This was not originally meant to be a journal, but it has sort of turned into one. However, I will occasionally throw in a random meander, so it's up to you to decide what is fact and what is fantasy...

E-mail to you #21 (never sent)

Words slip off of our tongues and fill the air around us but no matter how many words our lips release, we still don't talk anymore.

E-mail to someone else #52 (never sent)

You keep saying you want more of me in your life, that you want us to be close again but so far it appears you only want me in your life when it's convenient for you. I can't base my life on a matter of convenience. This does not mean I don't love you, that will never change. But until you realize my life has as much value as yours, we will remain at an impasse.

It may take you some time to do this, it certainly took me half of my life to.

E-mail to myself #40

You've got a synthetic heart,
I tease, taunt.
I can hear its beat, beating
Like a stick hitting a tin can.
But still, at least that tinny clank,
that hollow, insubstantial sound,
is better than nothing at all.

E-mail to no one who would ever listen anyhow #3

Today I found a poem I started writing 14 years ago. It was about you but I didn't really accept that until today. As I read the poem I found the words good, the imagery strong and for a second, I wondered why I hadn't finished it. Then I told me not to kid myself. I didn't finish it because I didn't want to give you an ending, at least not the ending the poem was leading to (let me give you a hint, it wasn't a "happy ending"). Today I finished that poem. I gave you the only ending that could be. And I was right, it wasn't happy. But I can accept that now. Can you?

E-mail to myself #39

Up at dawn to get ready for the Relay. 24 sleepless hours later, I creep home, tired, gritty and sore (muscles stressed from shivering during the cold hours of the night when even a cup of hot chocolate, two blankets and a sleeping bag cannot warm you up). Before I answer the beckoning call of the sandman, I stop to feed my neighbor's cats. Warm furry bodies and even warmer purrs make me smile. My bed is waiting, but it must wait a little longer. 35 minutes later I finally finish brushing out the snarls and tangles a windy day and night brought to my hair and step into a nice hot bath. The water temperature is perfect, a state rarely achieved but at this time, I dare not enjoy too much as my eyes want to drift closed. Body dried, teeth brushed, all that awaits is sleep. The feeling I have when I slip in between soft and cool white sheets is almost indescribable, it's delicious.. I snuggle further into my pillow, still smelling slightly of soap, finally warm, finally home... and for a change, sleep arrives in less than five minutes. And also for a change, my sleep is dreamless.

E-mail to someone else #51

This morning, when I was driving home, I felt so happy. I felt calm and relaxed. The music on the radio was good and as I sped on down Baron Cameron I felt like I could just go on forever. It wasn't like I wanted to run away or anything, it's just that I felt such a feeling of contentment and satisfaction and it felt like driving on and on would have kept that feeling alive. But when my turn came up, I took it. Roads don't go on forever. Knowing your limitations will lose you some freedom, but not knowing your limitations can cost you so much more.

E-mail to myself #38

On the drive home tonight, I hit a section of road and my car was filled with the scent of honeysuckle. The practical side of me, the realistic part, told me that honeysuckle is an invasive plant that murders native ground cover and vines up trees, often killing them by cutting off their sap and shading their leaves... but for that moment, I was young again and I could taste its sweet nectar on my tongue. I breathed in deeply and had a sudden urge to close my eyes... but I didn't... because I was driving and because I knew if I did, instead of seeing those sweetly scented yellow and white double tongued flowers I would see you.

E-mail to you #20 (never sent)

I write vaguely for everyone else because I don't want them to identify themselves unless they really want to know it's them I'm writing about. I let them fool themselves because that's all most people really want to do anyhow. But you, I write obviously to you, about you. I hide nothing. Do you want to know why? Because I know you'll never read it.

You never do.

E-mail to someone else #50

Last night I stood outside and watched the clouds race by the nearly full moon. I wished for a back yard instead of a parking lot so that I could grab a sleeping bag and stretch out and watch the nighttime sky for hours, like I used to so long ago. I'm tired of parking lot glimpses of the moon, Orion, and the milky-way. This summer, I want to go camping, no frills, tent and sleeping bag camping, with food cooked over the fire, and other exclusively camping things. I've only been no frills camping once in my life (frills camping a couple of other times) but I'm really craving something bordering on primitive. I will probably be terrible at it, pitch the tent where there are rocks and burn the food to where it is mostly inedible and jump at the noises occuring in the darkness beyond the fire. I'll smell like smoke and my hair will get snarled and tangled and there will be big spiders in the tent and other creepy-crawlies. But I'll be primitive and wild... again

E-mail to someone else #49

The distance that has grown between us is getting wider and I'm starting to think that if we let it get too much wider we won't ever be able to span it. Did I change as much as you have when it happened to me? I suppose I must have, but we came through that okay. Didn't we? I know you know we're drifting, I've heard the yearning in your "voice" when I've read your e-mails to me. I will admit I'm not happy with your changes, but I am glad that you are happier. I can be a good enough friend to wish you happiness even it means a closure of our friendship.

E-mail to no one who would ever listen anyhow #2

Don't you see that you are killing him? He needs your support right now but you keep saying that he needs to be strong. Since when have you ever been strong? I think you can't support him because the very same thing that is killing him is your harm too and you can't give it up. Now if only I were brave enough to say that to your face.

E-mail to myself #37

Sometimes I write she when I really mean he. It's all designed to throw you off, to keep you unaware. And for those of you who think I'm speaking directly to you, did you ever stop to think I'm actually only speaking to myself?

Where does that leave us now?

E-mail to someone else #48

Oh, it may be love, but it's not obsession, because I'm moving on with my life. I'm making choices that are taking me farther and further away. I don't speak to you much anymore. Maybe I'm afraid you'll condemn me for what I feel, instead of admiring me for what I do in spite of what I feel. Aren't we the silly ones.

E-mail to you #19 (never sent)

If you thought it difficult to control me before, you'll never be able to do it now.

E-mail to someone else #47 (never sent)

You'll accept me if I fit into your life but you make no effort to fit into mine. I'm doing good things, and no I don't really expect you to stand there and applaud, I just want you to experience something that is so very much important to me. But obviously I'm not important enough to you.

E-mail to someone else #46

There goes my life again, slipping out of place, spinning out of control... but maybe it's not really, maybe it just feels that way and if I just close my eyes, that feeling will go away. I want a lot of things to go away. I want to go away. To Alaska, where no one knows me (not like they really know me here), to Alaska because it's the only place that feels like I could fit in. But maybe I would hate fitting in, I just don't know, I never have.

