Those emotions in the last post do drift in and out. i can't say they're not there most of the time, even. btu they're not everything. i guess being an impulsive person means being more vulnerable than other people. everything all winds up together sometimes and i don't know how to stop it, how to make this all work. i thought, back when i used to be busy doing thousands of things all at once, that i would like nothing more than to be lazy and carefree and work about three hours a day. but that's not the case at all...i hate being this way, feeling this useless. i hate drifting in and out of joys and sorrows like my feelings are similar to weather. where am i right now? in life, in different aspects of it, where the fuck am i?
i don't know i don't know i don't know i don't know.
but there's something still here isn't there? or i wouldn't be exhausting myself being positive and looking on the bright side, would i? i guess that leads me to the inevitable question that keeps prodding my brain, at work, at the opera, talking with anyone at all, laughing, reading harry potter, going on the elyptical.....
what is it that i am missing that's keeping me here?
i miss the friendship i once had with my close knit group of pals. it's not there anymore, let's not lie. it's gone and i think we all miss it but me most of all, being as everyone's let me have a lot of time to reflect on it. and i have. and still do. and i hate it.....and find it kind of useful, i guess. i guess i more miss feeling like i belonged in a place. like i was a foot attached to an ankle or a rib attached to a spine. not classy or showy or anything worth studying and loving and appreciating, but being there and enjoying myself in the process.
but bekah's always saying that we'll all float on anyway, though....
and yes, it's also true that i miss school. in a way. in some ways, most ways, i'm much happier, and in some ways much less so. i miss interractions with people, and knowing that you would have the opportunity for those interractions once again tomorrow. oh, i'm already sounding like a st mike's alumnus who's going to come talk to the homeroom classes at homecoming week....cringe, cringe.
and yes, it's true too that i miss him. ridiculous, isn't it? a year of long distance, a life time of waiting for just one person to love me like this and look what happens when he leaves the country (with a drunken giant man, nonetheless!). i know i'm jumping to these conclusions. but i feel like he might be lost. or i might be. or he might just have fucked up. and i'd at least like to know it for certain before i go throw everything away on some stupid careless fleeting decision. i hate this anxiety inside, this tiny seed of a hurt stomache and worried forhead line.
but life goes on, much more slowly than i want it to, but it goes on all the same. with some happiness-- my first club on wenesday night, opera kids, a scavenger hunt, ainadamar, finally seeing what the bleep dow we know, my birthday......and some discoveries-- last nights fumblings, loneliness, kate's yurt....and some nervous breakdowns....oh, let's not list those for now.
i just want to be at school, learning what i need to learn and figuring all my shit out. is that really such a lofty goal?

