I'll be honest: I had no Christmas spirit this year. It snowed in Georgia on Christmas Day, what more should I want? Not that. Christmas hasn't been a beloved holiday of mine for a while, mainly because I hate hearing the same Christmas songs over and over and over again. Never work in retail in December. It will crush your spirit. I've always tried to avoid the commercial aspect of the holiday and remember that it is the celebration of Christ's birth, but I get so frustrated and turned off by "Christmas Time" that I can hardly find it in my heart to be thankful. This year it has been really hard for me to see past my own personal problems.

This week I've been really tired and nauseous, which really adds to the Christmas cheer. Thankfully my grandpa and I have managed to sync our naps so that we're able to spend time together when we're awake. Getting sick and being around everyone else's healthy, happy selves hasn't done a thing for my mood.

I've found the solution to lonely depressed teens who are too obsessed with the feeling of pain in cutting to quit. Buy/rescue a cat and when it misbehaves try to punish it with a sink. Hello angry claws. Hello twisting cuts and hot burning feeling. Social awkwardness avoided. I'm sure you'll blossom into a healthy cat lady anyway.

Last night I couldn't sleep so I finished the book that I started before "bedtime." Fitz tried to cuddle all night to make up for tearing my skin open. He tried to cuddle with my neck which wasn't pleasant but his sleepy little face on my pillow was too sweet. I really miss cuddling...with people...especially since it's gotten so cold outside and there are all those grossly cute couples on TV. I hate all this "The Holidays are a special time..." business and do not look forward to hearing about any engagements when school starts back up.

I don't remember how I was so good at being single before. I still want all the things that come with relationships. I still want to snuggle and hold hands and kiss and share stories. I'm envious of every cute winter plans I hear. I would have been happy doing nothing exciting. Now I would be happy if time would speed up. I have nothing exciting to look forward to. I'm scared and stressed about graduating and making the right decisions. Right now I'm just looking forward to my family going home and finishing whatever work I have left so that I can spend the rest of my break sleeping. Sleeping in. Napping. Reading whole novels at night. Rinse and repeat.

I should cut TV out altogether. Things on TV remind me of all the things I had planned to do. Wear more short skirts. Hide cute notes. Learn how to cook a romantic meal. Learn how to make sweet drinks. Hold hands. Sleep in. Make breakfast for dinner. Hold late night dance parties in my underwear. Finish my cute mixtapes. Cuddle. Kiss in the snow. Get a kiss on New Years. What good does it do me to think of all of these things? Write it all down and save it for the next guy? That'll never happen. So how do I stop myself from remembering all these things? When will love songs not make me nauseous? Is there some drug out there that minimalizes emotions? Can I just cut down on the emotions, eat healthy, fake exercise, and avoid carbs, sodium, and sappy love songs?

Where's my copy of Bridget Jones's Diary? I should start there.

I feel like I keep getting dumped over and over again.


I feel like I keep stepping up to be punched in the stomach. My heart races and tears try to fall out and it gets harder to breathe. I try to think about who I can turn to but I just fall forward and collapse. And then everything is warm memories and a pain in the way your heart beats.

When I get better, when I manage to pick myself back up, I become a moth and flutter back for more. My feelings are persistent. They don't have a bedtime. They don't have a preference for indoors or outdoors.

They lay in wait inside memories that mean the most. And I don't think they'll ever go away.

I've never prayed this much about relationships or that part of my life before.

Other than the age old, Dear God, please don't let me die alone.
It's always a safe idea to add that to my prayers.

I'm not going to amend what I said, but after thinking about it some more, I have to say that in matters of "the dark times" you can only say so much about it on your own. No body can really say what will happen if they have someone to go through it with together. People can say how they feel on their own, but it's different when you are working together with someone. If you really want something, you will share the burden and take as much as you can bear. And if you really care for someone you will work your hardest to defeat "the dark times."

Do you remember that feeling you get when read a really good book or after watching an incredible movie? You walk in to it full of your own life problems and things to do and conversations to have but you leave feeling completely consumed. It happens after serious movies, like Seven Pounds, or those romantic comedies that weave a happy ending you could only dream of, like The Holiday.