E-mail to someone else #45 (never sent)

You I don't need right now, not when your gaze has gone all deceptively sleepy. Be the strong one please, because right now, I'm very, very weak...

E-mail to everyone who thinks they have a claim on my life #1 (never sent)

Why don't you accept that I'm never going to be what you expect me to be? I know you're thinking I could if I tried, but I did try, and it didn't work so let it go. Let me go. Life would be a whole lot easier if I had no ties, no connections, and no expectations to live up to. I want easier. Is that so wrong?

E-mail to you #18 (never sent)

Love is not enough, but it's what we're holding on to. We're wrong for each other and I think we've always known this. Maybe it's because you believe in true love and I don't (though just because I don't believe in it doesn't mean I haven't wished for it). Or maybe it's because neither of us have ever learned to be part of a whole. We keep ourselves separate too much, not only from each other, but from the world too, with you wanting to be part but not knowing how, and me, I just don't trust it at all. But maybe we'll learn one day. Maybe we'll change. Until then, holding on is fine.

E-mail to no one who would ever listen anyhow #1

Rock bottom isn't the end. Six feet under is.

E-mail to someone else #44

Pretend everything is okay. Laugh a little louder to cover up that nagging little voice that insists something isn't right, something is missing. There's nothing wrong with your little sham, holidays are supposed to be happy events. A delusion for a day, but if you stretch it into next week, then you'll have problems. Yeah, that's right. The queen of daydreaming is telling you that you're going to have to face reality...

E-mail to myself #36

"I'm losing you." She said.

"I was never yours to lose." He replied. And she knew it was true. No one truly owns another person, and you cannot lose what is not yours. But still, still it hurt. She knew it would for a long time.

E-mail to someone else #43

See how it can all change in less than a minute? You can take all the precautions in the world, and still you are not guaranteed invulnerability. I am not the world's biggest risk taker and yet I risk everything on just a sideways glance. I cannot stand this lack of security but I know time will fade this desperate feeling as only time can. And all I can do until then is wait.

E-mail to someone else #42

Why do I think I may be a lie? Because in some sense, I did reinvent myself. Do you think I could have grown up where and how I did without it leaving its mark? Oh, maybe you can still find the slightest trace, maybe a vowel stretched too long or a "t" too soft... but I trained myself out of the harshest sounds, the obvious give aways. Is it still a lie when it comes naturally? And because it now comes naturally, I need to work on the traces. They need to go away too.

E-mail to you #17 (never sent)

What if everything I say and do is a lie? What if I am just some character I thought up and every spoken thought just a well-rehearsed script? It is a possibility I could have created myself for you. "No, no, no." He most likely thinks. "If you created yourself for me, you wouldn't be this difficult to deal with. You would be sweeter, more agreeable... not so prickly."

I still insist that somewhere there are lies. But maybe I'm only telling them to myself.

E-mail to someone else #41

Fear's a funny little emotion. It dominates our lives in so many ways and most people never even realize it. Or maybe they are too embarrassed to admit their fears. "I think you're afraid of too many things." He says. And sometimes I agree. But sometimes I think I'm not afraid of enough.

E-mail to myself #36

So you see world, I did it. I jumped. And I fell at the speed of 120 miles an hour for close to two miles. I wanted to impress you world, but I know now you are not mine to impress. "Why did you want to fall so badly?" He asked, searching my eyes for secrets my lips might not tell. But there were no secrets, not about this. Why did I want to fall so badly? Because for once I wanted it to be my choice.

E-mail to myself #35

She makes you question the thin line between allegiance to others and to yourself. Your strong code of loyalty forbids you from causing them pain, hurt. But what about your loyalty to self? Shouldn't you have that moment of happiness, that all too rare feeling of bliss? All these questions, these doubts and possibilities... She's brought a scowl to your face as you try to figure out just how thin that line could be...

E-mail to myself #34

They all want to change you. Turn you into something they can place limits on. Something they can control. They can't they see that by binding your spirit they're raping your soul. Why do you let them do this?

E-mail to myself #33

He wonders why I don't trust love. Sometimes I wonder that myself, but I suspect it's because I've seen the harm it can do when misused. I've heard her words cripple those around her, binding them to her with their overtones of betrayal. "You don't really love me..." And I've heard those very words echoing in my head when in opposition with you. Love is not about manipulation. Sometimes I think we all forget this.

E-mail to someone else #40

Tonight, my whole world is crashing in. Oh, I know it isn't really, it just feels that way. So I did mindless work. Three hours of painting paint sticks by hand (don't think I don't see the irony in this). And it worked, to an extent. But now it's finished, I'm out of paint and it still feels like everything is ready to fall apart. Maybe it will. Maybe it won't. If it does, I'll just have to wait and see what I'm left with once the dust settles.

E-mail to someone else #39

Why am I going skydiving? Because I want to feel alive. Because I've always wanted to fly, and this is the closest I am ever going to come to it. Because I want to fall. Understand now?

E-mail to someone else #38 (not yet sent)

Invisible-Girl, here's something I thought you should know. I've always seen you. And I always will. See, there's my superhero power, I see the invisible. Okay, I'll confess. I have no super power, and you're not really invisible. You just hide yourself so well sometimes that people looking straight don't see you. But those of us who look sideways at things will always see you. And trust me, those who only look head-on just aren't worth the tears you cry.

E-mail to myself #32

I'm keeping secrets. There are things I'm not telling. Dark little slices of intrigue squirreled away quietly in my heart. And you who take me for granted don't notice at all. Silly boy.

E-mail to someone else #37

I wanted to believe the look on his face as he looked at me was wistful. But since when have I ever had the power to command such a look? You ask me now, why do I want his look to be wistful? Do I dream of other things, other people? And I have to say, that dream is always alive, that fantasy is always there, and there is nothing wrong in wanting, there is only wrong in actions taken to make it come true, if such actions harm others. And so leave me with my wants and my dreams, and my harmless little fantasy of wistfulness.

E-mail to you #16 (never sent)

"You say that as though you believe it." Of course that's what I believe. Haven't you been paying attention these past 8 years? And I never understood why you didn't believe it. Or why the one before you didn't believe it, or the one before him didn't believe it and so on...

E-mail to someone else #36

I understood that cat perfectly. There was such yearning in his eyes, he really wanted me to touch him and he started towards me several times but in the end, his fear overruled his desire and he ran away. Too often, I am that cat. I want people to touch me, to reach me, but when they start to get too near, I back away. I just don't think I know how to let anyone get close anymore.

