In today's Rate The Pain scale I am a 9.5 in heartbreak, misery, and jealousy.
I had a really great weekend, a 2 or 3, but that was only temporary. Without any warning my heart turned back and I just absolutely miss him. My therapy appointment isn't until Thursday.

All the good advice my friends gave me just gets swept away when I miss him this much. There's so much I miss about him and so many good memories I can't get out of my head. Missing him this much makes me physically nauseous. And there goes my appetite again.

Today has been pretty good to me. It was super sunny and nice out today so my mom cleaned my car inside and out. June looks good! Mom got out that weird neon green scratch and she was finally able to get the coke(?) stains off my seats. Charlotte and Fitz put on a show today. Fitz really enjoys living with dogs and, of course, running wild up and down the stairs. I can't wait for him to have a doggy roommate and all the extra room to play in.

I miss sleeping in and then waking up feeling so relaxed. The cramps totally sucked though so I stayed in bed with a heating pad. I still haven't figured out this medical mystery, my appointment is Monday. I decided to use the newer friendship page feature on facebook to walk down memory lane with a certain boy. I knew it sounded like a terrible idea but I've been feeling really different this weekend. I'm definitely glad I did. It was nice to go back and see how good things could be. I wouldn't say it gave me a final sense of closure but it gave me much needed peace. Listening to Play It Cool Boy makes me feel like I'm coming home to my heart.

I'm so scared of moving away from the amazing friends I've made in this town. Despite all of the easily dissolvable friendships I ran across in my early years of college, I managed to find some really strong ladies and a few very supportive guy friends. I wouldn't be lying if I said I have a different supportive friend for every day of the week, but that is a bit of a dramatization of my situation.

I found a new group to help me maintain my faith on campus and it's really nice to be around them. I haven't told them about my depression because I really like being seen as just myself by them. They think I'm worth getting to know and I don't want to ruin that. Plus I don't want to go through all of the "You're in my prayers." variations. I get more from the act of praying than the idea of prayer.

And when praying can't calm me down enough I rely on the power of science to end my worries. I had a particularly alarming health problem today. My mom thinks it might be an effect of my birth control but I find that highly unlikely, so I booked a terrifying appointment at the Health Center.

This is actually my favorite Death Cab song, it reminds me of riding the bus home alone, listening to it on my cd player sophomore year of high school. The song actually makes me think of the brown leather seats on the bus, complete with the smell and texture of it.

This past week has been extremely hard on me. I have so many anxieties about graduating in May and it is eating me up. I don't want May to come but I want a break from school but I don't want to move away. To top that off I have come to realize that I am constantly looking for him in crowds, at parties, on the road. It's gotten ridiculous. It feels like I'm just waiting for him. Crowds bring me so much anxiety now, I hate going out. I have no desire to do anything but come home after class.

I can't do this alone anymore. My depression has come back in almost all the same ways. I'm not "near-suicidal" but I'm not living my life anymore. I'm a ghost of a girl. Admitting my relapse wasn't as hard as the search for a new therapist will be, but I have a few really close friends and my family to support me while I'm searching. I didn't lose myself during my relationship. I lost myself in this break-up. I had a lot of help and support before but ultimately I chose to rebuild myself and that's what I have to do again.


I'm going to take up journal writing during therapy to make things more accessible and to keep my darkness off Libby. It's hard for me to stay quiet online but I have to tear down a few traits to rebuild myself. Kaitlyn told me it's my blog, I should say whatever I want to say. That's true, but I don't have any interests left to share and I don't feel like making mixtapes. I don't really feel like listening to music at all. I've basically reverted back to childhood cartoons and a steady stream of mindless consumption TV to stabilize what's left of me.

I won't be gone for good or for long. I may even be chatting about the women's rights movement soon if my Southern lit class indulges me. And if you see me crying in public, please don't bring attention to it, I'm working on that too.

Labels: We used to be friends.

I hate this feeling. I can't put my make-up on without having to fix it five minutes later. And this heaving feeling in my chest, why does it have to follow me around? I was so set after About a Boy to adopt a new outlook but I'm just a mess of contradictions.

I had strange dreams of him teasing me, woke up with a headache and somehow all that set off the memory filter so that I'm stuck remembering all these stupid wonderful things and it won't stop. It's a bitch. At the end of every memory I just feel empty.

I have to pick myself up. I can't go to class like this. I can't live my life like this.

About a Boy is a bit hard to translate to About a Girl, but I love it just the same. It's real nice to wallow in other people's problems, which is why I'd rather watch TV or a movie than listen to music and wallow in my own problems. I'm not real sure if the movie taught me this, but talking to him isn't gonna ease my situation. If it makes both of us become upset and sad more then once, then what is going to stop it from doing that again? I mean, it's kind of a pattern.

I still want a different result but I'm not gonna get it. No man is an island. I get it, I shouldn't try to create an island of loneliness either. I need to find stability.

A true sign of how tired I am from this weekend: I was waiting for a bus to come and I thought to myself: This weather is so gross I just want to order a pizza and go home to cuddle with my boy kitten.

