tongue. 

    I keep getting ideas stuck in my head, too. I want to write about my outfits, as if that would help explain things to you. I tried before but it didn't satisfy me. There's something to be said with chipped black nail polish and stockings that go just over the knee, with pencil-thin arms and the sleeves that sag off of them. Famished bodies and oversized clothes are in. The red lipstick I leave on the rims of beer cans (as if I could ever be elegant to drink anything higher class) stains my night with some sort of vendetta, a defiance to the heartbreak that I dressed in its Sunday best. Or maybe it's an acknowledgement of heartbreak. I don't know.

    The icy, dry prairie air is splitting the skin on my lips and no amount of chapstick can heal it.

    The other day a strange man who struck up a conversation with me went on an ignorant rant about race, or people, or women. It doesn't matter which. "All those liberal arts kids with their fancy words," he said. "Hey, that's my demographic." "You're smarter than them, though. I could tell just by looking at you. You command respect." Well, thank you, sir. Now if I could go back to dining alone, that would be great. Enjoy your beer, sir. My friendliness has worn out for the day, and I would love to continue staring forward hopelessly and emptily. I appreciate your cooperation.

    My mind has had far too much time to wander lately, and it gets itself into trouble when I allow too much slack on its leash. I cried on my way home from wherever because I couldn't stop thinking about Adam having sex with his ex-girlfriend. The girl before me, the one whose life he is still involved in, the one who sat in the front row at the choir concert was supposed to be at. I wonder if he has even breathed my name aloud in the past month.

    When he was leaving at 4am after date two, I laughed, "Whatever happened to you not looking for anything serious?" He laughed, "I changed my mind. But we should take it slow...." "Alright," I told him, "but as nice as that idea is, I don't think we will." More laughter. "I don't think we will, either."

    Breathy secrets whispered at three in the morning. "You know what I like about you?" he said. "You ask questions. Not just little ones, but big ones. You think about things. You listen." Maybe you should have listened when I said, "I'm scared because this is very real."

    I called my mom and told her I was extending my stay in the city for three or four more days. I just can't do the isolation of the countryside right now. 

     



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  • kenosis

    by CleanLaundry on December 16, 2014

    working on it. doing some final revisions. I was scrolling through documents on my laptop and I get tripped up one titled "for adelle" ... filibustered again. damn you adelle, I wrote that poem for you in spring. Tiny Vessels begins to play sweetly through my brand new earbuds through the scar tissue that were formally known as my auditory nerves and it's so cliche that I just can't. can't delete it.

    my housemate emerged from her room today with two white bandages wrapped around her skinny white wrists. she took a few hits and then made some tea. we all pretended not to notice. I left her a few leaves of my aloe vera plant and an avacado/cheese sandwich. 



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  • california, here we come.

    by Fallen Leaves on December 15, 2014

    I used to watch the OC after school with my brother and sister. Just recently, in my fits of aggravated boredom, I started watching it again. It's funny because when I was 13, someone asked me, "Who would you rather, Seth Cohen or Ryan Atwood?" I couldn't decide. Now I'm a little older and a little wiser, and I assure you, Lance and Adam were lanky, geeky Seth Cohens.

    I remember watching the OC and seeing Mischa Barton play Marissa Cooper. I loved how gaunt she was. She had the perfect protruding collarbones. I started arching my shoulders forward to make my collarbones stand out more because I wanted to look like her. Now I have a horrible hunched posture because of it.

    Mischa Barton is all angles and skin and bones and long, thin arms.



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  • december thirteenth.

    by Fallen Leaves on December 14, 2014

    I am getting increasingly nervous about going back to the farm for Christmas break. Isolation doesn't serve me well when I'm sad. The last thing I need is to be alone with my barbed thoughts. I'm so consumed by things lately that I've barely even had time to miss my family (which I usually do). I keep pushing back the date to drive back.

    I can't put things into sentences today. Words are hard for me right now.

    Today at work, I served a fun table that tipped me thirty percent. My friends came over and we played board games and had a lazy day. We drank rum and went out for midnight pizza. One of the students that lives in my residence asked if I was going out of the city to spend time with my boyfriend for the holidays. "No," I said, "We broke up a while ago." "What? Why?" "I dunno. 'cause he's stupid." "He must be. Look at you. You're so beautiful." Yeah, well, so is everyone. 

    I'm going to fall asleep.