September 11, 2002

It's a beautiful day out today. The sky is bright blue and dotted with wispy white clouds. There's a breeze that makes me want to close my eyes and smile as it runs its fingers through my hair. A year later, and I still can't smile at planes as they fly overhead, but a year ago, I thought I would never be able to laugh again, and I have.

E-mail to you #15 (never sent)

Could I walk away that easily? Sometimes, I think I could. I have a little trick I've learned, a way to harden my heart to these little traumas, that makes it easy for me to leave things behind. Oh, not that I am heartless, I'll grieve alright, you'll see it in my words, not that you ever read them, or listen to them, or understand them. Maybe I'm just transient, never meant to be permanent.

E-mail to you #14 (never sent)

You made me laugh tonight. Laugh like I haven't laughed since, well, since Connecticut when I tried to get into someone else's car, but that time wasn't special, there were two other people there and the three of you laughed at me while I laughed in embarrassment. But this time, you were being silly, just for me. My little fool.

E-mail to someone else #35

I don't know what to do. This web is tangled. And every move I make tangles it even more. I swore no more tangles. I promised no more ghosts. How come the only promises I never keep are the ones to myself? I remember you gently brushing the tangles from my hair, and I know you want to do the same with this twisted web I've woven, but you can't. We both know it's time I handled things myself.

E-mail to myself #31

Tonight I feel lost. Out of place. With no identity and no purpose. I need solidity but solidity keeps slipping out of my hands like something so clich&#eacute;d as water. I certainly don't need them telling me how ethereal I am. Those words they can keep.

E-mail to you #13 (never sent)

Sometimes I feel like you don't want a girlfriend, you want a parrot or a tape-recorder. Someone who is programmed to say only what you want to hear. You're looking for yourself and you're only going to find bits and pieces of you in me, never the whole. And I think again, maybe I'm not cut out for this. Can you tell me why you (and everyone else) want me to be something I'm not?

E-mail to myself #30

You know he's going to die, don't you? He can't keep poisoning his body like that and expect to live. And if that doesn't get him, drug dealers will. I know you think you're prepared, but have you considered what it's going to do to everyone else?

I'm strong and I'll survive this too. But I'm not sure about them.

E-mail to someone else #34 (never sent)

I can't protect you. That's where the frustration lies. That's why I leave your house in despair. From you I learned life would only work if the balance were right. But I've learned on my own that the balance is rarely right. You're still so much a house of cards, and I think I can see those cards trembling.

E-mail to someone else #33

I wasn't stupid, you know. I was an introvert. It must have unnerved her to scream and yell at me only to have me stare back at her blankly. As soon as the first "stupid" left her mouth, I retreated into some shadowy corner of my mind. But I heard every word, and they hurt, every single time. How could it not?

E-mail to someone else #32

Damage is damage. Some things can never be fully repaired. Here's where I stand and make my speech: "I would like to thank Ms. Ship, my second grade teacher, for telling me every day that I was a failure, a loser, a nothing, that I would never be anything worthwhile in my entire life. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be the person I am today. I wouldn't doubt my intelligence at every turn. I wouldn't be so afraid to try new things. I..." Well, maybe I shouldn't pity myself so much, after all, I survived and what's done is done.

E-mail to someone else #31

My distrust runs deep, I know. Smile at me, and I'll wonder what's wrong. Go out of your way to compliment me and you'll notice I start to edge away. Try to actually reach me and all you'll see is the dust settling where I used to stand. Okay, maybe I'm being a little dramatic. Maybe I'm not really that bad. But I could be!

E-mail to myself #29

Vertigo. Do you remember when, as a child, you would stand in the middle of a field and spin round and round until your feet slipped out from under you and you landed flat on your back where you laid laughing as the world continued to spin without you? He makes me feel that way again.

E-mail to someone else #30

Time doesn't heal old wounds. But it can help you forget about them. This week, I tried to remember something, but found the memory vague and confusing. This is very odd for me. I remember Palm trees and my brother and sister calling them "naked trees" (because the way their bark peeled) as we drove by them the last time I was in Florida. I was 13 months old. I can still hear my mother's voice asking me "Don't you ever forget anything?" a question I heard often growing up. Maybe... but when I thought on it, the memory came back to me, sharp and clear. I should have left it forgotten...

E-mail to someone else #29

Just what makes a wallflower? Is it appearance or personality? You think I'm not a wallflower because of appearance. He thinks I'm not a wallflower because of personality. I think I am a wallflower because of both. Isn't it funny the three people who know me best all think something different?

E-mail to myself #29

Perfectionist. You think everything you have to do has to be perfect. But anything you do, no matter how good it is, to you is always flawed. Silly fool, you're never going to meet your expectations of you.

E-mail to you #12 (never sent)

At that moment, you should have seen I was fragile. But there you came with your words, not meaning to be cruel, but cutting straight through me all the same. And I ran, like I usually do when you hurt me like that. And I almost kept running. But I was cold. And tired. And it was very, very late.

E-mail to someone else #28

Another song quote: "Don't think I'm blind because I close my eyes." From Girl by the Wild Colonials. Remember that line. I am not blind. I see more than you can ever imagine. I know more than you think I know. Treat me like an idiot, and you'll find out you're the idiot in the end. Don't say I didn't warn you.

E-mail to someone else #27

Men are blind. Thank cats. Maybe I am playing with fire, but if I am, it is only a candle flame, not a bonfire. Trust me. This is one game I'm good at. And it's one game I've never let get out of control before.

E-mail to someone else #26

Again, you tell me I dream too much. Call my eyes vague. Accuse me of running away from reason. And maybe sometimes it's true. But you think life should be looked at head on. I believe in sideways. In upside down. Watch me in a crowd sometime, you'll see. I approach everything at an angle.

February 3, 2002 2:19 a.m.

Rum and coke and robot pictures do not mix. I need to remember this next time. You think I need to not play with packing foam anymore. But didn't you see the resemblance between us? We both have... never mind. I think I need to go to sleep... I need to remember what it's like to laugh this much the next time I forget to laugh.

E-mail to someone else #25

Yes, still waters do run deep. Still waters also make for good swimming. Just be careful you don't drown.

January 23, 2002

Pickles, the Firecat, knew he would do great things, because he had big paws. But my paws, er, hands are tiny. What great things can I do?

