That was the day
368 days ago that was how I started a post that possibly changed my entire future. January 19th, 2010.
But then it was also 316 days since Evan broke up with me. March 13th, 2010.
And, 266 days, May 2nd, the day he started seeing her.
Then, of coarse, 159 days, August 17th since I last spoke to him.
And it's 207 days till the end of the deadline or the start.
But wait. 4024 days, 11 years and 5 days, January 17th, 2000, since I started dating Fred.
There's always that debate in middle school or early highschool about when dates started. Right, is 1AD when we should really be starting our calendars? It's so hard to know anymore. I mean why should a capstone vent mark the start of time? Ever notice that everyone sets their alarm to 8:00 not 8:03 even though they only need 57 minutes to get ready? So, when do we start time? It's the new year you know and oh how much has changed. The year started off with a death and me lost. I thought he might call, express his sympathies. It's ok. No one remembered.
So this is the new year and I don't feel any different.
Do I start time with the day that really started the end of everything, the triggering event? Or do I have to go back further, like September 30th, 1983 when I was born, and since my poor decisions started? Or do I start with the actual end, the day he left me? Or the day he started time over? Or do I know that my savior is coming and have that be the start of time?
In the past year I have removed every picture off every wall of my house. There is no evidence I ever went to Italy. No proof that I ever knew anyone named Evan.
I haven't worn my Italy necklace. I wanted to be buried in it. That's how much it meant to me. I made Evan promise. Now I can't touch it. I can't bring myself to let me fingers even feel it. There was a time I thought I lost it and he offered to drive down to help me find it. I can't wear it again.
Last Christmas was the best Christmas of my life. Evan's gift was my favorite of my life. It was the last year I would get jewelry from my father. It would be the last year I would get an animal from Evan. It would be the last time Evan gave me a gift. It would be the last time I had hope.
A year ago I stopped telling myself stories. No more fantasies. I haven't since. I don't even remember how. Makes me wonder how much of my life I let myself hear stories as a way to pretend I wasn't where I was.
I took a trip last year. Two biggest regrets of my life. The first I wont even mention. The second, Puerto Rico. I have never been more miserable in my entire life. All I wanted was to escape, to go find something so impressive, so magical I could have hope. I wanted to somehow go away to get closer to Evan. And all that happened was he moved in with her, fell in love with her, and hung up on me. That was the first time I ever did anything to hurt myself.
When my father died I listened to the same song for hours and hours and hours on the different plane flights. It's funny now the things that I have to skip over. In therapy they ask me every week, the same questions, all the time:
do you have trouble hearing sounds or are not certain of their origin-no
do you feel like you are living in a fog so thick it is hard to see the world-yes
do you have trouble remembering parts of a traumatic event-no
do you ever have a dream so vivid of a traumatic event you feel as though it is happening again-yes
do you avoid things that used to give you pleasure because they remind you of stressful events-yes
I can't listen to Death Cab for fear of being reminded of him. Daniel tries to lay with me which seems so nice but I can't do it. I can't let myself relax like that. It's not his place to touch my hand as I close my eyes, it's not him I'm supposed to trust.
I have vacation time coming up again. I have been contemplating a trip to Spain/Portugal/Morocco or thinking of Croatia. Part of me so desperately wants to go, wants to travel and explore, and see the world and history and thoughts and escape and think that there must be more to me.
Italy was by far and away the best time of my entire life. That's why the necklace meant so much. I wanted to find something as beautiful as my trip was, something tangible, something to announce to everyone how in love I was. It was so long ago.
Puerto Rico was the worst time of my life. I wasn't meant to travel alone. I was meant to be with him. Or not. I don't much believe in that. I WANTED to be with him. I WANT to be with him. That is what I committed to, my life, to him.
The rhythm of my footsteps crossing flood lands to your door have been silenced forever more. the distance is quite simply much too far for me to row it seems farther than ever before. I need you so much closer.
