This blank notebook page has been staring at me for so long, and I still have nothing to write. I stick my head out of TJ's window, my hand on the door, looking back as we pass the trees and the mountains. The sound of his old Jeep pitters and putters in my ear, but I still can hear the crickets chirping behind it. The moon has illuminated every cloud in the sky with a silver streak, and my mind feels blue. I am aware of the beautiful complexity of my skin, feeling every delicate layer on the other like DaVinci's style of painting. My body is a beautiful wrapping and pulling together of various components, sturdy like the afghan quilt your grandma made you. I wish the dreams would stop of you sometimes. The kisses and crawling of your fingers up my skirt or on my stomach feel too real to be in a dream. Your skin feels just the same when we rub our noses together and your lips just as soft when you kiss my held hand lying in your bed. And when you look at me with your hand stroking my cheek and utter that phrase followed by my name, I believe you. I wake with your taste on my lips and your distant voice fading. I like the way it is now; relaxed, but my future has always scared me, and now it is even more empty than before. I have made some unfortunate realizations, but I am just going to have to live with them. You are my best friend, but I am too scared to talk to you anymore, and when I told you that my friends were all leaving I was reminded of an email you sent me once about her. You needed space from her, but still wanted to listen to her. I felt too close to that email, imagining you writing it to another girl you met somehow like me. I hope that was just fortune telling. I want to be like this, laid back, joking, but not all of the time. I still have my serious face. However, I want this more than anything, and it has always been based around how you feel. I am the ocean, but you are the breeze, and our boat has sails. Quote of the Day: ~"We have a natural right to make use of our pens as of our tongue, at our peril, risk and hazard."~ --Voltaire

My fingers feel hollow and look pretty as I text Ali; 'I don't know, I'm depressed, bipolar, whatever. No big deal, I'm invincible, of course.' But I know she will reply with her dose of healthy reality that I swallow down with a grimace, a feature that helps the mouth to salivate in order to rid itself of the horrid taste. I do this thing where I take huge breaths of air in order to somehow clean the horrible feeling in my gut and chest. It can only cure so much though. I wish it would just get rid of it all together. If it would be so kind as to do so, I would breathe everything away. He was in my first entry, and he will be in this one, he was in my thoughts then and is now. I have more stock in this. More. Stock. There was once a point in time when he and I exchanged emails, about love, it was during the spring, a year ago now. We were talking about love and how he wanted a love that lasts forever, a love that is always there, that will follow him to his grave, and I agreed in a manner that I did too. I secretly wished I could be it for him, and him for me. When I wrote those silly words about love, I wrote them because I thought of loving him as I did it. Maybe I can't do this anymore. I am so confused and frustrated and it is getting too crowded in my head, but my medication keeps me from taking a vacation. Please, please, please let me get what I want. And I thought maybe you had when you got me, but maybe I misinterpreted the whole thing anyway. Maybe you just need what you had before; a friend you fuck. I thought you were real when you told me the one good thing that came from that was that you realized what you wanted was me, but you keep turning around. This dizzy, dancing game is starting to wear me out. I think you are taking advantage of the fact that I will always be here, and that you know that. I wish I could make you feel the way I do right now. Not permanently or actually, just let you walk in my shoes for a while. Maybe it wouldn't even matter. I want to get back to where we were, but how long will it even last? Why am I the only one you have done this to? I feel anger rise in my chest as my heart speeds. Maybe if I was slut who annoyed the fuck out of you or if I started treating you like dirt you would care. This is all wrong. I can't even properly describe how I feel right now, my emotional gas tank is overflowing when I just want to be on E. I want you to fucking love me.. Goodbye. ~no quote.