E-mail to someone else #24 (never sent)

Stop telling me these horror stories! They say ignorance is bliss, well let me be ignorant for a change. I know these things wound you. But if you're not going to change them, don't tell me about them, not when there's nothing I can do about it except lose sleep. People do horrible, cruel things. This I know. This I've seen. And no, I'm not trying to wear rose-tinted glasses. Not now, not ever. I just don't need to hear the details you're giving. Sometimes I wish I wasn't such a bleeding-heart, but I like that I can care so much. And sometimes I'm afraid I'll lose that. How many nightmares can a person have before they become immune?

E-mail to myself #28

He called her pretty. Told her she was cute. Acted like he thought other men would want her. And he was so convincing, she almost believed him. But now he won't look at her. Won't touch her. So she knows he lied.

E-mail to you #11 (never sent)

There is not an answer for this question. If I knew what you wanted, I could maybe find an answer. I don't know what you expect from me, but I know that I cannot give it to you. What would you think if I spoke my thoughts out loud? Or maybe I do that anyhow, so I should ask what you would think if I didn't speak my thoughts. Maybe I don't want to know what you think. Ha! I'm tired of being the bad guy. Did you ever think that maybe you're just as wrong as I am?

E-mail to myself #27

Now, more than ever, I need to remember what I can do with words. With words, I can build a shield and steel plated armor. With words, I can convince the world there is no possibility of you. And if I use them wisely enough, I can almost convince myself. And if I don't, then I can supply an overabundance of words to fill the void your non-existence in my life leaves behind.

E-mail to someone else #23 (never sent)

The hardest thing I ever had to do was let you fall. The wounded look in your eyes almost broke what was left of my heart, but I had to turn and walk away. I caught you so many times before only for you to set yourself for another fall. In trying to save you, I was losing myself. And now you'll crawl away and lick your wounds, and you'll hate me. Hate me for abandoning you when you think you need me most. And maybe you're right in doing so. But maybe now you won't fall so much.

E-mail to you #10 (never sent)

Yes, we counted in the New Year, champagne in hand. As midnight slipped into place, there was a wild frenzy of glasses clinking together and lips fumbling to meet. I think I threw half of my champagne on someone as I tried to kiss you and toast with them at the same time, but if I did, they didn't notice or mind. And all that mattered to me was your lips, wetted, and chilled, the champagne still sweet on your tongue. And I thought: yes! This is what I am celebrating!

E-mail to myself #26

She spends her life grieving for things that haven't even happened yet. But if she's prepared for you, you'll never catch a glimpse of sadness about her. Catch her unawares, and you'll see that the sorrow in her eyes makes the word melancholy seem weak. One man tried to reach her. She knew she would only lose him and so she grieved so much for him he almost thought he was dead.

E-mail to you #9 (never sent)

A quote by Violent Femmes: "I always felt that I was different. I always thought that that was good." And so did I, until I met you. Your quest for normalcy and your opinion that different is bad diminishes me. I am different. Sometimes I'm strange. You're denial of this won't make it go away. But you make me feel bad for wanting to stay this way. You make me hide some of myself from you because I know you would not understand it. But you won't change me. No one's ever been able to do that.

E-mail to you #8 (never sent)

Sometimes I feel like I could disappear from your life and you wouldn't even notice. It's not that I expect to be the center of your world, and nor do I expect you to be the center of mine. But it would be nice to feel a little more important than yesterday's newspaper. I want to know that you really hear me, really see me. But maybe I expect too much from you. After all, you are only male.

E-mail to someone else #22 (never sent)

You've made me think about scars. About childhood. The physical scars are minor; the worse one is hidden between my index and middle finger on my right hand, and I'm the only one who ever sees it. The emotional scars are another story. Do you think they make us ugly? Today's a fragile day. Today I feel damaged. Tomorrow I'll remember I'm stubborn and that nothing gets me down for too long. But today, there're only scars and memories. Or are they one and the same?

E-mail to myself #25

He's a messenger. With his wild eyes and rough hands, he's wreaking havoc on my life. His words are burning holes through my blockades and there's naught I can do but watch them fall. All I've worked and fought for torn asunder with an upward curve of his lips. Shall I listen to his message, or will I cover my ears and shake my head 'no'? I have to remember; I can deny the undeniable.

E-mail to myself #24

You love it when he lies on top of you, leaving you slightly breathless. It makes you feel grounded, tangible. With his hands tangled in your hair, he keeps you from looking away, from pretending he isn't there. And it's these moments that remind you he is not a little boy. Not a toy for you to use and throw away.

November 26, 2001 5:05 p.m.

The sky was amazing when I left work this evening. It was still light enough out for the sky to appear blue, and deep pink clouds surrounded a moon edging its way closer to full. After a day dealing with people who ranged from confused to idiotic to just plain nasty, it was nice to be confronted by such a simple beauty. But I guess you had to see it. My words don't do it justice.

E-mail to someone else #21

It's a habit I've developed recently of always staring into people's eyes while talking to them. I think it makes them uncomfortable. I don't know why I do it, if it's a power play or not, or just that I'm not really paying attention, but if I focus my eyes on theirs it appears that I am. It's interesting to watch people's reaction to it. Most of them meet your eyes, slide their glance away, look back, down, up, back... And I wonder how I would react to someone doing the same to me.

E-mail to you #7 (never sent)

I do have some happy memories from my childhood. I thought you should know this. I remember my father waking us up in the middle of the night to take us out to an empty field far from the city lights to watch meteor showers. It's on these nights, in these desolate fields, that I learned to dream. That I learned, maybe there was a way out of there. When looking up at that clear night sky and being presented with the only way I can picture infinity, it wasn't hard to imagine it being different. Or me being different. And to this day, night skies fill me with wonder. Make me dream.

E-mail to everyone else (never sent)

Do I scare you? If you were smart, I would. Everyone always calls me sweet. They trust me. Would never think I could lie. Idiots. Every once in a while, I'll slip, and they get a glimpse of something else. A side that likes vengeance. A part that would not care, almost wishes, there was no such thing as love. Someone for whom right and wrong is not an instinct, but a neutral choice. And it frightens them, but they always come back. Because I am sweet. They can trust me. And I'm almost painfully honest. For the most part.