How can I take another trip? How can I get up and leave again? Everyone remembers New Years? I waited for him. Everyone remembers Thanksgiving? I waited for him. What is the point of traveling if its not with him.
I've tried praying, I've tried being faithful. I've tried begging and forgiveness. I've tried opposite action and I've tried penance. I've tried fasting and I've tried imagining. I've tried patience and being honest. I've tried giving him what he wanted and leaving, disppearing, giving him time because he said he'd come back. March 13th, 2010, he said he would have called, if I had waited longer, he would have called. HOW LONG DO I HAVE TO WAIT THIS TIME EVAN? Tell me and I will.
None of it matters. I've prayed for so long. I've written so many letters and crossed off so many friends. I've hurt myself and watched as the world spun on without me. I've had plans and dreams and nightmares and defeats. And every single blasted day I know he wakes up with her, I know he looks at her and he loves her and that I am simply much too far in the past. He swore we would be friends, that I was too important to his life to just disappear and yet everyday he remembers me less. He promised he'd keep a picture of my on his desk and everyday he forgets what I looked like. There is nothing I can do. I have no way to talk to him again until his birthday. He doesn't want to remember me. I write him so much, tell him everything about my day, about my life about the jokes we used to have. I still buy him presents. Christmas, birthday, random. None of it matters. He deleted me, from myspace, from email, from his phone, his desk, his life and his memory. She isn't any better. I've seen her. But I am that much worse. I begged God. I know I was at one point Good enough for God but I gave that up eons ago. I lost Evan the same way as scott was nice enough to remind me. But it's true.
I go the water often, to the ferry dock. I watch it come in and float out. I watch the wake as the boat slinks off. I watch the small waves as the sun sets so early in the day. It's purple. The water is so much deeper than we think. I watch the birds settle on the ripples and I stare out to the little flickers of light too far away for me to see clearly and I think about the day I went there. The day with Evan. I think about finding star fish, about the lighthouse. I see the trees on the tops of the hills and I think "this is what we've made." And I wonder what I mean. In group they tell us to not kill ourselves with the past that the present is more than enough for anyone to handle. They suggest a mantra "everything is as it is." How that should help is beyond me. All it does is remind me of my failings, my mistakes. It is that way because of what I did, what I didn't do. This is what we've made. I think about steam punk books of antique trains and billowing smoke. I think about the small fires of wood and flames. I think about the simplicity of a lighthouse. Then I think of the dawn, with the cars, with the horns, with the computers. I always wanted a small house far from everyone, me, the dogs, Evan.
Does it count as being a stalker if you don't actually talk to the person?
They used to say that if you had a bad trip it meant you were a bad person. I tend to go more with the dreaming idea. What was the last random sequence of neurons? If I heard Ellie it would be ok.
Daniel says I am just obsessive. I never needed to talk to Daniel about my relationship with Evan because I had Evan. He never had the chance to see how much I loved Evan. It would only be obsessed if it was false and then I would be too.
I prayed for so long. I had promised Evan a year ago that if he let me I would fix it. I would have. I would have, but he never let me. I pray to God to help me fix this now. I pray to God to understand, to help me. I pray. It wasn't until two days ago that I realized I was praying for the wrong thing. I know God could never make Evan love me. Evan never did. But God could do something to help. Is it farther or further when discussing time? With distance it is supposed be farther but who's to say about time?
I wish the world was flat like the old days then i could travel just by folding a map. No more airplanes, or speed trains, or freeways, there'd be no distance that could hold us back.
I reread these all the time. I am constantly amazed by my own writing. I know, Daniel thinks it is nothing. I rather like my own voice. But then, I am the only one who ever hears it. Somehow no one else follows along with me. It's ok. Maybe in the New Year. Year 1, 207 days away. Remember the only weird version of sci fi with talk of worm holes? I read physics articles now incase there is something in them Evan might enjoy, but I have no way to tell him. I remember in some show or book or movie or story somewhere there was this thought about how if we could fold time, fold it like paper, then when we opened it back up we would be somewhere else, some other time. God brought the sun down before, so no one had to ask what have we made. But how many days ago was that?