A preview post. a post that says no. a post that says now. a post that say ow. yes, i suppose that's true. i do hurt a lot. loneliness is a terrible thing to feel. it is a more terrible thing to feel when one is truly alone. yes, i have been sad before. thousands of times. yes, i have been lonely. but now i am alone, more lonely than i think i have ever been. i struggle, i look around and i see ways to kill myself. i see ways to hurt and ways to heal but it seems i'm only capable of one of them and i want so desparately to die sometimes, to finally let the alone-ness sink into my pours until there is nothing less than silence. (or is it nothing more?) i don't want to be in trouble. i barely breathe sometimes. and why am i being so dramatic? this is no cry for help-- i know i'd never be brave enough to kill myself....to do what she did. why do i still think about her so much? i don't know. i didn't even know the girl but i can't stop. it's some compulsion from all the ugly spots inside of me. i hate it. i don't know why i am doing this. i meant to post so many times in the past few months....about sarah, kyle, jenine, the senior retreat, my last day of school, graduation, and all the stuff that's happened since....but i didn't. if all the things that mattered in my life were crystal balls they would have broken. smashed, a guilty child's face: i'm sorry. and look at me, apologizing for myself again. sometimes i'm told not to do that. where did you go miss emily pepin? the girl who shows her stomache in public and kisses her boyfriend on the cheek and never has enough time to fit in all the people and joys and fleeting moments of er life? where did she go? i have never been so angry at anyone as i am at myself right now for taking that person away. i turn eighteen on saturday, and how will i feel then? who knows. thie sillyness has got to stop. these ridiculous mood swings seem to be something more than a passing fad these days. where did it all come from? i call here crying hysterically on a saturday night, i find myself fantasizing about cutting into my own skin. just to see it bleed. i think i've been this way for a long time and not known it. or just been top distracted to confront it. the life and death drives. the pulsing feeling. screeching tires. brakes and breaks. hurts. distractions, road blocks. friends....the Boyfriend. the Sister. the Parents. the School. the Loss. the Job. the Questions. the Turning Points. the Pathetic. all of it draining out of me and i only wish that i could die heroically but there is nothing heroic about wanting to die. so there that is. i don't know how i got this way or even how i will get away from being this way. i'm just tired of losing people and i'm tired of seeing everything the way i see it. i was supposed to go sky diving on my birthday, and i thought it was some sort of fantastic greeting of a new identity.....but now i can't do it. the tandem guy pulled a groin. how hilarious and ironic is that? i wanted to jump out and fall to the ground as a new person, delivered not by a stork but by a parachute, but still innocent and ready with babyeyesopenandeager to see the world. if i could only have frozen moments in time. if only reading could help this go away. and look at me, i have no real problems. i hate it when people try to tell everyone how hard their life is, how much they struggle, how they're someone who knows real pain. i am saying it now if anyone ever ever ever will read this, if anyone will read it before i change my mind, i don't know what real pain is. no, no no. i don't know much of anything at all, and i think that's the problem. don't pity me. if anything, be disgusted. i know i am. maybe there is something chemical within the human being that makes one person understand someone while the next person might not. i don't know. i only know that i am so so sorry for everything i've done wrong to anyone.....friends, lovers, acquaintences, that girl at backroad pizza, my family, anyone.....i just want to make things right but i don't know how and i don't know what keeps me from breathing without a heavyheavyheavyness. so many things are so incredibly beautiful in this world, today my sister and my father and i hiked fourteen miles and how lucky are we, to be able to stare at our limbs in wonder at how they function, and then look out at new mexico with an equally enchanting wonder? why isn't it enough? you stupid ridiculous girl, why isn't it enough? someone should shake you so hard until you understand how lucky you are. i do understand, but it's not right.....you said you would always be with me but you're not and i hate you and i hate me and what's left if you can't stop being angry with everything you've ever done and havent' done? what is it that pablo said in the alchemist? oh i can't remember, i didn't even like that book. i haven't written anything in so long, i would not even know where to begin. i guess this is a start. but don't worry, it won't all be in my blog. ick. i'm not that self serving and pompous. not yet.

Here is this blank page on this blank computer screen: clear, fresh, white.
ready for me to dispel something.
but what?

here is me, thinking. wearing shorts that have the word "gryphons" sprawled upon the back and with my feet crossed under myself. not going to school, resting from the weekend.
what will i say?

yesterday was my very last performance with moving people dance theatre. it was the very last time i went into the james a, chai and yogurt in toe, careful not to walk on the marley for fear of santiago the stage manager yelling at me. the last time we took warm up staring out at the vast seats, the red light, the sound booth, the catwalk. how strange.

i finally got to lead the circle before the show. i had a solo. i should feel complete. i did what i wanted to do. then where does this empty feeling come from?

i have so much left to learn from life, from that company, from santa fe, from st mikes, from my fellow dancers and classmates. i am not ready to go yet. i haven't learned enough, i'm not done with this place. or at least, i don't want to be. the blatant fact is, i never have to step foot in that waterlogged studio on airport road again if i don't want to. all my commitments with moving people are over. i'm done. they don't need me to be commited anymore. they don't need me at all. maybe they never did. but i'm not done. at least, i don't want to be. why was it decided that four years was enough? and why am i fighting against something with every part of my being when it can't be changed?

i have about twenty days of school left. i have a portfolio to work on RIGHT NOW. i have a stock and a career project. i have two novels to read. i can't do this anymore. i'm done with this shit too.

this fall i will be attending the johnston center for integrative studies at the university of redlands. i will be mediocre. i will be not where i wanted to go. i will be in california about three hundred miles south of the place i thought was utopia, and even farther from the super lesbian school where i've wanted to go since i was a sophmore. their mascot is on my butt. but i am not going there. i am going no where impressive. i am going to a tiny school with little recognition. a good school, a strong school. a school with a lot to offer.
but i still don't want to go.

i guess that's about it-- school, dance, college. working at cold stone again! yippee! i never want to wear kahkis again. i might throw up in protest if i have to.