E-mail to you #6 November 10, 2001(never sent)

You laughed at me for saving that plant you left out on the balcony to die. (You would have laughed even harder if you had seen me dragging the damn thing inside. Next time I'll put more clothes on...) You think I'm silly for feeling sorry for a plant, and maybe I am. But every time I looked outside, I saw it sitting there, big and ugly and alone. And tonight, while watering our other plants, I looked out at its sad drooping leaves and I knew I couldn't let it die. Not that way. So laugh all you want, I know I'm an idiot. The plant is still big and ugly but at least someone loves it. I guess the next battle will come when we decide to move and you want to leave it behind...

E-mail to myself #23

What I want, I can't have. But it doesn't really bother me, because the reality never lives up to the fantasy. In the fantasy, every second, every movement, every breath counts. Reality has too many pauses where nothing happens and boredom sets in. And by my own strange quirkiness, the fantasy is not always less cruel than the reality, just a better form of it. I think. But, believe me, I never confuse fantasy with reality. Only a fool would do that.

E-mail to someone else #20

Why do I still feel like I'm only playing house? That everything I do is only temporary? I guess in a sense it is only temporary, and I am just playing house. But when does it all become real? If the answer is marriage and kids, I think I'll just stay temporary.

Saturday, October 27, 2001

Seven years ago, on the weekend before Halloween, we met on a retreat Lynette had drug me to. You helped me carve a pumpkin (I had never carved a pumpkin before and was quite baffled). While hollowing out the pumpkin, we intentionally let our hands slip and touch. Who would have thought pumpkin goo could be so... um, yeah. That evening, we walked along the beach away from the others. They say the sunset was beautiful, but we didn't see it. All first kisses should be that magical. We still disagree on who seduced who that weekend. But I know it was you. I was too young and innocent then...

E-mail to someone else #19

Crazy? No, not yet. Besides, it won't be a man who pushes me over the edge. Men have never had that much power over me. And what do you mean, premature? My mid-life crisis was just on time! Sheesh. You just wait; you'll be 31 next year! Wait until then, and then we'll talk.

E-mail to myself #22

Annoyed, I asked 'Why are you always skating on thin ice?' He replied 'Why are you always creating it?' In a battle of words, he rarely wins, but this time he disarmed me. Without the words to win the battle, I conceded him victory with a rueful grin. Which turned into a laugh. And later, a deeper thought: Maybe I do tend to keep the ice too thin too often. It's very effective in keeping people at a distance. So now he's crossed the ice, but there's always the wall and the maze and the monsters...I'm very good with barriers.

E-mail to someone else #18

Be careful, I'm not what you think I am. I'll steal your words and use them against you. I'll spin you around and leave you reeling. I'll twist you up and knock you down. And while you're down, I may or may not kick you. Don't you know, you silly boy, you don't stand a chance against me; I've just given you the illusion that you do. And when you find yourself laid low, I'll extend to you my hand. And with a sweet, sweet smile, I'll gently remind you, "Don't you ever underestimate me you son of a bitch!"

E-mail to myself #21

Go away change. I'm not ready for you. I don't even like you, so I don't know why you keep hanging around. You think that I need you, secretly desire you, but let me tell you: you're wrong! And yet... maybe I crave you and want you, will not ever tell you, so leave me alone. I love you and hate you, seek you and flee you, fear you and need you. Go away change. Come back tomorrow, maybe I'll be ready for you then.

E-mail to someone else #17

You're sad. Lost. Frightened. You've been fucked up, screwed over, knocked around, and slapped down so much you have no idea who you are. I always thought I could be your superhero and save you from all that, but I can't. Some friend I've turned out to be. All I can do is listen. And hope that you know I love you more than anything I own (and that even includes Hobbes). And thank you for being there for me when I was fucked up, screwed over, knocked around and slapped down. We'll make it through this as well.

E-mail to someone else #16

You amaze me. You've done and created so much it astounds me. I, on the other hand, have done very little. I grew up focused so completely on survival that I've never learned to look beyond the day-to-day mentality. But I guess not everyone can be wonderful, some people have to be ordinary. Maybe one day I will do something to be proud of. Something worthy. And maybe someday someone will tell me I amaze him or her. That's one of the best things about life: it can be changed.

Friday, October 5, 2001

He makes me smile, isn't that enough?

E-mail to you #6 (never sent)

Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the one who is broken. And maybe that's why I can't always tell love from hate. But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's like that for everyone. Maybe there's no difference between love and hate and I'm the only one who hasn't accepted this. Maybe I expect too much. Maybe you want too much "unconditional". Maybe I don't want to be what you want me to be. Maybe I don't want to be at all. There's just too many maybes for someone who likes things concrete.

E-mail to someone else #15

I thought of you as we drove through the Highlands of Scotland. There's something to the wildness, the aloofness of those mountains that called to me. Knowing you, I think you would feel the same.

September 19, 2001

There will be no updates for almost 2 weeks as I will be on vacation. If something should happen, there will be no entries ever again, unless I become, literally, a ghost writer. See you in October!

E-mail to you #5 September 17, 2001 (never sent)

Don't you see what I'm doing? After all of these years, can't you tell? On Wednesday we'll be flying to London. The emotion I'm masking with anger is fear. You of all people should have guessed that. Yes, I've been snarling at you for the littlest things. I can't show fear, fear makes you weak, marks you for easy prey. What I learned growing up is that if you show fear, you don't grow up. Always, when frightened, I've come back swinging. And I'm frightened now. Unfortunately you're the only one here for me to swing at.

September 15, 2001

Somehow it doesn't seem fair that the sky can be so blue. That flowers bloom and children laugh. It just doesn't seem fair.

September 13, 2001

There are no words to describe yesterday, so I won't even try. Today, I am exhausted. I fought for my humanity and won, and am no longer filled with hatred. Just sorrow. Sorrow for what has happened and for what is yet to come. The people of New York amaze me with their spirit, I want a tee-shirt that reads "I love NY". I still stare at the TV, hoping to hear of impossible rescues, looking for that glimmer of hope in a grim world.

September 11, 2001

I think something is broken inside and I'll never be warm again. I hate this world and the evils people do.

E-mail to myself #20

Let's talk about the weather. Dark clouds are piling up, taking over, and thunder is growling ominously in the distance. People scurry from cars to buildings to cars, eying the skies suspiciously. And the storm, a brave soldier, slowly marches on. A sudden wind sends a smattering of leaves fleeing from its path. It tugs at my skirt and hair, like an insistent child or a jealous lover, not willing to be ignored. I am impatient for the rain but the clouds are greedy today and refuse to let go. So I wait, close my eyes and listen to the thunder promise "Soon..."