I'm entranced. I'm consumed. Laurie Halse Anderson wrote the amazing book Speak, and after that miraculous book I am dedicated to reading anything she writes. So I picked up her 2009 piece, Wintergirls. I've never battled anorexia, which the book deals with, but I'm consumed by this girl Lia. Anderson's writing is raw and honest and unforgiving. I am drawn to books about these raw, honest, depressing to admit problems. E.R. Frank wrote the life altering book Wrecked, which specializes in how people cope after traumatic experiences, and after reading it I knew my writing had to have a purpose. I want to explain all those feelings people never talk about. I want a book to give someone hope.

I think my sick conditions have developed into a sinus infection, but I can't be sure because I couldn't get a doctor's appointment. I missed out on a chance to have fun with my friends and I had waited so long to see them. I decided to read but this book has latched on to the start of depressive feelings and is driving hooks into them.

I took a shower to clear my head but memories just surfaced in the clouds of steam. Hurtful memories. Thought provoking memories. The wrong kind of thoughts. Is it this house? Can I not escape my fears when I'm in this house?

There was this day in high school when all the girls in my group had boyfriends. There was this sudden pressure to get one if I wanted to fit in. Someone even made a comment that everyone had a boyfriend but me, and I should get one. Was I not already hoping for one?

The next day Sarah dumped her boyfriend. Within the week Red was single. I was so relieved. I had spent the past day rolling around their statement in my mouth. I was terrified that I would lose my friends to relationships, that with everyone coupled up I would be excluded. Judged and pitied until I found some dumb boy to partner up with. But the statement stuck with me.

Jillian needs to find a guy.
There's still so much about you that I love.
You look so cuddly.

These voices whisper to me through the steam. I try so hard to forget, but I clearly haven't mastered it. I can only stay in the shower so long before my fingers wrinkle.

Why can't I be stable? I used to think I needed prescription medicine for my depression. I feared it though, having to rely on a pill to find sanity. But I already do. My migraines rule over my life. If I don't take my pill in time, the migraine will consume me whole. Wrap itself tightly around my toes. Stretch over my chest. Play ping pong with the neurons in my head. It's just bad synapses. I don't need your made up logic to explain my pain. I just need this pill. Sanity. I even have to take a specific birth control pill because I'm so prone to migraines. My life is dictated by this pill. I'm always touching on this in my writing, but the responses signal that I'm alone in this terror/dependency on a little white pill.


I thought talking to this boy would make me happy. I thought if I just controlled everything I said I could make myself desirable again. But I'm too fucking honest. I can't control myself around him. I can restrain myself, sure, but I can't hide the truth. I'm not a person you can rely on to pull you out of the darkness. I am prone to it, I am inept. I slip and fall in puddles of insecurity. My sanity is a mirage created by little white pills.

Talking to a boy still makes me doubt myself. I think back to when I was his and I remember that belonging to someone made me feel so content. But I still had to take little white pills to find sanity. I always will. I write best when I'm clinging on to the thinning threads of sanity. That's why I want to be a writer, to expose the threads and find the switch that drops down a thick rope of sanity.

I can't hold on to these thoughts. I can't let them dwell in my bones. Maybe I've made enough progress to exempt me from seeing a therapist, but I still have to let it out. And once it's out I can look at cute pictures of kittens and eat delicious grandma made cookies.

I don't want to rush into a bad situation, but I want to see him again.

I finagled a filing job for over break with a decent pay. More than minimum wage. I'm pretty efficient at filing, probably because I enjoy it so much. I only have to work as many days as I have work left and I can choose which days I come in. Originally I was aiming to work into January, but I was concerned I would finish too early. Now I don't know if I can pace myself.

It's been much more normal talking to him these past few days, and that made seeing him less difficult. When I'm able to talk to him I am much better at forgetting the situation I'm in and I can just move through life much easier. Time moves faster for me.

This song takes far too long to get to the good part:

But fuck it, I love you no less
I'm going to feel like shit
By the time I get to you
Now the sky is turning blue
The stars, they disappear
One by one with daylight, dear
And yes, you're in my head
But that doesn't make you here
And I've lost all my friends
But you're the one I miss the most

As of now it appears I will not be working any hours this break. Please occupy my hours before I take a hike so long I end up in North Carolina.

Leslie and I had a really nice talk about grad school tonight. She opened my eyes up to the possibility of studying in England or in Ireland. There are some grad schools there that have a one year program. That would be a wonderful experience for me to open up my writing and explore new territory in my writing. It wouldn't be so hard to be away from my family and Fitz for one year as opposed to two or three when the opportunity allows me to gain so much.