But then it was also 316 days since Evan broke up with me. March 13th, 2010.
And, 266 days, May 2nd, the day he started seeing her.
Then, of coarse, 159 days, August 17th since I last spoke to him.
And it's 207 days till the end of the deadline or the start.
But wait. 4024 days, 11 years and 5 days, January 17th, 2000, since I started dating Fred.
There's always that debate in middle school or early highschool about when dates started. Right, is 1AD when we should really be starting our calendars? It's so hard to know anymore. I mean why should a capstone vent mark the start of time? Ever notice that everyone sets their alarm to 8:00 not 8:03 even though they only need 57 minutes to get ready? So, when do we start time? It's the new year you know and oh how much has changed. The year started off with a death and me lost. I thought he might call, express his sympathies. It's ok. No one remembered.
So this is the new year and I don't feel any different.
Do I start time with the day that really started the end of everything, the triggering event? Or do I have to go back further, like September 30th, 1983 when I was born, and since my poor decisions started? Or do I start with the actual end, the day he left me? Or the day he started time over? Or do I know that my savior is coming and have that be the start of time?
In the past year I have removed every picture off every wall of my house. There is no evidence I ever went to Italy. No proof that I ever knew anyone named Evan.
I haven't worn my Italy necklace. I wanted to be buried in it. That's how much it meant to me. I made Evan promise. Now I can't touch it. I can't bring myself to let me fingers even feel it. There was a time I thought I lost it and he offered to drive down to help me find it. I can't wear it again.
Last Christmas was the best Christmas of my life. Evan's gift was my favorite of my life. It was the last year I would get jewelry from my father. It would be the last year I would get an animal from Evan. It would be the last time Evan gave me a gift. It would be the last time I had hope.
A year ago I stopped telling myself stories. No more fantasies. I haven't since. I don't even remember how. Makes me wonder how much of my life I let myself hear stories as a way to pretend I wasn't where I was.
I took a trip last year. Two biggest regrets of my life. The first I wont even mention. The second, Puerto Rico. I have never been more miserable in my entire life. All I wanted was to escape, to go find something so impressive, so magical I could have hope. I wanted to somehow go away to get closer to Evan. And all that happened was he moved in with her, fell in love with her, and hung up on me. That was the first time I ever did anything to hurt myself.
When my father died I listened to the same song for hours and hours and hours on the different plane flights. It's funny now the things that I have to skip over. In therapy they ask me every week, the same questions, all the time:
do you have trouble hearing sounds or are not certain of their origin-no
do you feel like you are living in a fog so thick it is hard to see the world-yes
do you have trouble remembering parts of a traumatic event-no
do you ever have a dream so vivid of a traumatic event you feel as though it is happening again-yes
do you avoid things that used to give you pleasure because they remind you of stressful events-yes
I can't listen to Death Cab for fear of being reminded of him. Daniel tries to lay with me which seems so nice but I can't do it. I can't let myself relax like that. It's not his place to touch my hand as I close my eyes, it's not him I'm supposed to trust.
I have vacation time coming up again. I have been contemplating a trip to Spain/Portugal/Morocco or thinking of Croatia. Part of me so desperately wants to go, wants to travel and explore, and see the world and history and thoughts and escape and think that there must be more to me.
Italy was by far and away the best time of my entire life. That's why the necklace meant so much. I wanted to find something as beautiful as my trip was, something tangible, something to announce to everyone how in love I was. It was so long ago.
Puerto Rico was the worst time of my life. I wasn't meant to travel alone. I was meant to be with him. Or not. I don't much believe in that. I WANTED to be with him. I WANT to be with him. That is what I committed to, my life, to him.
The rhythm of my footsteps crossing flood lands to your door have been silenced forever more. the distance is quite simply much too far for me to row it seems farther than ever before. I need you so much closer.
How can I take another trip? How can I get up and leave again? Everyone remembers New Years? I waited for him. Everyone remembers Thanksgiving? I waited for him. What is the point of traveling if its not with him.
