time has passed. and i've had so much to say between then and now, but just haven't had the words. and i can honestly say thats the worst feeling in the world. having everything to say and no way to say it. well, thats me in the picture. in new york city. it was breathtaking. i felt a peace there- but a strange one. the city spurred and stirred and stripped and moved and shaked my soul and afterwards, on the flight home, i felt new. i'm starting to believe that life gives you what you need when you need it. and ineeded that- to feel new. i needed to feel like i had life beyond me, beyond the present, beyond my lonely life of a present. that a single life is much, much smaller than the wholeness of life. New York City taught me that. with all the people and all the parts it taught me to be a piece of a puzzle instead of the entire puzzle itself, which is what i had always expected myself to be. However, that's way to big a job for me, a human, a single life. and the puzzle of life transfers over time in such a vast way that nobody could ever possibly understand their singular importance in any human context. it is beyond us. the world is beyond us. i've learned to stop trying to figure it all out- because it's just impossible. and not in a "we can defy the impossible" sort of way. In an "it's actually completely impossible" sort of way. And i'm learning to accept that. i'm learning to accept that i cannot possibly be the puzzle because i cannot, first of all, live for all time because some amount of time has already passed for which I have not lived, and because I am human and humanity is so disgustingly limited. We are limited. But we are a part of many limits that together are unlimited.

If only I actually made sense.

I don't really know what to say tonight. About anything. But I'm compelled to write- write something. But you sort of need something to say in order to write. And I've realized that this has sort of become my diary. And I think, I think I'm ok with it. I think I'm ok with the fact that 16 different strangers are reading my innermost thoughts. That's sort of strange though, don't you think? That I won't tell a single living breathing named soul these thoughts, but I will pour them out online and allow faceless strangers to comment? I don't know the type of people I am allowing to see these thoughts- to hear them, so to speak. And maybe you can really hear them? The voice each and every one of you has made me out to be, ringing and echoing against your skull, maybe they have been heard.

I, I have been heard.

If only every single soul in this lonely world had that luxury.

I am, forever, grateful.

You know, I could really go on and on about how depressing and worthless my life is. How everybody and everything that matters to me, has decided I don't matter to them. But in this one fleeting moment, I won't. I won't complain that my best friend is really just a half-assed acquaintance and that I desperately want a boyfriend, but am too fat to have one. And that my mother hates me and that I hate my mother.Oh, and that I feel like my life is crashing in on me and nobody accepts me and that I look disgusting and that I need help and... This could go on and on. I could make it all perfectly poetic, and maybe, in some sickly way, beautiful. I could deceive you all and make myself look and seem almost god-like.
But I'm not. And my life isn't anywhere near poetic. And so I'm not even going to start- tonight, I've finished before I've started. This little self-pity fest, just for tonight, is done with. Over. Out the door.
And maybe, this one little decision on this one little gloomy night means that everything that went wrong, is finally about to go right.
Hope has shown its pale, adolescent face.

I left and returned as two different people. And it feels weird to be back. It feels weird to be thrown back into a mold of a life I created blindly and not for my pleasure. And now I have to live in it, and dance in it and smile in it. And the thing is, I don't fit my mold. For some reason, my heart aches. Maybe for the people I met while away, maybe for the person within myself that I left. Maybe for the life I'm about to go live now. Maybe it was for all of this and more. I can tell you one thing, though. I don't really know what is about to happen to me, and who is about to touch me. But I know I'm ready for what I wasn't before this trip. I'm ready for love, I'm ready for friendship. I'm staring at life with big, bright sixteen year old eyes and saying "Bring it on."

It's powerful. We are powerful. You, you are the most powerful person to have walked across this breathing earth. Power is between our ribs and in our toes.

Each of us has a place, a spot where our soul opens up, our heart literally cracking through our chest. Just opening, letting the light in. Some find this place in a lover, a friend, a person, a child. Others, in a musical instrument, a belief in God. Many find it in a paintbrush, or a pencil. But me, I found it in a convergence of latitude and longitude . And since I was eight, for a week each year, I come and came to this place and more and more, over the expansion of time, my heart opens as my mind clouds. I can't really tell what it is about the place, however. It could be the little shops, filled with delicately hand made jewelry, and fudge and works of art. Or maybe its the sunset, in all its glory shining across the water. Or it could possibly be the roads, practically touching the store fronts and cottages. But maybe it's the food, the abundance of delicate, delicious food. But I really don't know, and I'm confident I will never quite understand my absolute and unconditional love for this beautiful place. But thats the beauty in beautiful. We will all never quite know why this person, thing, place, continually cracks open our hearts more and more and even more than it did before. But this place is my other half, the missing part of my soul that fulfills me to this outstanding, incredible amount. Because within all its faults and downfalls and imperfections it is absolutely perfect. It kind of pains me though, that my other half is not a person, and that I have to break this expectation of finding a person, I feel like this for, because, really thats all I've ever wanted. But maybe, the plan is for a person to feel like this about me. I could be some persons other half, or "soulmate". But, I can never find a person I personally love this greatly, because I've found it, that thing, that just does it for me. And it's so sad and great at the same time, because within all my soul's returns to this earth, I truly, truly believe that each time- I have found this place. Within all my different names, and personalities and looks and sexuality's and every other human limitation, I have found my home, my connection to the being of human in this place. And I believe that so does every person, so does every soul have this same experience, this same finding of the part thats missing and its never changing, as your soul, through all its leaps and bounds- never changes. This, to me, this single belief and theory, makes more sense to me than any other belief system and religion and theory of life to ever have been shown to me. This, to me, is the destiny- the "life" of soul.

Come and open up your folding chair next to me
My feet are buried in the sand and there’s a breeze
There’s a shadow, you can’t see my eyes
And the sea is just a wetter version of the skies

Let’s get a silver bullet trailer and have a baby boy
I’ll safety-pin his clothes all cool and you’ll grafitti up his toys
I’ve got a perfect body, though sometimes I forget
I’ve got a perfect body cause my eyelashes catch my sweat
Yes, they do, they do…

Now i’ve been sitting on this abandoned beach for years
Waiting for the salty water to cover up my ears
But every time the tide come in to take me home
I get scared, and I’m sitting here alone
Dreaming of the dolphin song…

Maybe one day you will understand
I don’t want nothing from you but to sweetly hold your hand
Till that day just please don’t be so down
Don’t make frowns, you silly clown

Just come and open up your folding chair next to me
My feet are buried in the sand and there’s a breeze
There’s a shadow, you can’t see my eyes
And the waves are just a frothier version of the skies

There’s a shadow, you can’t see my eyes…

Regina Spektor- Folding Chair

i hate endings. hate. and even though its the last day of school, nothings really ending. maybe i just hate when i see time moving. and how people are all connected to that time. as much as we try to break the barriers of time, we are connected. and so when i see time moving and breaking and forming- i just can't take it. because i realize how trapped i am. and how trapped everybody else is. and then i realize- im the only one who sees it. and i feel so unbelievably alone. for once, i want to miss it. i don't want to see it happening. i want to be one of those people that are just so happy and excited that they miss the whole: wow, life is moving moment. but that will never be me. i've always got one eye on my life, and one eye on the universe.
sometimes, i swear i can hear people praying.
that was a joke.