the journal/ oh, it's you.

it was a new kind of cold. she'd been cold before, but not like this. never like this. she didn't know if it was her lack of a sweater and proximity to the frost painted window or if it was cold radiating out from inside her, but she was freezing. she felt like crying, but was unsure if ice would be able to form tears.

she reached for the sweater hanging on the back of her desk chair. her position on her bed made for an awkward stretch, but she didn't care. she rocked back into her previous cross legged position. as she pushed her arms through the wool sleeves and quickly zipped it closed, she took stock of the space around her. bright colours, books, endless stacks of papers, and clothes strewn everywhere. organized chaos. she'd never been one to keep things constantly tidy, but she always knew where to find things in this room.

she made eye contact with the girl in the mirror straight ahead. that finalized it. she was freezing from the inside out. her eyes had once been a vibrant blue. but now, now, the blue water was freezing to a grey-green. not a bad colour, if you could call it a colour. she looked away, uncomfortable with the girl staring back at her.

she shivered, unable to combat the cold seeping through her body. she glanced sideways at the papers on all sides of her. she stacked them, deciding she'd pretended to do enough work for the night. the stack added to the mountain already existing on her desk. she sighed, wondering the point of it all. wondering if it would be better to quit while she was 'ahead' and save a few trees in the process. the mountain of papers shook, and she heard her cell phone vibrate from somewhere amongst them. she dug until she finally found it and stabbing at the"talk" button she answered with a hasty, half asleep:"hello?"
"hey chicky"
"oh hey babe, what's up?"
she sighed inwardly, knowing this call would be of a dramatic nature. she tried to brace herself for what might come next.
"oh, you know"
she scanned her memory, trying to think of the last time they'd talked:
"actually, i don't? we haven't talked in awhile..."
"i fell for him"
"oh"
"you don't understand"
"i know i don't. How could i?"

it was no secret she didn't know what love is. she had a sneaking feeling that her heart had frozen over and that's why she was cold. but she also knew her friend's story wouldn't be love either. no one really understood why they were as close as they were, no one could see what bonded them. she wasn't always sure she understood the dynamics of their relationship either. regardless, she always tried to understand and empathize. it was her curse, she thought, she was such a good listener she often forgot she had a voice to tell her own stories with, to make remarks that had an intention other than to comfort, advise, or to entertain.

her eyes flashed to her laptop, and her heart skipped a beat. oh, she thought, it's not completely frozen. his smiled stared back at her from the screen still. she'd neglected to close their last MSN conversation. it was partially intentional. she liked rereading them. no real reason to, they just made her smile. she wondered when she'd see him again."are you even listening?"her friend's frustrated voice broke into her train of thought. she inwardly sighed,
"sorry, i must have zoned out there. what's going on with you two now?"
"i'm in love with him, but his girlfriend is still in the picture. i'm never happier than when we're together and when he holds my hand, i finally feel complete."
"well, you knew he was already seeing someone when you started this, regardless of how you feel, he's still with her for a reason"

she paused, knowing this wasn't what her friend wanted to hear, but not knowing what else to say. she hated this position, not wanting to hurt, but not able to see any way around it. she switched her cell phone to the other hand and ear, her finger tips having gone numb with cold from holding on to it.
"you knew it would hurt babe, and really-- even if he dumped her, would you honestly want to be with him? what if he cheated on you?"

getting into the morals was never a good idea, but she was having difficulty hiding her personal opinions tonight. she looked back at his picture, wondering what he was doing, and more importantly, what words of wisdom he'd share with her about her friend's situation. that's what she liked most, yes, he was fun to be with, but it was even better how he listened and knew exactly what to say. it was just so, comfortable? she sighed, focusing her attention back to her friend:

"i know, i screwed up, i shouldn't have started this or gone along with it, but i did, what do i do now?"'
"i know babe, i know. i don't know what you should do."
her friend sighed, lost in the hopelessness of it all.
"maybe i'll just go talk to him, tell him how i feel."
"if you think that's what's best, do it."
she secretly rolled her eyes, knowing the teary phone call she'd be getting later in the evening.
"love you."
"yea yea. talk to you later, let me know how things go."

she winced at her own words. she hung up her phone. love. what a weird concept. she felt like she was losing faith in that idea. she was starting to believe that perhaps it didn't exist. not in the way people thought it did anyway. throwing her cell phone back on to her desk and pulling up her quilt over her legs in one motion, she leaned back into her pillows and hit the power button on her radio:
like a shell upon the beach
just another pretty piece
i was difficult to see
but you picked me
yeah, you picked me
she paused to hear this, then click the button off again. she was in no mood for wistful, romantic melodies.