I was so nervous about working this T.E.C. weekend. I was terrified of screwing up. Once I got there all that changed. My friends were so excited to see me and they kept me occupied the whole time. I mean technically I had the leadership position so I kept them busy with crafts and skit rehearsal and the customary things, but they kept all of my thoughts in the present. I love my TEC friends because they completely take away the boring everyday stuff from the conversation. We’re always joking and having fun, hugs are as common as high fives, and you're always bound to make a new close friend.

This weekend I knew most of my team but I was finally able to get close to the guys. It's hard for me to become close friends with the guys at TEC because the weekend seems to create this fuzzy line between friend and inappropriate crush. I can manage to see through the haze, but so many of those teenage boys can't, which can make things pretty awkward. This time though most of the guys on my team had girlfriends so everyone felt relaxed. Sometimes it seems good clean humor is hard to come by but at TEC we've got loads of it. I had a really good weekend with them and I will forever remember the pink gorilla and a certain friend in the bear costume that started the first dance party TEC has ever had.

It was strange coming back to Athens, knowing that 6 of them are here too. I'm looking forward to Monday nights and more TEC Tell Alls with Joe.

ICANNOTKEEPMYMOUTHSHUT.
AND
ANEVENINGSPENTATHOMEWITHALITTLEWINELEADSMETOSAYREALLYBLUNTTHINGS-
THATISHOULDNOTBESOBOLDTOSAY.




Sometimes we talk over dinner like old friends, 'till I go and kill the bottle.
I go off over any old thing. Break your heart and raise a glass or ten.

Labels: We used to be friends.

If it had ended any other way would it still be this hard to resist talking to him? I can't control how much I miss him.

I really hope this semester doesn't start off with any more panic attacks.

A certain someone listened to the Best of Libellus mix. So I ventured back into the depths of this 250+ entry blog to re-examine the inspiration to the mix. There's a lot of me spread across this little website, spanning four years. Well, four different years. I've been so honest with myself here, possibly why I was so vague in certain posts. If I had been less vague I would have been wide open, towel dropped on the ground, bare. There is a pretty bare eight months range. I tried so hard at first to not be corny and ridiculous in my relationship. I didn't want to drag my feelings out on Libby. I didn't want to sound stupid in "love." In like. In lust. Eventually in love. I held myself back from being ridiculously happy. I was scared. I wanted to have a conservative self image. I was a stupid lovefool. I've surely contradicted Libby these past few months, but I'm not sure how the girl who wrote all of Libby would react to my contradictions. She would have been surprised I had found happiness. Writing drafts of things to say to him isn't helping. I haven't pulled my card yet for One Free Conversation. I hate this space I'm giving. I hate it so much more than contradicting myself over a guy or over my first boyfriend or over myself. I was too abstract in my ideas before. He wasn't just some guy, some boyfriend. I can't apply those old abstract ideas to my feelings any longer. I'm a lovefool.

Labels: We used to be friends.

If you can apply the seven stages of grief to any kind of loss, including a relationship, then I think I ran too fast into all seven and was forced back to Stage 1 Part 2: Denial. I know it's over. I spent the last week nauseated and sleepless because it was like cutting off a finger accepting that everything is over. I dragged myself through the driest desert. I lost sleep to avoid painful dreams of sweetness. I bitched out whenever I spoke. And then I just applied my thin veneer and hoped the application would dry quickly.

But now denial is waving her sultry hand my way. I don't want to lose him from my life. I looked in all the bad places to find out how he's doing. I hated what I found. But I still have this punchy stubborn feeling to want him back. I know what stubborn feels like, but this is a new kind of stubborn feeling for me: Stubborn + Action. I want to say something so badly. I'm willing to be daring. I hate daring - being bold? That has always scared me. I rarely want to submit to that daring adventure seeking side of myself. I keep writing drafts of a message to him in my head but I don't want to be rash. Even under this bold spell I don't want to say the wrong things.

Side note: When I say "like cutting a finger off" I really mean willingly sawing or cutting off your finger. Taking a knife and going through with it, anticipating all the pain of never having that finger again.

Labels: We used to be friends.

A long time ago, we used to be friends, but I haven't thought of you lately at all.

I was holding on to some small piece of hope. I was fooling myself. Yet every morning, or whenever I wake, I pray that he'll forget, that what happened won't hurt him anymore. I pray that this will go away.

With Veronica Mars I can just forget everything. I walk away from it snide and sassy but at least I'm talking. There's that stinging feeling every time the Dandy Warhols come on, but when the show moves on, so do I. It numbs me. I'm not the same, but I'm there. That's what you want, dearest family, for me to stay. I'm here, partly. Dearest friends, not so much. I have no desire to go out. I have no desire to talk. If you care to join me in mindless consumption of television, that would be lovely, but I'll disappoint you, no matter how low you put the bar.

I should have gone to bed, but I couldn't escape the internet. Not forever. Apparently I can't be numb forever either. It doesn't work like that? Well fuck. I hate this. Memory that needs to be repressed. I'll just wait until it's over.

Labels: We used to be friends.

Desire combined with any notion of longing and diminished hope is mercilessly unkind and cruel.