a note to abigail--

In the midst of all this, senior lockers and driving classes, spontaneous speeches and parking spots, applications and essays and rainy days and anxious letters--I find that through it, all I can think about is you.

I think about your excited laugh, and how I used to be able to summon it quite frequently.  I think about my first day of school freshman year, and how you sat with me and ate on the catwalk just 'cause I felt like it, and we threw chicken at the science class below and commanded them that they dance.  I think about our wide array of inside jokes, and our various matching outfits we'd wear the same day just to screw with people's heads, and that day we darted around Mihama with so much inexplicable joy we could only release it by running even harder, though our lungs were on fire.  We rested at that fried rice place and I then decided you were worthy of hearing Coree: the real story.  You sat there and listened as I poured out the dark parts of me and through the years, you helped me to realize that that was merely a dark chapter of the real story.  I think about our legendary pillow fight, and when your family had to teach me how to eat ribs for the first time.  I think about doing the dishes and the spectacular playlist that went with that, and how your dog quickly became smitten with me after I started speaking Japanese to him... apparently another language of love.  Suwate.... ;}
I hate that we don't talk very often.  I hate that I have no idea how your life is going, and I hate that skype Tuesdays stopped, and I hate that it's possible you don't even realize how often I think about you.  I would love to gush on and on about how every fiber of my being is consumed with thoughts of your well-being, but perhaps I'll just leave that vague.
I hate that you moved.  I hate that we didn't get to be best friends.  I hate looking at the gorgeous black and white pictures of you in my wall collage and thinking that's over... she's on to newer and bigger adventures.
Don't forget me, okay?
I'm here, on this little island, dreaming of being with you.

baby come back

We still cool?

Sorry I've not been posting here.  My B.....
I've redone the template and I've got plenty of new pictures and new thoughts
so maybe I'll give this another go.

There Is No Spoon

Father: Have you two skyped this morning?
Me: No.
Father: So... you skyped last night?
Me: Nope.
Father: Is there a reason why?
Me: .... no.

He's looking at me like his entire existence has been a lie or something.  My father can't comprehend this.  Funny he picked up on it, hah.

Well Then.

This is going to sound weird.
But I think I like being by myself better.

When I'm by myself, I don't care about what people think, and then... well, then no one can hurt me.  I'm tired of my callous getting thicker and thicker.  I'd rather just be left here, blissfully, completely alone.

I Changed.

There is something about being left completely to your own devices that makes one grow as a person.  I mean really.  If you're thrown to the wolves you either fight them off, learn to live with them, or get eaten and die.  If you're thrown into the sea you either learn to swim or you drown.  If your shoes leave a blister enough times in the same spot, then you form a callous to avoid further pain.  Vaccines are really just tiny bits of diseases, injected into us so that we can learn how to fight them off and avoid future sickliness.
We are built to adapt and survive.

And so I suppose I shouldn't be very surprised to realize that I am alone more often than I'm with people... and I don't mind anymore.  I prefer it, actually.  I get up everyday and I embrace the lonesomeness. 
But it's weird to think that now I'm the one standing in the room, making snappish comments towards the whimsical simpletons who enjoy getting under my skin just right.  I'm the one who's just too tired to go out on any spontaneous adventures.  I'm the one who wakes up and gets ready and sits through seminary, teeth gritted through the mindless contentions of the underclassmen, and then sleeps on the couch until school stars and then goes to class and listens and then eats a regular amount of regular food and then goes to more class and then rides the bus home and then finishes homework and then sits there on the computer until it's time to go to bed and repeat it all over again.  Day.  After.  Day.

It feels as if life it just a 3-D movie.  I'm watching everything and it's pretty interesting... but I just can't bring myself to care.  I am not involved.  I am no main character.
Am I even capable of caring?  I don't know.

This emotional callous of mine is just too thick.  I long for the raw, irrational, passionate emotions I used to base my every action off of.  Because even if often times I was stupid and dependent and immature and really flat out ridiculous, I genuinely cared about things.  I was involved in the lives of others and... well, at the very least I was involved in my own life! 

Some call it strength or independence. 
I'm starting to understand how overrated it is.

My Most Obvious Secret

I know I’m supposed to be moving on right now and everything… but…

I find that I can’t help but ask.

Don’t you ever stop for a moment and remember stuff?

Don’t you ever put a little pause on life and think to yourself, “Oh my god.  That is over and done with.  That will never be my life… ever again.  No matter what anybody says or whatever I want to happen, it’s done.”

Yeah we’ll be happy.  We’ll be fine. Life will change and evolve and new things will bring us joy.

But doesn’t it bother you that it won’t be with me? 

Is there a little space inside of you where you know I belong, but I’m just not there to fill it?

I think of the last time I saw you.  That night... the way it felt to walk up the steps to my porch and try not to look back--try to be strong.
What I would do to be in that moment again and have the option of turning around and begging you to stay for just a moment longer. 

Frankly, you make me feel absolutely stupid.

But I just can’t help it.  This is me.  I am weak and dependent and I miss you.

Still.

Just as much as the day you left.

An Update.