somebody tell me if i am sleeping

i think i've been putting off doing this for a while.

i was looking at the stars last night, in between crying and being dizzy and trying not to crash my car on the highway. so beautiful. one of those times when i think "there's a reason why i had to be out tonight". i saw eternal sunshine, and it really, really hit me. because what do i have? memories. and if i didn't have memories, i wouldn't be anyone. not really. i've only just started to live life moment by moment. hey, maybe i'm a late bloomer. maybe i just figured out that i'm letting my life pass by without holding onto anything except people, and now those people are going to be gone in the immediate future. i have to start being me.

i wasn't going to cry on friday. i thought that it would be so ridiculous to cry, and i was still so jaded from the past six years that i wasn't going to give any of those people the satisfaction of thinking they "got through to me". i wrote one journal entry, the first in something like two weeks, the night before. saying how i could try to write, but it would be pointless to try and make up twenty journal entries. and i cried. i cried because i admitted to myself that i didn't feel the need to write anymore. that i couldn't just pick up a pen or get on the net and write what i was thinking, because my mind is such a fog anymore. i didn't want to let go, to say that i'm stopping, because i don't know what i'll do if i don't write. but i did. i let go.

and then friday came. i really disliked all the retreats, and i knew what this one was so i was setting myself up to be even - nothing was going to get to me. i got the letter i wrote to myself in seventh grade. i couldn't remember if i did end up writing that i was never going to read it, because i was going to die long before 12th grade. i remembered how pissed off i was that day. and i can't figure out why i didn't write that. too scared probably. i ripped up the letter.

i was going to burn all the letters without ever reading them. i've already been through that whole thing before, except the first time there was more, and they were all in a religious context. but i read all of them, just because people took the time to write them. and almost all of them were so... fake. these people who don't know me, don't know anything about me except my grade, they all assume everything about me. and when i'm myself around them, they get angry at me. like i'm some sort of bad influence on the rest of the family. if they only knew.

but they don't want to know. and i don't want to tell them. so we're even.

people were crying. and for once, i was fine. at least, i think i was. i was hoping that i wouldn't have to confront anything with anyone, because i didn't want to let go yet. i just wanted to be left alone, so i could pretend for a while that everything was fine.

i'm still trying to figure what it was. it could've been that i'm just an emotional wreck at random times. maybe it was seeing everyone else. maybe... because it felt like you were saying goodbye to me.

and then everything that i didn't want to confront just hit me at once. and it did it again last night. except... except that was more real. my actually admitting to jess that i'm scared out of my mind. me, admitting to myself, that i'm not ok. that i don't know how to make things ok anymore. that i'm afraid i might do something really stupid next year.

i think way too much. i over-analyze everything that could happen to me. and everything that i just let happen... it's like i'm floating in the stars. not expecting anything, not wanting anything, makes everything so much... better. like, i've finally accepted myself for me, and that people stay around me for me.

of course that comes and goes too. but when i do feel it...

self-esteem is such an odd thing. being me is something that i've always had a hard time with. i wouldn't want to be anyone else, it's just that sometimes i want to be just slightly different. maybe sometimes not so crazy. not passive. not needing to be secure so much. not being so deathly afraid of being rejected. and then this year... accept me for who i am. i think the whole idea of piercings and tattoos has really, helped me, be secure with the skin i'm in. like, finally feeling that my soul is beautiful, and because of that, physical appearance doesn't matter. i am the way i should be. anything that i add is just another part of the physical me. it's amazing how more aware i am of feeling and seeing other people now. there's a story behind scars and acts. and there's an even more important person behind those things. get to know the soul before you look at the appearance. if i can feel a person's soul, they look beautiful, because they are beautiful, no matter what insecurities they have about their physical appearance.

i'm rambling now. another way to get away from what i was wanting to say. but that's part of it. i can't write down what i mean anymore. the really weird part... for once i think i can actually talk about it. and even weirder, i want to. i need a dialogue more than i need a one way conversation with my crazy self on a computer screen.

i'm at an odd place right now, where i want to be open with people. odd because i am so afraid of being rejected by people. i guess knowing that you're loved does weird things to you.

well, obviously.

i'll have more, much more to say, but i want to talk about it out loud first.

all i'm asking for now is for someone to listen.