At the same time I have to keep Fitz in mind. I would really rather stay in the South for grad school because I'd rather live in this climate than say in the Midwest's, but I'm open to change. Teaching a class or two for free tuition wouldn't be so bad either. I think I might enjoy teaching college English in a year or two. There are ways to make that fun.

Leslie also helped me examine who I am right now. I had a lot of trouble answering her questions, but I think I'm in the process of changing my perception of myself. Before I thought that no one could or would think highly of my writing, that I was persuing a useless major and I was going to end up lost on some side street again. I kept making future plans for myself without putting myself on the path for those plans. Going to Grad School for Creative Writing makes me scared shitless, but I'm okay with that. I'm swallowing this idea that I should let myself focus on my writing and see how far it can take me.

When it comes to the future I keep saying I don't know enough about myself or the situation to say where I'll be in ten years. But I've known all along that there are some undeniable truths about myself that I can't escape: Fitz and I will be living in a place that gets minimal snow; I will be writing, hopefully published, and if not I will be calling up all my connections to get published; I will still give blood at least once a year; I will find some way to give back to the community and be highly involved with that service, probably involving children; I will be making mix tapes of future music combined with the best of the past; I will own a fake Christmas tree with tons of homemade ornaments; I will still sing the most outrageous lyrics in the car; I will own a giant bookshelf and a large photo collection; and I will hold secret dance parties in my underwear late late at night and early in the morning before work.

Thankfully my mom is going to be fine but I'm nearly packed for home already. She slipped on the ice and I thought she might have broken her hip but thankfully it's just bruised. I was so scared when my Dad called me about it tonight. All I wanted to do was to go home and take care of her. Every time I've called her struggling with my current predicament, she's been nothing but supportive. She even came up over the weekend when I really needed her and bought me soup, played with my hair, and watched a silly movie with me. She even tried to buy me clothes to cheer me up. All I want to do is do the same for her.

I think that's something that's been really hard for me. My parents taught me to work hard for what I want and to not give up on what I love. All I want is to problem solve and fix things. But that is really hard to do when you're trying to give someone space and when you're trying to take some space. I need time but I want time to move faster for me.

Still, when everything happened with Fitz this week and then with my mom I just wanted to talk to him about it. That's to be expected. It just takes so much resistance to not try talking to him at night.

This song reminds me of Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros except textually it's much more simple. I know it's sung between a guy and a girl and there's the mentioning of love, but it makes me think mostly of Kaitlyn. No matter what I babble about she keeps offering to listen. She was this positive light when my depression made everything a darker shade and then she just continuously proved to be a good friend. I thought about it last night, and I think Kaitlyn might have given me the best mixes in my collection.

Nadia has been amazing and her voicemail has been my saving grace, but I can't describe our friendship with this song. It's not the right rhythm. She'd want something more upbeat. Something we could dance to. Something that didn't make her partly sad.

I've been thinking about songs and people and mixes a lot lately. The Best of Libellus was a really good Christmas present. It meant so much when I got it that at the time it helped foster feelings. I was thinking though, have I been present enough this past year to compile a second mix? Have I said anything worthwhile? I have seventeen days and how many tracks left?

I hate dreams. No matter how much progress I make in my waking life and no matter how awesome I do on a final, I still have these fully believable untrue dreams. I had a dream where he texted me and told me I was being insensitive and hurtful. In the dream I started to feel really bad and then I was like, "No, I've been trying to heal. I haven't been lashing out. AND you were the one who's been saying insensitive things." Even though dream me was right, I still woke up feeling bad for some reason. The feeling feels completely attached to him. This wasn't on my How To Rock a Final plan. I think I feel like this because I'm a pushover. I don't like being mean. It guilts me. Even if I should be trying to build a hard exterior.

I was so worried about today. I had two finals, one at 12 and a longer one at 3:30. I had to write a long essay for the 2nd paper that I was not looking forward to write. If I couldn't focus on studying, how would I do on my finals? The first final was whatever but I ROCKED the second final. I kicked it's ass! I'm pretty sure the final gave me endorphins. I am so happy and proud of myself! I really thought all of this stress was going to screw me over on my finals but I overcame it!!!!

I got most of my appetite back today so I think this calls for a celebratory Strongbow.

