Man, what a trip. I've been cleaning my room lately - too much accumulation. There's this box I've had since middle school with random things in in. Old school pictures, notes and things I cut out of books that were little secret jokes between me and girlfriends. Anyway, I came across all these letters from an exboyfriend I dated my junior year in high school. Some of them are funny, he'd draw all these random things and weird people, he talked with jargon I didn't use and I still think it's weird. When we were dating I thought it was because he came from California, but now I think it was just a mixture of him and the fact that he did acid. Well, I found these letters and decided to read them. There are three that I want to keep just because they still make me laugh. Then there are others that make me feel so strange, because my memory is so faded and selective.

He's writing me to say that he loves me. Telling me he's in class, thinking about ditching school to come and hang out with me (even though I'm in class, too?). He's writing me to say he's sorry he had to work so much all week because he had to work or whatever. Even though my memory doesn't recall everything, I don't think I've ever been the kind of person to be all upset about someone not being around, or having a life. Then he's telling me he's sorry he pissed me off, he wants to know if I still love him and that he still loves me. I don't remember a hard breakup. I don't think he even broke my heart. What I remember is that he was doing drugs so much, I got tired of hanging out with his loser friends so we stopped hanging out. From his letters it sounds so serious. I guess that's how high school was. Everything had so much Meaning.

Is this about my memory? Have I created a false memory of my life?

OH WELL.

Surprise me
and grind me
Who's turning round?

I hate thinking about what I went through with him. It always reminds me about how I always have to have someone but I Hate that about me. In my dreams I fly alone, in my thoughts I am strong and don't let people persuade me. But come back down - where am I now? This moment should be cherished, I should be lavishing about and smiling at who I am becoming.

I don't want to be social. I want to float up and lose my mind, be able to let go and have my art carry itself, build and grow and become something that I would be in awe of. So many things I have built into this wall that I think is there. It's not. Begonia is sitting on my skateboard looking all stoic. She has been in this really poised attitude lately. As if there is always someone adoring her from nearby. I need to take a picture of this - my 6lb. dainty kitty, who has perfected the "who, me?" look - looking 'cute' on my skateboard. I know that griptape has to be irritating her delicate pads and fur on her paws...

Was it before - or after - that I felt beautiful? Before I had to break it down for myself because he couldn't speak on his own. I hate feeling this feeling that I have refined for myself. I don't want to be welcoming it, feeling like this is okay because I've put myself through it so many times. Fear that I might forget how to love hits me sometimes. Does that mean I'm losing it? Losing touch with reality, or what I have built for myself...

There was something there because we both could feel it. It was hard to keep away, and some part of it was addicting because we didn't tire of being around each other. The thing that I get hung up on is what is it about me that makes him feel weird? Really, most of the time I don't accuse myself of doing something wrong, but something about him got me all hung up. It's been a long time since someone had that effect on me. I should be scared. I should run to somewhere besides here and think about other things, because this one is not going to magically go somewhere wonderful.

Today my mind is refreshed. I don't feel like doing anything, so I'm not. Part of me is wondering what's going to happen next; am I going to stop this gray feeling soon? I want to - and yet there is that numbing comfort in not venturing out. Underground. Stay in, make sure they don't see you because that way you won't have to give out any information. The dreaded information packets. There should be some kind of (anti)social party that is all about Not showing up, Not having to say what you've been up to because there is nothing to report. Not that I don't do things, I do plenty. But I do think it's the depression that keeps me home. There hasn't been enough goings-on to make me tired enough to stay home. I think lately I get tired because I never really woke up.

I can wait a million days.

What a break. I'm supposed to be looking for a job, sending out resumes and building myself up to look like I'm the best candidate for some job that I would never be looking for except that we are experiencing technical difficulties. I feel out of sync, I want that motivation to come back where I feel like painting, listening to music really loud, and not caring about the fact that I don't have a boyfriend. That isn't actually what I'm lacking; a boyfriend, I mean. It's just hard for me right now because I lack a job. I lack a feeling of normalcy, so I don't want to be sharing my self with many people. Selective about everything I do - from talking on the phone, going out, or even if I come out of my room to face my roommates.

It's not that I'm depressed, I just lack that feeling of love that I usually have inside. I feel it in there, I know I will get past this point in my life. Everyone says (and they're right) that I'm young and I have much to look forward to. Getting past this no-job, no-life, basic blah period of my life isn't the worst. At least I keep plodding forth. At least I'm not married with kids, or have some bad disease. There are so many positives, but it's hard when my negatives add up to this big weight that I don't like feeling every day. I feel angry inside, like some grrrl band is constantly playing hate songs: the kind we used to joke about in high school, when it was funny to listen to bikini kill and not take them seriously. But now there are girls screaming inside my head and I am constantly scared of lashing out on someone and killing all friendships, just because I'm mad at the world that my situation won't change.

The internet is great because It doesn't care. Everyone or no one could be listening, and maybe it will just implode into space - we'll all be left wondering what to do with ourselves.