she dug under her pillows and pulled out her well loved, slightly beaten looking journal. she reached over to her desk, knocking aside the book she was supposed to have read for the next day. she stopped, glancing at its cover. then she decisively picked it up, and tossed it to the floor. school was near the top of her list of priorities, but not tonight. tonight something else came first.

she grabbed the first pen she found, and uncapped it quickly. in her haste, she managed to slash her palm with its black ink. she was, if nothing else, always clutzy like that. she figured there were worse things she could be. she stared at the ink staining her palm. skin seemed like such inadequate protection against the world. yet we rely so much on it, she thought, but its so vulnerable to everything. she smoothed her thumb across the ink, spreading it haphazardly across her palm. she considered getting up to wash it, but decided against it. too much effort, and far too cold to get our from under the covers.

she dropped the pen atop her journal and blew into her hands in a vain attempt to warm them. her fingers remained stubbornly frozen solid. what else would i expect other than stubborn from every part of me, she thought to herself. she grabbed her pen and opened her journal. the accumulation of words always surprised her. she'd never thought of herself as having much to say. she hesitated in her flipping, on an entry she always paused at.

about a boy, a boy who believed that she had once thought of herself as "superior" to everyone. his explanation for her silence and watchful eyes. she'd had a hard time getting past that comment (and some days felt that she still hadn't). she'd been unbelievably broken by its thoughtless delivery and had spent the better part of two weeks on the verge of tears before she could convince herself that no one actually believed that about her. it wasn't that she thought herself to be 'superior' but rather that she felt out of place. she never really felt that she fit in with people. especially not in that town. she would often stop and stare at everyone around her, wondering how she got there, why she was there, and why these people liked having her around.

the dynamics of relationships always escaped her and she never felt that she ever fully understood them. not intimately anyways. she shook her head at herself, wondering how many more times she'd be willing to lie to herself; telling herself that it wasn't her, it was bad timing, unusual circumstances, whatever she thought she'd believe about why she was still alone. there's a limit to how many times she was willing to lie to herself. she looked back at her laptop and wondered how many more times she'd be wiling to believe the lies to herself over that one too; making herself believe that there was something which likely didn't exist outside her mind.

she threw back the covers, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed, made contact with the floor and stood. her steady steps taking her quickly to her door, pausing as she reached for the handle; she spun, marching back to her desk and she slammed her laptop closed. she went back and opened her door, and went into the washroom. she turned the faucet on, semi-visible in the nightlight illuminated darkness. she watched the water run down the sink. she waited a few moments, hoping the water would heat up, watching as the water flowed quickly and easily down the drain. she stared at it, unwilling to make eye contact with the girl in the mirror. unable to fake a smile for herself.

she pushed her hands under the water and she let the hot water cascade over them. she felt the heat seep into her hands and she wondered why she hadn't tried this earlier in an effort to ward off the original cold she had felt. she reached for the soap and vigorously rubbed it between her hands making an abundance of suds. as she set it back on the edge of the sink she mistakenly caught the eye of the girl in the mirror.

"oh" she whispered to herself "it's you."

still unsure of who the you in the mirror was, she let the hot water from the tap run over her fingers until the suds were gone and her fingers warm again. she turned the water off, quickly drying her hands on the towel beside the sink before returning to her room and quietly closing the door behind her.

she crawled back under her quilt and reached for her journal and pen. tonight, tonight would be about her. not about the boy from her past, not about the boy from her laptop, not about her friend with her drama. no, tonight, tonight would be different. tonight would be about her and only her. she smoothed open her journal to the next blank page and posed her pen above the paper.

she glanced upwards, meeting her own gaze in the mirror. her eyes, they seemed a little more blue she thought. she smiled. it wasn't the fake smile she so often relied on. no, no this was a genuine smile. she decided she wanted to use that one more often. she had stories to tell too. she was more than just a good listener.

"yes," Her voice steady and clear "yes, this is me."

pen and paper made contact, she looked at the page as she found herself scribbling there, words flowing effortlessly. with each word she felt a little less cold and a little more sure of herself. yes, she thought, i'll exist on this page first. first this page, then i'll find myself in the world. she knew this was right. it felt right. these words, they were her words, they were more than her words, they were her.