How much i love you

how much i love you- enough to ask you, to really want you to tell me. about anything you'd like to tell me at all, and some thigns that you don't. because that's how much i love you. because someitmes love isn't letting everyone know that everything's ok. sometimes it's admitting that it's not. sometimes love is pouring yourself out a bit, letting yourself fall into someone else and having them see your grief before it melts you, and also letting someone else's hurt come into you, and keeping it safe for them. sometimes love is letting go of it just enough to hear someone else tell you how ok you're going to be, even if you're a mess right now.

you will tell me about the school that doesn't quite fit, the classes that do, the hurts that haven't gone away and the friends that you have missed. the stress from however many credit hours. the long nights and the longer days, the exhaustion you feel right now deep within your body, inside your bones and your fascia and your muscles. you will let it all pour onto me and you can let go and i will hold it for you. i will hold you so that you have the strength to lean against me.

and how much i love you is this-- i will take you into my arms and cry onto your chest, i will let you breathe into my hair while i let those tears that have yet to fall bleed all over onto you. the tears for ayla, for lost friendship, for johnny, for the wake last night, for all the pain sarah is and will be in, for the lost sense of confusion we both have right now, for layla, for losses and gains, for everything to be regretted and all the fears that are yet to come. i will let it sink into you, and you love me enough to put each one of these special things in a safe place for me, lock them away in stored compartments inside yourself, saving them for me until I ask you for them, sometime later, and you will take them out and show them to me, remind me of where i was. and that is how much i love you. i will trust you with safety compartment items. i will let my grief pour into you from me and let you feel it in yourself and tuck it away for me. sharing one's sadness. that's how much i love you.

How much i love you

how much i love you- enough to ask you, to really want you to tell me. about anything you'd like to tell me at all, and some thigns that you don't. because that's how much i love you. because someitmes love isn't letting everyone know that everything's ok. sometimes it's admitting that it's not. sometimes love is pouring yourself out a bit, letting yourself fall into someone else and having them see your grief before it melts you, and also letting someone else's hurt come into you, and keeping it safe for them. sometimes love is letting go of it just enough to hear someone else tell you how ok you're going to be, even if you're a mess right now.

you will tell me about the school that doesn't quite fit, the classes that do, the hurts that haven't gone away and the friends that you have missed. the stress from however many credit hours. the long nights and the longer days, the exhaustion you feel right now deep within your body, inside your bones and your fascia and your muscles. you will let it all pour onto me and you can let go and i will hold it for you. i will hold you so that you have the strength to lean against me.

and how much i love you is this-- i will take you into my arms and cry onto your chest, i will let you breathe into my hair while i let those tears that have yet to fall bleed all over onto you. the tears for ayla, for lost friendship, for johnny, for the wake last night, for all the pain sarah is and will be in, for the lost sense of confusion we both have right now, for layla, for losses and gains, for everything to be regretted and all the fears that are yet to come. i will let it sink into you, and you love me enough to put each one of these special things in a safe place for me, lock them away in stored compartments inside yourself, saving them for me until I ask you for them, sometime later, and you will take them out and show them to me, remind me of where i was. and that is how much i love you. i will trust you with safety compartment items. i will let my grief pour into you from me and let you feel it in yourself and tuck it away for me. sharing one's sadness. that's how much i love you.

oh i just wrote some shitty emo poetry. i also finished my research paper! hizzah! happy birthday to lisa, i'll try to post something cheery for you next time dynamat #1

"I sounded like something not of this world"

grief screams with the desperate
and quiets itself with the horrified moans
while she could only shriek in desperation
sounding like something
Not of this world.

she sobbed into the inner reaches of herself
screaming, waiting for something
watching the world go past, because it still Believed
that nothing
Had changed.

she was stuck
in the darkest places
breathing heavy, gasping for air
dreaming of something else.....
but too afraid to turn around
death pouring in easy through the window
flowing in just to mock her
making her realize that it was
True.

she couldn't breathe but for the sound
of another ring
on the telephone.
and the air was sliced
with the pale cool steps
sleek lines across a splotchy face
mourning has nothing, it is nothing,
nothing to understand.

it holds nothing for her
nothing for them
it is the end of an embankment
she still wishes not to climb up upon.

God hasn't been listening.

