(no subject)
Nothing is new. Nothing has changed. I'm existing, on the edge of explosion, trying to cram in all of this work and love. Trying to make so many plans, you know? A concert, a friend coming to Vermont. Worries; will I be able to get a job during break? What about when I come back from break? Where can I work on campus? I am too aware of my slowly draining funds.
There is constant tension; I carry too much in my back and jaw.
I feel this strain between who I am and who I was three months ago. Of who I need to be when I am back in Vermont. I'm afraid, not of the expectations I will be held to. It's just I know I cannot meet them anymore.
I miss you a lot. It's a constant ache but you know, I've gotten used to it. It's like being incomplete, but I've become accustomed to being this way. What will it be like suddenly complete, the moment I come home? I am cleaved (not right down the center, no, pieces of me love to be independent, but other parts long for you too much, and occasionally they even overlap); half of me has finally realized I can exist as an independent person from you. But the other half of me recognizes this and argues...I just don't want to. I can do it. It's possible. I even find myself enjoying it. But I love being with you, too. And pieces of me love this freedom to move. To exist. To not be worrying so much, what sort of person am I to not be with you ever moment? But I love you. And I know that. And I have always known that and always will know that and it will always be true. Definitions may shift, so it may mean different things, but that statement will always be true.
There is so much I miss. I miss cocoa powder on top of ice cream, and I miss what it feels like to be driving when it rains outside. I miss fire places and pine trees and the way it feels to wake up in a place that feels more like home than my room does. I miss stained hands from oil paints; I miss what it means to be with someone who can finish your sentences correctly almost every time. Sometimes people here try; sometimes we're in synch and say things at the same time. But mostly I just haven't known them long enough for that to work.
The thing I hate most is the occasional night where I wonder where I'll have to sleep. Because you see, I've done that before, two summers ago and again last winter. I heard someone say they felt homeless because they got sexiled so much; and yes, it sucks to be sexiled. But I hate it because it reminds me of living out of my car. But there are certain things that I just...don't know how to say. Moments in my past that are unmentionable. Moments that I just...can't forget.
There is constant tension; I carry too much in my back and jaw.
I feel this strain between who I am and who I was three months ago. Of who I need to be when I am back in Vermont. I'm afraid, not of the expectations I will be held to. It's just I know I cannot meet them anymore.
I miss you a lot. It's a constant ache but you know, I've gotten used to it. It's like being incomplete, but I've become accustomed to being this way. What will it be like suddenly complete, the moment I come home? I am cleaved (not right down the center, no, pieces of me love to be independent, but other parts long for you too much, and occasionally they even overlap); half of me has finally realized I can exist as an independent person from you. But the other half of me recognizes this and argues...I just don't want to. I can do it. It's possible. I even find myself enjoying it. But I love being with you, too. And pieces of me love this freedom to move. To exist. To not be worrying so much, what sort of person am I to not be with you ever moment? But I love you. And I know that. And I have always known that and always will know that and it will always be true. Definitions may shift, so it may mean different things, but that statement will always be true.
There is so much I miss. I miss cocoa powder on top of ice cream, and I miss what it feels like to be driving when it rains outside. I miss fire places and pine trees and the way it feels to wake up in a place that feels more like home than my room does. I miss stained hands from oil paints; I miss what it means to be with someone who can finish your sentences correctly almost every time. Sometimes people here try; sometimes we're in synch and say things at the same time. But mostly I just haven't known them long enough for that to work.
The thing I hate most is the occasional night where I wonder where I'll have to sleep. Because you see, I've done that before, two summers ago and again last winter. I heard someone say they felt homeless because they got sexiled so much; and yes, it sucks to be sexiled. But I hate it because it reminds me of living out of my car. But there are certain things that I just...don't know how to say. Moments in my past that are unmentionable. Moments that I just...can't forget.