E-mail to someone else #14

They think me gullible. They spin their cotton candy lies and reach out to me with sticky fingers, spilling words off their sugared tongues. But I've been kissed before, by mouths both sweet and bitter, and found the bitter more to my liking. Am I na&#iuml;ve? Maybe. But did you stop to think that maybe I'm doing my own spinning? Wide-eyed does not always equal innocent.

E-mail to myself #19

You don't know what he is. I do. I've met him before, lifetimes ago. I don't think even he fully understands what he is, but he knows he's different. And so do I. The eyes always give it away. When he looks at me, it scares me, so I try not to meet his eyes. With his dark, unfathomable eyes he could read every word I've ever thought. I can feel him look at me: sometimes a caress, other times a slap, every time a little closer. Every time, pulling me in. He'll eventually figure out what I am.

E-mail to someone else #13

Timing. Just when he walked by the sun's light streamed through my window, illuminating me. He paused and when I looked up and saw him, he swallowed then stammered 'You look like an angel.' With a small smile, and arched eyebrows, I shook my head and went back to reading. Only he would compare me to an angel.

E-mail to someone else #12

You lied, yet again. But it doesn't surprise me. I knew you were lying the whole time the words were spilling out of your mouth. I had hoped that this time you were telling the truth, but you lost the ability to disappoint me way too long ago. Oh, you painted a pretty picture but pretty pictures come two for one with you. You think you're such a good liar, but the only one you're fooling is yourself.

E-mail to you #4 (never sent)

Secrets. Everyone has them, right? If you're going to hoard secrets, bury them deep. So deep your mind won't dredge them up every day just to dwell on them. Tamp them down firmly so they won't escape on their own. And always remember, just because they're buried it doesn't mean they're treasures. Secrets. Don't you sometimes wish you knew mine?

E-mail to myself #18

Dreamer, dreamer, dreamer, always with your head in the clouds, will you ever face reality? To you everything's a story, something you can shut the book on or turn the page. Now, they don't understand, do they?

E-mail to myself #17

The solidity is an illusion. The whole is made up of fragments, the fragments made up of splinters. And maybe somewhere in those splinters is a sliver of what once was real. Look closer; you'll see the fine hairline cracks where the fragments fit together. Look even closer, and maybe, just maybe, you'll see where the splinters meet. Look all you want, but you'll never find the sliver. Nothing's real anymore.

E-mail to someone else #11

Most people tend to forget that humans are animals after all, but the thought is never far from my mind. Sometimes I suspect I'm less than civilized, but only my closest ever see it, and even they don't recognize it for what it is. I know it involves emotions and control (or lack of it as the case may be). I remember the first time you heard me hiss and the expression on your face...Even still, the sound unnerves you.

E-mail to myself #16

As a child I would have nightmares about blizzards. I would dream of being lost and cold, hearing my brother cry with no way to protect him. You were the cloud blocking the sun. I can't tell anyone what I learned from you when I was four. During harsh winter days you were at your worse, trying to prove you could be colder than nature. Outside, you would drag my brother bare-butt through the snow, potty training made easy. Everyone else closed their eyes, I kept my eyes open.

Thursday August 9, 2001

Goodbye Callie Cat. I've loved you for almost half of my life, but fifteen years was not enough, and I want you back. Goodbye.

E-mail to someone else #10

I think one of the reasons he started drinking is because he has a memory like mine, and with our childhood, that's the worse possible memory you could have. I know what I remember, and I think of him, he's two years older and he remembers more. It's horrible, but sometimes I used to envy him, envy that he could forget that way. And even worse, sometimes I hated him for what he's become, for being so weak. The whole thing wears me out.

E-mail to myself #15

They always ask, how can you not believe? And I have to respond how can I? Where's your proof? Don't talk to me about vague concepts and impracticable theories. Give me something solid, show me. With very few exceptions, I can't believe what I can't see, and faith is a very strange concept. Faith? Ha!

E-mail to someone else #9

Walking contradiction, I'm a good example of 'the grass is always greener' syndrome. When in I want out, when out, I want in. Change scares me, routine bores me. Look at me, please stop looking at me. If the unknown leaves me in such a panic, why am I always searching it out? Is it at all possible to be an extroverted introvert? Oh my god, I think I'm a cat...

E-mail to myself #14

Dreamer. Between the stars and fireflies reflected on the surface of the pond, I created another world. He said 'You don't need another world, this one is beautiful enough.' And I wondered which one of us was the bigger dreamer.

E-mail to someone else #8 (not yet sent)

Wide eyed, I watch your lips move in effort to form words I will understand. I tilt my head slightly to the side, quickly suppressing a smile. Everyone else has already figured out that this is just a game I play, that I'm really not so na&#iuml;ve. But you, you still think you're smarter than I am, so I think I'll keep the wool over your eyes just a little bit longer.

E-mail to you #3 (as usual, never sent)

There is no reason for this insanity, and somehow I find that comforting. If I had a dime for every time someone has told me 'Think with your head, not with your heart', well, I wouldn't be rich, but at least I could afford bus fare out of here. In a fight versus flight world, I usually flee, and even when I do fight, I'm running away inside. You should be glad when I'm angry with you, and vocal about it. It means I'm still there. When I'm silent, it means I've withdrawn to some dark recess in my mind, and you're going to have to move mountains to reach me. Bitter, bitter, bitter. I thought I was over all that. Oh well, better bitter than empty.

E-mail to myself #13

Restless, I'm the time before the storm when the wind picks up and the sky darkens. You are the storm, lightening flashing, sweet, cold rain sluicing over the cracked earth. She is the grass, the trees, green again when the sun pulls itself from behind our leaded clouds. He is the sun, burning up the earth, taking back the rain. And here we go again...

E-mail to someone else #7

That is what you always think, but to me it shows you are not thinking at all. You think you are open minded and nonjudgmental, but if you really are, how come you never believe I can change? You think me motivated by revenge, always filled with the desire for getting even. And it's true, I do like things to be fair and just, but the days when my middle name was Spite are long gone. It's the same with both you and he. Both of my closest are turning out to be the ones who are the most unforgiving. But then, I guess it is always easier to forgive those who aren't so close to you. Betrayal hurts more when it comes from those you love.

Thursday July 26, 2001

What's haunting me right now is the dead cat on the side of the road, where I turn for work. Poor kitty, you died with no one there to comfort you. Does anyone besides me mourn you? Can someone take the image of its blood stained paw stretched out stiffly towards the curb away from me? I close my eyes, and it's all I see. Maybe if I fill my head with thoughts of you, I'll see only you. Maybe if you were here to hold me right now you could take the sadness from my eyes. And maybe, just maybe, if you kissed me enough, all I will dream of tonight is you.

