I've been thinking since I woke up what to write here like it mattered. It doesn't really. I started writing in here because I was lonely and needed somewhere to speak to because my roommate didn't talk. This process now repeats itself regularly. My first thought this morning was to go the honest route: There was a person in my life who is now gone and it wasn't my choosing. My second thought was to go the mean route incase that person decided to read this, which is unlikely: I can't believe he did that, fucking bastard. My third thought was the nice route: I really don't hate you and vaguely understand. My fourth thought was to go explanatory: It wasn't very long, all started in Wales and ended a month after being back and no one really understood it, but it made sense in it's own way I think, even though at the end he said we didn't understand each other. That's what people always say when they end a period of understanding. But now I'm just not sure. I don't feel the worst, but I certainly do not feel good. Walking home I started thinking about poetry and how that's my number one thing, writing. It isn't, but that a lie that I tell myself. I always come back to the end of a poem by Sandra Cisneros, "Once Again I Prove the Theory of Relativity":

Meanwhile
I'll have savored you like an oyster
memorized you
held you under my tongue
learned you by heart
So that when you elave
I'll write poems

There wasn't enough time for memorization, but it's the same theory. Immediately after (being my typical self I was drunk and crying) I wanted to talk to people. I went to Julia's and all these people I wanted near me came out. I guess I still do. I want to talk to my dad. Tell him what's going on with my life. It's kind of dumb, bht that's how it is.


Here is a lovely poem by Sarah Manguso. It's how I feel a lot.

I cannot speak for him, but mostly Julia and I talked about fear, which is for me, but I face them. It terrifies me to have feelings for someone and yet I do it anyway, despite an end date despite the possibility of it being miserable. It's probable I was just wrong. That's usually how it is. I am just the wrong person, but feelings are scary especially when they come fast and overwhelming and include bodies.

This is all I'm going to say right now. Probably in ten minutes I will write more. I am very self aware.