God hasn't been listening to sarah crying, laughing, grieving, writing, trying to figure it out, living her life.
god hasn't been listening to dorks at camp, the band they made when david died.
god hasn't been listening to me when i told him/it/her to watch out for everyone i love.
god hasn't been listening to the anguished cries uttered at david's and angelica's funerals.
god hasn't been listening to the hurts, the gasps of pain, anything.
god hasn't been listening to the memories, the wishes, the laughs that they still let themselves laugh even after DAC died.

why?

in sunday school they tell us that You want to hear what we say but i don't believe in you anymore. those kids are good kids. you want them to fucking be like all those callous fucking adults who never really love anyone? you want them to turn into cold hard fucking people like the rest of the world? fuck that. why do you want them to be like that? they're good people, and you just didn't think it was enough to have angelica die and then to have david die? you thought you would kill johnny so that tim brown would be left alone in this world without his two best friends?
you thought my sister could do this, and, just because she was stronger than most people, you should put her through it? that's not how things are.or at least not how they should be. fuck you. how could you do this to her, to them? to sarah mana sean tina (tina whose mother IS DEAD) tim john brown nikki shakira adam kevin HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU DO THIS? HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?

i know. it's because you weren't listening. he went skiing every sunday. he knew how. you could have stopped it. you could have given him a second chance. i can't believe you god. i don't believe you. i don't believe in you. i hate you. you weren't listening. what stops all those good fucking beautiful wonderful people from being assholes and complete angry ass fucked up people now? they could have survived other things. but this? how could you do this?

i've never buried a friend. i've never felt that pain. if i were sarah archibald, i would have broken in two the moment i heard the news. i would not have gone on, i would have gone catatonic. there is only so much such a tiny person can endure. and she's still fucking here. she's still letting herself cry and feel it. HOW CAN SHE DOE THAT?

the same with my sister, being alone. how can she still muster the courage to talk to others, to work and write and function? i would have collapsed and swallowed myself in misery and never ever come out of it.

the viewing of jonathan's body (yes, his BODY. not him, a shell, a body, a lifeless thing that was left when he was killed. his body...he was twenty years old.) was today. sean got sick. his body went into shock when he saw him-- he couldn't feel his arms and his tongue went numb and his fingers wouldn't bend anymore. he threw up until he collapsed, semi-concious, onto adam's couch. i can understand what he was telling me today. when sarah told me i wanted to get sick, i almost threw up at dance. how something this sick happen? but all of them are closer to him, were closer to him, than i am (was). eons closer.

yesterday at the brown house i was an intruder on their grief. i didn't know all of them well enough to be there, holding a crying sarita and nikki and sean. i didn't know anything enough to be there, about two years ago, about the phone calls.....i barged in wanting to find someone who shared in it. i'm sorry for that.

i am so scared for my sister right now. she's so far from home, from everyone who would even remotely understand. i need her to be here. i need her to be ok. i'll let her be scared and upset and angry as long as she'll do it with me.

god hasn't been listening. but then again, maybe he/she/it never was.

DAC

I used to pronounce your last name Calla-low-clogg, and me and my sister would laugh. I don't know why we thought it was so funny, but we did. I liked you, better than I liked Sarah's other guy friends-- Tim, JB, Phil. I liked you because she mattered to you, and you were sweet to her. And I liked that you were obsessed with duct tape. I wish I could have known you better. but now you're gone. Do you have any idea how many people cried for you that day, two years ago? How many people were shocked? how could someone like you die? one of the good ones.....
I remember seeing Sarah the next day-- fragile, broken, exhausted. She looked crumpled; she didn't sleep. do you have any idea how she dealt with it? i still don't know. i'm ashamed now-- at the time i wasn't there for her, swept up in my own ridiculous high school dramas. I wish I could have been with her more. i wish i could have helped her. i wish i had gotten to share in her pain.
I went to graduation that year and saw your mom, after seeing your dad at the CAPA banquet. I thought she was amazing-- she looked so strong. Your parents must have been proud of you. I know that the rest of them were.
Now I go through the tragedies of my every day life, and i don't think about you, not like she does-- but sometimes i think about how people like you die, and how you would have taken advantage of, you would have enjoyed the time spent, at our house, at mana's mom's....sometimes i think that eighteen is too young and that it's too unfair and sarah shouldn't have had to deal with it and you shouldn't have had to leave so soon.
i hope you are resting in peace.