E-mail to someone else #6

What am I doing in a middle-class world? Drug busts, drive-bys, prostitutes, over-doses, gang fights, rape, suicides...what were the after school activities for your neighborhood? Am I a success story because I escaped? In a neighborhood not too far away there was another girl like me, who preferred writing to shooting up, and reading to whoring. Branded a snob, they caught her alone one night and her life was never the same. Good girls don't, unless they're forced to. Does this give you a better idea of where I come from, and why I seem so strange in your whitewashed little world?

E-mail to someone else #5 (never sent)

Whenever I drive away from your house I want to cry, no matter how pleasant the visit. Your life is a house of cards and everyone knows houses of cards always collapse. Dysfunction junction. Why can't you see it's not too late to change?

E-mail to myself #12 (never sent...just kidding)

Why do I feel this way? I don't understand! I don't. Can you put my words to music? Would it be a pretty song? Too many questions in too short of a time will overload your mind. Can someone please take back the memories? La, la, la, la, la, la...I'm not listening! The real question isn't how far will you take it, it's how far will I let you take it. And what will be my downfall, a glance or a word? I'm supposed to be immune to this, you know. Maybe you're too intense and I'm too frightened (or the other way around). I'm waiting for you to touch me, but I'm afraid when you do I'll shatter. I don't understand.

E-mail to you #2 (never sent)

Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can rip your heart out. We throw words back and forth like darts, each trying to get a higher score. To my advantage, I'm a champion at the game; I know just what to say to hurt. To your advantage, if my first attack doesn't knock you out, I'm extremely vulnerable. And I know I'm the aggressor in this, that you're the defender. One thing I learned from childhood was to hurt them before they could hurt me, and it doesn't make it right, but old habits are long in dying. Yet it seems time is blunting my edge; I rarely go for blood anymore.

E-mail to someone else #4 (never sent)

I know. And I like it, but it's wrong. And because I like it, I won't do anything to stop it, unless it gets too intense, and then I'll run away as fast and far as I can because that's what I do best. It's only an illusion, and I'm not who or what you think I am. I never have been. I never will be.

Sunday, July 15, 2001 (3:00 p.m.)

Tangled, sweaty sheets and a sleepy smile from you. Now, wasn't this more fun than cleaning house?

E-mail to myself #11

I think it's about feeling alive. I use to dream of being a statue made of cold, gray stone. I use to beg to be empty. There have been times when I thought I was. But then something comes up and I can feel my control slipping. And that's when I start to come to life. Emotions are tricky things, if you let them, they'll rip your life to shreds. But I guess I like them after all. Life would be boring were it all gray. I think it's about feeling alive, and thank you for reminding me of that.

E-mail to myself #10

He's looking for a savior, drowning all of his considerable sorrows and any other excuse to place a drink in his hand. What he doesn't realize is whenever he hits the bottle, it hits him back harder. And now he's a dirty little secret, the family skeleton, and we must play make-believe and pretend it isn't so. You make me so tired, I cannot think.

E-mail to someone else #3

Do you want to know why I never liked you? You have no passion. You've never taken your shoes off and ran through the pouring rain just for the pure joy of it. You've never admired the moon, or made a wish on a shooting star (no, don't explain to me what they really are...) You've never played tug-a-war with a large dog (and lost), or slept with a cat curled up where your knees bend. You've never spent hours skipping rocks, not caring if they skipped or just made a loud splash. You think Dandelions are just weeds, and kids movies are just for kids. You've never fallen in love one minute and out the next. Passion. Some people never learn, you have to live life like you mean it.

E-mail to someone else #2

Do you think we'll always be bleeding hearts? Or will we eventually grow callous? I like to pretend I don't care, that I'm heartless and cruel, but then you'll find me crying over a broken winged lightening bug and my image is blown. But take my advice, develop a blas&#eacute; mask to wear, keep the sorrow from your eyes...if they see it, they'll use it against you. And the ones who claim to love you are sometimes the worse. So when they are hurting you, repeat over and over 'I don't care, I don't care, I don't care' it may never be true, but at least it will block out their voices, and preserve what sanity you may have left. But maybe I say too much...

E-mail to you (never sent)

Commitment. We're both so afraid of it, it's a wonder we've lasted so long. I'm starting to think 'maybe' is the most used word in our vocabulary. We love each other, but are we going to last? Are we together now because of habit? I used to think that if you loved someone you would give your life for him or her. Now I call that obsession. I remember when I first realized I loved you. We were eating dinner in a restaurant and I said something off the wall and you called me weird and I asked you why was I weird. When you said 'Because you're with me' it was like the clich&#eacute; arrow piercing the clich&#eacute; heart and the word 'damn' kept echoing through my head, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But the only examples of love I've ever had have been selfish ones, so what do I really know of love? My usual way of starting a relationship was by telling the poor fool that I would never love him; that I couldn't. Somehow, I forgot to tell you. Do I think you're a fool? Sometimes. But it's one of the things I love about you.

E-mail to myself #9 Monday, July 2, 2001

Days like this are pure magic. It's the kind of day that makes you want to lie in the grass and watch the clouds roll by, even though you have 50 million other things you should be doing. Close your eyes and let the shadows from the clouds roll over you and you can imagine they're dragons. The cool breeze will send shivers through you, but he'll put his arms around you. His warm breath on the back of your neck will cause more shivers than the breeze ever did, but things will heat up...Oh well, enough daydreaming, it's time to get back to work.

E-mail to someone else #1

You ask, can't you ever ramble on about anything happy? I can try, but I don't know how successful I'll be. What makes me happy? Cats, good books, witty conversation, candle-lit bubble baths, castles, creating things, writing, Calvin Whiffle Ball, music, unexpected compliments (he did what no one else has ever done and called my eyes pretty), making people laugh, strange and unusual things, good wine shared with even better friends...Okay, you see, now I'm getting sentimental. Maybe the next time I see you, I'll even smile for you.

E-mail to myself #8

Borderline insomniac. Lying next to you, I listen to the steady rhythm of your breathing. I know it's sometime after 2 a.m. but sleep escapes me. I close my eyes and create worlds in my head, trying to block out everything else. This is how I go to sleep every night, lost in these worlds. When you're away, I don't even try. I log on and haunt the Internet for hours or read until I'm so exhausted I have no choice but to sleep. And the sleep I do get is broken up by dreams. Little white pill, when desperate, I resort to you. But typical for me, I hate you and the darkness you bring. You send me so completely under, I can't bring myself out of the nightmares.