I think this is why girls make such strong bonds with each other. Personally I just don't have much luck at making friends with guys but I think it's because I try so much harder to be friends with girls. No matter how shitty your romantic partner can make you feel when they break your heart, you can't fully hate the idea of love and being in love. It's when you go through your darkest times that you realize who your real friends are but also when you realize how great friendship love is. I feel so loved by my female friends and how much they care about me. This may be finals week, usually the most stressful and self centered week for college students, and yet my friends who know what's happening in my life have been very supportive and on call whenever I need someone to talk to, when I need to cuddle or if I just need some company. Even if I haven't seen them in weeks.

I think the problem people face when they've realized they haven't become who they expected they'd be is that they think they are the sole contributor to their personal development. That it's the things they do and say that affect their growth. People should look outwardly more often. Perhaps then they would see that it is other people who shape your development as a person. It's the influence of others, the opportunities provided, the emotions shared. You're not going to stay the same person you were five years ago because you will adapt not only who you perceive you want to be but also what you want in life. I have no idea who I'll be in five years. I'm sure I'll be morally similar, maybe my interests will change and the people I surround myself with won't look the same as it does in college, but I know that I will only develop and mature. When I look back on this year I'll have a lot of fond memories and maybe a wave of emotion, but the sting of heartbreak and disappointment will be faded into something much more bearable.

I want to cut off my hair and get real ugly. No make-up, just perfect hair. I had perfect hair again today.

I met some girls tonight who are the tan obsessed type. Not the always ridiculously tan type, but the type that wants to have some color all year long. Melissa and I prized our pale skin. One of these new girls told me that I had a good complexion, for being pale, and that it worked on me. She would be happy to see that same pale color next summer, after I spend the winter wearing sweatshirts and socks and boots and colored tights and tons of layers.

Girls say being single is a good thing, you can do all the things you couldn't and you can go on a kissing spree kissing tons of new boys. I've already done that, I don't want to go back to that. I found what I want and it was never limiting. I was happy.

Mom says to listen to happy music to cheer me up. I know Lindsay would tell me to stay away from the Rilo Kiley. It pains my heart to even think about listening to Rilo Kiley, but I can't relate to happy music. I tried to find loud angry music, but I don't really have that. I burst out crying at the beginning of 99 Problems, so that will take some time to get back to. I couldn't get myself back into Camera Obscura for a long while but it felt perfect this afternoon.

People say to take time. Don't talk. Let things simmer and give people time to think about what's happened from a different frame of mind. But I can't stay silent. And I'd hate to become one of those sad girls who tells the internet all of her problems, but I don't give a shit as long as I have perfect hair.

Labels: Camera Obscura, dating, dating advice, fuck silence, hair cuts, pale, pale girls rule, perfect hair, Rilo Kiley

Oh wow, nights really are the worst. Your brain doesn't stop thinking and remembering and attempting to problem solve. My bed is damaged goods now. Too many important things happened there: the time he asked to date me, the time he told me he loved me, and now the time he broke up with me.

I've been thinking about those finals I have to take. Can I just write on the top of the page: My boyfriend broke up with me on Reading Day.

I'm just saying, can we weigh that into the equation when grading my essays that may not seem to flow from point to point thoroughly or if God forbid after 3 hours I still haven't finished writing because I can't block my brain to harmful thoughts? It's a lot of unforgiving pain to accompany all this terrifying end of the semester stress.

I realized today that Ryan Adams has had his heart broken so many fucking times. I used to love Come Pick Me Up. I felt like with a little bit of wine I could slip right into this song, belt it out whenever I needed to feel strong instead of weak. The air outside doesn't even feel cold. Just crisp. Lindsay said I'm really good at one liners in my writing. I write my best stuff when I'm depressed. I'm giving myself a month to let my heart breath and weep and lament. After that I'm crushing down on it with as much brutal force as abandonment issues will allow me.

Now all I can see is remnants of poor Ryan's broken heart. I mean his album titles SCREAM it: Heartbreaker. Love Is Hell. Love is hell? Oh c'mon Ryan, don't you mean love is Just like Heaven? NOPE. He was totally right.

Technicolor Girls will break your heart. I kept hearing it in my head when he left. It's the first song on my mix for break ups. I started to make it to give to someone else. A mix to break. A mix to break your heart. Now I want it to break my heart. I want my heart to shatter. If I don't have a heart, I can't feel any pain. My fingers are so cold.