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  • Listen up

    by DeathAngel117 on December 12, 2014

    you can be anything you want, just don't be a fucking bitch



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  • wow 7 years

    by Deodata on December 12, 2014

    after leaving this site for 7 years i now returned to change my password which was modeled after my boring work where i was kicked out a year ago for my pleasure



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  • Enigmatic Love

    by idkadrian on December 11, 2014

    "Enigmatic Love"

    As you are from how you were, or where you used to be
    I see you now just standing there right in front of me
    Tender hands can open up my eyes to the past
    One song seems too long when I want to make it last
    Trade me vultures, I want sculptures sculpted
    I'm no longer open
    Too jaded for loathing
    Seems I'm not as hopeful, but I'm still hoping

    With your enigmatic love
    Would you burrow in my rush?
    Could you leave me just like he's done?
    With your enigmatic love
    Would you stifle all these ruts?
    Can't I get a message sent from above?
    Yeah, sign me up



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  • december tenth.

    by Fallen Leaves on December 11, 2014

    My doctor was really nice when I asked for a referral to a counselor or therapist. She made notes, asking if there was anything in particular I wanted to talk about. "My friend died in August. It was a suicide." She told me she was sorry and talked about ways many people try to remember their loved ones. "Those are good ideas," I said, "but he was from back home. None of my friends here knew him. They wouldn't understand." "Where's home for you, again?" she asked. I told her. "Oh, that is far away. Well, I want you to know that your feelings are normal. It's natural to be unpredictable when you're grieving. Have you tried journaling?" I laughed. "It's kind of my forte."

    I studied for four or five hours. It's possible to learn two months' worth of material and eight hundred years of Christianity in one sitting, it turns out. My eaxm's in seven and a half hours. The biggest struggle will be waking up in time.

    I went to a concert tonight for some indie band my friends are pretty into. I got there before them and was getting a beer from the bar when a man started waving at me. I walked over, puzzled. "I'm sorry. I have no idea who you are." "It's me, Riley! We met last weekend, remember?" I did remember in the end. We talked pretty much all night. 

    We recapped last Friday. I thought I was medium-drunk, the perfect balance of social butterfly and not-embarrassing. As it turns out, I was wrong. Riley told me some of the ridiculous things I said. I was giving demos of how to skate properly, too. Oops.

    I know this is bland writing, boring lists of details. Places you don't know, people you don't know, music you haven't listened to. I'm sorry.

    I had big hopes for tonight for some reason. I wonder if anyone noticed my black fingernails, painted meticulously. Or if they noticed the bergundy tights which matched the bergundy wooly scarf. Or if they noticed my big pearl earrings or thigh-high stockings. Or if they noticed me at all. Riley did, I guess. He asked for my number and I gave it to him. He seems nice.

    I love that my friends are always up for adventures. On the weekend of Adam's choir concert, I forgot to be sad for a while; while he was singing, I was out for Thai food with Bo. Tonight was the night of Adam's acoustic set, and I forgot while I was exuberantly moshing (because sarcastic moshing at a tame indie show is actually quite hilarious). 

    It's just that when the day comes to an end, and all of a sudden it's nearing two am and I'm still wide awake, my guards are weakened. Things filter through my gritted teeth and suddenly I'm clutching my blankets and crying again. Sometimes it's the uncontrollable anger ("What the fuck is your problem, what did I ever do to you besides be kind and give a shit about you"). Sometimes it's the nice memories. Like how I let him read some of my writing, and he asked me so gently, "Who are you? How are you this adorable girl who's kind and interesting, yet you have this unbelievable talent?" 

    I'm going to that place again tonight. I don't know how to turn it off.

    I'd better try to sleep at least a little. I don't want to collapse onto my exam paper. 

    Sigh.

    Sorry, guys.



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  • music+rants

    by aberforth on December 10, 2014

    i'm listening to the Grateful Dead and i just love it. not just the band and the music, but the whole sense that comes with listening to a new album. you don't know what they're going to sing next, and the rythymic guitar strums are so unfamiliar but so familiar at the same time. i like music a lot. i like how i can connect with it. how it seems like the songwriter wrote it about my life  but they dont even know who i am. i find that bizzare and so so cool.

    im so used to things being predictable and unsurprising so something as small and (supposedly) unsignificant as an album makes the world seem like such a wonderful place.

    music also blocks all my thoughts which is quite relieving. im beginning to feel not so good about myself again and it really really sucks. i have this friend who is incredible at everything. she's beautiful, has an amazing voice, smart, and funny. all of our friends adore her so much,but im just there. i know im second best because everyone prefers to talk to her rather than me. but im good at listening and that attracts a lot of people to rant at me. which is alright and everything, but it makes me feel as if i should put people's feelings over mine.

    i thought i got used to being second (or sixth hundredth) best, but it still manages to hurt and pierce the shred of self-appreciation i have.

    the truth is that i have to accept being average. because I am. im not really brilliant at anything, im just okay at them. i wish i had a special talent, like something that i'm brilliant at. like science or math or english or whatever. and i really hate school for making me feel like im incompetant at things compared to other people. 

    i have no sense of self at all. i do not know who i am or what im good at, or what i love and what i dont. i do not know how to support my beliefs and i let people trample over me, but i get up anyways and brush away the dust and dirt, and continue to let those people crumple and crash over me. i am drowning and there is no water.