E-mail to myself #7

Do you think I'll ever get over it? That there will be a time when a smile from a stranger won't make me go cold? I call it shyness, but if you want the truth, it's just plain fear. For three months, he followed me, slipping blood-covered notes under my door in proclamation of his undying love for me. For almost ten years I've given him a certain amount of control over my life, and he doesn't even know it. And I'm sure I'm nothing to him now, that he's stalking someone new. But in a way, he's still stalking me. The police, my friends, they formed a wall around me protecting me physically, but they couldn't do anything for inside. Therapy? What I thought I heard him saying was it was entirely my fault for being nice to someone who couldn't handle it. His advice boiled down to 'don't be nice'. But I was never meant to be mean. I use to be fearless; I'll never be that again. But maybe I'm starting to take back control. Maybe this time I won't run away. Hide and Seek is a game for kids, I think its time I stop playing it.

E-mail to myself #6

I tried to forget about you. But you (trickster, jester and fool) found your way back. The laughter in your eyes belies a darker mind, and I've often heard them say 'The wisest man knows just when to play the fool.' With your smile you took my freedom, then with a word whispered in my ear, you set me free, knowing you could always smile again. Placing your finger to my lips, you said 'Shhh...' and I did. But know this trickster, I'm a fast learner, and someday, the joke could be on you.

E-mail to myself #5

Trust you? I think it would be easier to catch lizards in the rain. But in my own fashion, I trust you more than I do most. I've let you inside barriers I've never lowered for anyone else. Why do people always want inside the barriers? Do they think it will be a rich oasis, a verdant Eden? It's more like a war- torn, starving village. But the people there, though they may have nothing, are still willing to fight to keep you out. You say I can trust you, and I do, with my life. Tell me that you'll never hurt me and I'll start looking for that Trojan horse you keep hidden somewhere. Now, take me as I am or walk away, but stop trying to scale the few barriers I have left. You wouldn't like what you find there.

E-mail to myself #4

This is not what it appears to be. I wish I could explain it better. Limbo. Could it be I've gotten used to living in it? I once said I could not survive in limbo, but now I believe my whole life has been nothing but. Make no mistake, living in limbo does not mean you are blind to the world around you. But you do sort of surround yourself with a wall of apathy. Projection, deflection, will anything really keep me safe? I was recently reminded of my golden rule, 'never let anyone close enough to disappoint you.' He said lower your expectations, and I replied, they were never that high to begin with. I've a sneaky feeling I could now break free from this trap, but I think I'll let fear keep me in place a little longer.

E-mail to myself #3

She used to be like us, you know, a bleeding heart, vulnerable to all of life's miseries. But now she calls it God's plan and coats her emotions with faith. And while she is certainly not heartless, she's braced herself against the little things that can tear you apart if you let them. She thinks her faith protects her, like the peel of the orange protects the fruit inside. What she doesn't realize is that an orange still rots inside its shell. The insides of an orange can either eat away the outside, or dry up completely, shrinking and hardening, leaving an empty husk.

E-mail to myself #2

I don't really have anything to say, but I want you to know what I feel. Icky. No other word can describe it quite as well as that. At least it's better than feeling haunted. I almost always feel like there is something haunting me, but I don't know what it is. If you run into me during that time, you'll notice it. I'll stop and talk, but the whole time, my eyes will be looking over your shoulder, while my hands fidget nervously with themselves. And I'll often duck my head down so my hair falls forwards and shields my face from view. This keeps me from having to look you in the eyes. I'm afraid to look into your eyes, what if I see that you know something is gone? And there is certainly something missing, something intangible, and I'm not sure I'll ever find it. I'm not sure I really want to find it. Some people say it's my Gemini nature, the sign of the twins that leaves me with something lost. But I never believed my fate to be guided by stars and the alignment of the planets. My dreams will always reflect its loss, filling my nights with vague allusions of what it is I can't find. In the middle of the night is when it feels so much closer than before, and I alternate between craving enlightenment and cowering under my blankets, pulse racing. Haunted. My whole life is a ghost story.

E-mail to myself #1

If I tell you I love you will you laugh, or run for the hills babbling about the Mars invasion? I found you under a rock and kept you in my pocket for a day or two. What I didn't know is that you had teeth to bite me with when I put you in my pocket. Now there is a hole in my pocket and my leg, where you bit me in insult before you made your escape. I think I should have squashed you the day I found you, but you cast your so sad gaze at me and hid your teeth behind a pout.

Exercise 1-Rambling

Where is the rhyme, where the reason. One woman's dream man is another woman's nightmare. Could you ever change, or does it even matter. Words don't mean a thing when another's life is empty. It's a cry and a shame that no one cares at all. Fields of flowers withered by the sun and images of nothing fill my mind. If you don't understand, I can't tell you. Why don't you ever hear the silence?

Exercise 2-Sun

The sun was a distant yellow ball and I wondered where the child was who lost it. Then I shook my head and reminded myself that the sun was nobody's toy, unlike the moon. Man is arrogant; he walks wherever he wants to, with little care of sacredness. I used to love the moon, but now when I look at it all I see is man's footprints. It can't be too long before they have a McDonalds up there, can it? But not the sun, that glorious ball of fire. Take all of the rage of every person alive and give it form, and you'll find the heat of it still won't match the sun's.


I press my face against the window, staring out at the bleak winter landscape. Once again, I am looking for you. I move my hand in an arc, wiping away the mist my warm breath has created on the cold glass. Stark winter trees wave their spindly branches back, a greeting I ignore. There is a flash of red and I think, 'Look, the trees are bleeding', before realizing it is only a cardinal scavenging for his dinner. Your dinner sits on the table behind me, cold and congealed. A little like my heart feels inside me. Big, fat flakes fall in a lazy fashion, slowly covering the ground. A few flakes stick to the window a moment before melting away, making it seem like my reflection is crying. Gusts of wind sporadically barrage the house like a light drawn moth. Headlights swing into view and for a brief second, my heart beats faster. If this is you, I won't be angry, I won't...but the car passes by. I think I will wait ten more minutes and then get on with my life. But I know an hour will find me in the same spot, some twisted indoor snowman, still waiting for you.

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