I've tried praying, I've tried being faithful. I've tried begging and forgiveness. I've tried opposite action and I've tried penance. I've tried fasting and I've tried imagining. I've tried patience and being honest. I've tried giving him what he wanted and leaving, disppearing, giving him time because he said he'd come back. March 13th, 2010, he said he would have called, if I had waited longer, he would have called. HOW LONG DO I HAVE TO WAIT THIS TIME EVAN? Tell me and I will.
None of it matters. I've prayed for so long. I've written so many letters and crossed off so many friends. I've hurt myself and watched as the world spun on without me. I've had plans and dreams and nightmares and defeats. And every single blasted day I know he wakes up with her, I know he looks at her and he loves her and that I am simply much too far in the past. He swore we would be friends, that I was too important to his life to just disappear and yet everyday he remembers me less. He promised he'd keep a picture of my on his desk and everyday he forgets what I looked like. There is nothing I can do. I have no way to talk to him again until his birthday. He doesn't want to remember me. I write him so much, tell him everything about my day, about my life about the jokes we used to have. I still buy him presents. Christmas, birthday, random. None of it matters. He deleted me, from myspace, from email, from his phone, his desk, his life and his memory. She isn't any better. I've seen her. But I am that much worse. I begged God. I know I was at one point Good enough for God but I gave that up eons ago. I lost Evan the same way as scott was nice enough to remind me. But it's true.
I go the water often, to the ferry dock. I watch it come in and float out. I watch the wake as the boat slinks off. I watch the small waves as the sun sets so early in the day. It's purple. The water is so much deeper than we think. I watch the birds settle on the ripples and I stare out to the little flickers of light too far away for me to see clearly and I think about the day I went there. The day with Evan. I think about finding star fish, about the lighthouse. I see the trees on the tops of the hills and I think "this is what we've made." And I wonder what I mean. In group they tell us to not kill ourselves with the past that the present is more than enough for anyone to handle. They suggest a mantra "everything is as it is." How that should help is beyond me. All it does is remind me of my failings, my mistakes. It is that way because of what I did, what I didn't do. This is what we've made. I think about steam punk books of antique trains and billowing smoke. I think about the small fires of wood and flames. I think about the simplicity of a lighthouse. Then I think of the dawn, with the cars, with the horns, with the computers. I always wanted a small house far from everyone, me, the dogs, Evan.
Does it count as being a stalker if you don't actually talk to the person?
They used to say that if you had a bad trip it meant you were a bad person. I tend to go more with the dreaming idea. What was the last random sequence of neurons? If I heard Ellie it would be ok.
Daniel says I am just obsessive. I never needed to talk to Daniel about my relationship with Evan because I had Evan. He never had the chance to see how much I loved Evan. It would only be obsessed if it was false and then I would be too.
I prayed for so long. I had promised Evan a year ago that if he let me I would fix it. I would have. I would have, but he never let me. I pray to God to help me fix this now. I pray to God to understand, to help me. I pray. It wasn't until two days ago that I realized I was praying for the wrong thing. I know God could never make Evan love me. Evan never did. But God could do something to help. Is it farther or further when discussing time? With distance it is supposed be farther but who's to say about time?
I wish the world was flat like the old days then i could travel just by folding a map. No more airplanes, or speed trains, or freeways, there'd be no distance that could hold us back.
I reread these all the time. I am constantly amazed by my own writing. I know, Daniel thinks it is nothing. I rather like my own voice. But then, I am the only one who ever hears it. Somehow no one else follows along with me. It's ok. Maybe in the New Year. Year 1, 207 days away. Remember the only weird version of sci fi with talk of worm holes? I read physics articles now incase there is something in them Evan might enjoy, but I have no way to tell him. I remember in some show or book or movie or story somewhere there was this thought about how if we could fold time, fold it like paper, then when we opened it back up we would be somewhere else, some other time. God brought the sun down before, so no one had to ask what have we made. But how many days ago was that?