     



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  • december ninth.

    by Fallen Leaves on December 10, 2014

    I'm moving out of residence into a house or apartment somewhere with a friend from work. We're still working on getting a place, but I will move in at the end of January. I sent bank statements and letters proving I have scholarships within the university to an agency today. I made phone calls. I have a meeting tomorrow with the director of campus housing so I can modify my residence contract to leave three months early.

    I went shopping today with some girlfriends and bought a fancy hat. It makes me feel like Mary Poppins. I was Mary Poppins for Halloween, but nobody ever really saw the costume. Adam wanted to go home after the pre-game, and I wanted to go with him. So we drove forty minutes to his house outside the city at midnight, just for him to drive me back at eight in the morning. All that effort just to share a bed with him.

    The friend I wrote about yesterday, the one who was upset and wouldn't tell me why, opened up a little. I was at the restaurant to eat and hang out tonight, and he came out and apologized for not answering my text messages last night. He hugged me from behind and told me I looked beautiful in my new hat. He's texting me now. He's suicidal. I'm going to try to get him some help somehow. I don't think he's in the place to rely just on my help. I think he needs professional help. He's scaring me.

    My mind started reeling, spastically depicting a future that is very unlikely to occur. I pictured his funeral. I pictured getting the news and feeling like I've failed yet another friend. He would be the third suicide in just under a year. I pictured calling Adam: "Hey. I know things are weird. But I need you now. He killed himself. I just need someone. I know you understand." I guarantee you he would come through for me. On our first date, we talked for hours about people we loved that had died. Of awful suicides we had heard of. He was wearing all black because he came from a funeral that morning. When we went climbing at midnight just off the riverbanks, he threw his expensive dress shoes to the ground and tossed his watch down with it. I laughed out of surprise more than anything.

    I am very afraid of going home now. I don't know what it will be like. But I'm very afraid that it will make all of these feelings so much worse. There's no isolation like a grey house hidden in the trees, deep in the backcountry of a barren prairie. There's no isolation like returning to a place that told you, "Why don't you just leave? Nobody wants you here anyways. We all hate you."

    But then again, there's no place like home.

    Tomorrow I have that doctor's appointment. I really will ask for a referal to a mental health professional. I keep crying and I can't help it. Today I burst into tears as I was putting food in the microwave. I'm going to have to commit my afternoon to studying for my last final, which is on Thursday. Then I'm going to a concert with my friends. Jesse will be there. I don't think he's into me after all. But that's okay. 

    I deleted Adam off of various social media things. I'd rather just pretend he doesn't exist.

    Sometimes I bet it would be nice to pretend that I don't exist, either. But more than anything, it's wonderful to fantastize that I exist and am fulfilled. Someday soon.



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  • december eighth/ninth.

    by Fallen Leaves on December 09, 2014

    Have you ever broken something glass before? A window, a cup, a bowl. The real danger isn't the big part of the glass with its exaggerated jags, but it's the tiny slivers of glass that are too small for you to notice at first. The bits that get swept under the table by accident and come out on the day it's finally warm enough to walk around barefoot. That's what you should really be worried about.

    Little things break my heart every day. One of the cooks at work is a good friend of mine. When I was sad on shift, he made me a giant bowl of ramen soup, wrapped it in a dish towel, and triple-wrapped it with plastic rap. We call it Sadness Ramen. Sometimes, if I'm looking a little under the weather, he will text me hours later to tell me that I looked beautiful. He says he likes my hair bows. Today, that friend was unreachably angry. I don't know why. He was swearing about customers, about our restaurant, about having to find the sour cream. He won't tell me what's wrong.

    Another friend and I went for coffee today and she told me she's breaking up with her boyfriend. They're living together and have been dating for three years. I'm very sure she'll be fine, but he won't. She's making the right decision, even if it is the hard one. I told her that when it happens, I will be completely available to watch movies, or bitch, or take her out to meet boys and have beers. She has a beautiful sunflower tattoo on her teeny, tiny forearm.

    Tonight at work, a group of boys came in. They're regulars who come for beer on study breaks. I mentioned feeling bored without having classes to go to anymore (it's finals week). The one said, "If you're not doing anything tomorrow, then, how about we go see some improv?" There's free improv at a nearby bar. I shrugged. "Alright. If I'm not doing anything."

    It's not always the big things that break our heart. Sometimes it's the tiny slivers of our memories, things the other person might not even remember or know about.

    I wrote in October about a bad dream. I dreamed about my friend who passed away (I've never mentioned him by name before, but his name was - is? - Austen). I dreamed that I was with Austen and I looked him in the eye to say, "Don't do it, Austen. I know what you're thinking. Please, please don't do it." He laughed so easily... he laughed at everything. "What are you talking about, Fallen?" I whispered, "You're planning on killing yourself tomorrow. Don't do it."

    The dream ended with the ghost of him in my bedroom. I was yelling at him, "I can't believe you did this to us. I can't believe you'd be so stupid. Do you know how much I miss you? Did you know they played Kelly fucking Clarkson at your funeral? Are you kidding me?" Pause. "I just want to hug you again." He looked at me sadly and said, "I don't know if I can feel it." But he could. So we laid on my bed and I put my head on his chest. 

    I miss Austen a lot.

    I had this dream around 9am. I woke up, filled with quiet. I got dressed and walked to the science building. I knew Adam would be there waiting for his 10am class. I don't know if I even told him I was coming to see him. I just sort of appeared and pulled up a chair next to him. "Adam. Sad." I put my head on his shoulder and his hand fit around the bend in my knee. 

    It's the little things that break your heart. Recently, I was raking my mind for friends I could call in the midst of thick, thick boredom. I thought, "Oh, Austen!" before I could catch myself. I crawled into bed after that.

    My grandparents called me last night. I haven't heard from them in months. They just wanted to know how I was doing.

    I miss my best friend. Austen, Adam, Lance. Anyone.



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  • yo I'm a phoenix

    by CleanLaundry on December 08, 2014

    I am at a loss. this weekend was a sucker punch to the jaw and now I’m desperately chasing my own silhouette. oh and it’s finals week?

    when I was 16, I had a string of panic attacks and a recurring nightmare about a lion chewing off my hands. my parents sent me to this wacky therapist who told me I had no cognizant sense of self and that that was the root of my disarray. I said but if that isn’t freedom, I didn’t know what was.

    she said yes. and no. lack of personal identity was a dangerous thing indeed. I could slip through the cracks of adolescence. I could be, god forbid, insignificant.

    she asked “who are you?”

    and I responded with “who are you?”

    “no!” she scolded, like I was a disobedient dog. “deflection is a defense method which…” I honestly don’t recall much of the therapy gobbledygook because I was probably zoning out and wondering what it might be like to be a coyote. or if the ocean ever felt lonely. some super zen shit like that. I remember she slid a blank piece of paper to my side of the table and I rejoiced. fuck yes, I specialized in de-blanking pieces of paper. she told me to start with the basics. “who are you?” I ended up writing some stupid story about a llama gifted with a lovely falsetto and how it conquered the Midwest.

    the therapist  read it and tore it in half, and frustration curled between my teeth. it tasted metallic, like blood. she went to her computer and printed out some sort of resume and slid that over to my side of the table. I quickly realized she stole it right from an infamous online dating website. “we’re starting with the basics” she said again. and she waited. I remember thinking it was such a bullshit exercise because everyone always lied on dating resumes anyway.  so I ended up answering as if I was a member of the Glass family. I thought I was being clever, but she didn’t care, she didn’t even notice. in her eyes, she saw that I had overcome a certain aversion, of myself, of talking about myself. even if “myself” was a fictional character I plucked from a book.

     I’m not going to do that now. I’m scared right now, terrified even. my fire’s gone out and I’ve lost my way so I’m falling back to the surefire ashes, the fundamentals. 



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  • Mon Dec 8 8:08PM

    by bcrxing on December 08, 2014

    I can't remember the last time I kissed someone and liked it.

    I can't even remember what kissing even feels like. 



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  • Non-Drunk Rant.

    by Fallen Leaves on December 07, 2014

    I was just picking up my bag after my dodgeball game tonight. I was milling around the bench, talking to one of the guys on my team and checking my phone for the messages I got while playing. I looked up, and who was walking in my general direction but Adam? My dearest, most beloved ex-boyfriend. Neither of us expected to see each other, and we were caught off-guard at the same time. Our eyes met and both of our faces spelled out the exact same feeling: "Oh, shit." I looked away immediately and I think so did he.

    I grabbed my friend by the shirt and said, "Man. Man. Man. Adam's here. Holy fucking shit, Adam's here. Oh my fuck this is so awkward." My friend craned his neck, insisting, "Where? Where? I don't see him. I don't think he's here, Fallen. Where? Which team?" I quickly glanced over my shoulder. "Right there, man. In the black. Yeah. That's his team. That's his fucking ex-girlfriend's team and all of their friends."

    We play in the same dodgeball league (because apparently dodgeball is a thing we had in common) but are in different tiers, so we never share facilities. But hey, this is playoffs. And hey, why wouldn't this happen? Why wouldn't there be a two-second window of opportunity between him coming out of the change room and me still being in the gym, in which the world makes us face each other and feel incredibly uncomfortable?

    If there were tables around, I assure you I would be tossing them on their sides and kicking chairs. That's how fucking angry I feel right now. And I don't even know if that makes sense.



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