the possibility/ challenges and changes

she'd been told a lot of things lately- some efforts to keep her smiling, that'd she'd make it our all the better after this year- a better, stronger person. some, on the other hand, were not so supportive. she'd been told that she never gave this city, this experience a chance.

it'd been one of those drunken, 3am, am i going to regret this in the morning and hate myself for saying these things conversations. she'd listened a lot to another girl's story- her trials & tribulations, her challenges and changes. the problem with this is one always starts to reflect on one's own life. and this is precisely what she did.

she thought of the people she missed: the ones she was beyond thankful were still ever present in her life, the ones she was still a believer that they were better missed than to be causing her pain, and of the ones she'd kept at a distance as to avoid any type of possible pain.

a self confessed commitment-phobe, she was asked the oh so challenging question: "but why? doesn't everybody want that somebody in their life? the something-something aside, don't you want that cliche somebody special?" she had to stop and stare after that question. of course she wanted that... didn't she? the accusation of hermiting away quickly followed and stung a little, okay- a lot, when it was brought up.

she didn't see herself as hermiting any more than she had in the past. she considered her past options for frolicking here- they were few and far between. she'd chosen to stay home with friends from home on Hallowe'en, but she hated dressing up and all that came with that anyways. and she rarely saw friends from home here as she was miles away from everyone. she'd also never seen a relationship that started at a bar be of any significance- so why bother there? her classroom was not brimming with any type of possibility unless she were to start favouring the same sex- so that left the question: is hermiting on evenings when others get sloppy drunk really hindering her chance at finding that special somebody?

maybe she wasn't actively seeking that special somebody, but she'd like to think she was open to the idea. she'd been challenging her own seemingly unwarranted fears and trying to make changes to her self philosophy. she'd been open and attempted flirting with the payless boy- in the store and on campus when he struck up a conversation... maybe she just wasn't any good at any of this, that isn't an unlikely possibility.

the expectation/ losing herself one piece at a time

when she took the time to stop and evaluate the situation, she couldn't help but see that things could be better, but they could be worse. this, of course, was not what anyone wanted to hear- but she was unable to stop the words from crossing her lips. she'd long ago passed the point where she was able to paste a giant smile on her face and say "things are fantastic". no matter how many times she told herself that, the lie was in no way becoming true. things were pretty much as far from fantastic as they could be. perhaps they could get worse, but to her they needed to get a whole lot better before she'd consider them to be okay.

to be better she'd need to be inspired, to be challenged, to be intellectually stimulated. instead she sat through mindless classes, watching her IQ plummet and her vocabulary diminish. the thought of writing an essay where she'd need to debate or even just to compare and contrast made her heart and mind ache for the institution she'd been all too ready to run away from.

regret was something she tried to avoid thinking about when she thought of this place- choosing instead to see it as a means to an end, a way to get yet another piece of paper to certify she was ready for the real working world. she just wasn't sure she'd be able to survive the time to get to the certification. she evaluated what she'd "learned" and discovered it to be nothing more than labels for her existing knowledge and intuition. she evaluated what potential there was for learning and found it hard to breathe. how painful each day here was. how much she yearned to think, to be challenged, to do.

she had at one point thought she'd love aspects of this place- but the people were becoming frustrating as peers (but wonderful as individuals) and she wanted to be challenged- not to always be the one doing the challenging. she had always tried to avoid expectations for just this reason- because when people or things don't live up to them she always felt that she lost a piece of herself. and that's just what this place was doing- causing her to lose herself one piece at a time.

the familiar/ a little lacking

she'd picked up almost all of what she owned, turned her back to anything and everything that was familiar to her and she walked away. she'd thought she'd been making the right choices, picking a path that would lead to happiness. most days were okay days. today, just didn't seem like it was going to be one of those days.

despite the fact that it was her choice to be so far from anything and everything familiar, today she couldn't block the idea from seeping into her soul that she'd made some huge horrible mistake. she considered what it had taken her to get here, and couldn't help but notice that all signs pointed to "don't do it, don't go". she considered how she felt now that she was here- a little lonely, a little lacking in intellectual stimulation, and for some reason, a little empty.

she thought of all the people she'd met and how there was potential for real friendships there, and then she thought of the people she'd walked away from and more than anything she wanted to be back there. she knew in time this place would grow familiar, but her heart wouldn't ever be here. she realized that she shouldn't want to escape her escape. she hoped that today was just a bad day and that tomorrow she'd feel different.

the maybes of cancer.

(this sleepless night found me wandering through my blog, through past entries, through unpublished drafts. i found this one, written in May of 2008, but never published it. i wrote it about Tom.)

cancer.
seems like such a simple word.
it reveals nothing about:
the terror it unleashes on the lives it touches;
the tears and constant raw emotions it evokes;
the utter and total all encompassing feeling of hopelessness it causes.
it seems like you can't escape it.

they say cancer doesn't discriminate.
i don't see that.
all i see is the people i love and care about falling helplessly into its grasp.
the chain smokers, tanning bed lovers, general junkies- they escape it.
or maybe it just seems that way to me.

you might be so lucky as to escape the fate of cancer.
maybe you'll live in complete contentment never understanding the horrors of this disease.
maybe.

but maybe,
maybe you'll be one of those individuals who,
whether they provoked it or not,
end up faced with days of chemo,
weeks of radiation,
endless growing tumors
that never seem to stop.
maybe they'll try everything they can,
maybe it will start to go away,
but maybe it will come back.
maybe it can't be beat.
maybe they'll do everything in their power
but be helpless,
unable to defeat.

maybe no matter how much i love you
maybe no matter how much or how many people care
maybe this is how its supposed to end.
maybe?

maybe i'm scared, terrified even.
maybe i'm not ready to go through all this again.

maybe you're better than this.
maybe you're stronger than this.
maybe you can beat the odds.
maybe thats what i'm hoping for,
maybe thats what i'm praying for,
because maybe, maybe i can't deal with the real reality.
i'm not giving up on you.
i'm not.
and you better not be either.

because maybe you're supposed to be there when i'm graduating.
maybe you're supposed to still have that chance to fall in love.
maybe you've got too many people depending on you to let this get the better of you.
maybe i need you to be there for me, for my family.
you are part of my family and i can't stand the thought of it being otherwise.
thats not a maybe.
this can't be it.
can it?
maybe?

honesty in the best policy.... right?

the walk/ a little removed

despite being unsure of a great many things in her life, she always carried herself with a strong sense of self confidence. head held up, shoulders back, long legs taking lengthy strides. very sure of her step. (or so she would have you believe from appearances).

this confidence, in combination with her silent manner, uncontrollable expressive features, and watchful eyes often led others to think of her as intimidating. or worse yet-- as someone who believed themselves to be superior to others. both of these notions, to her, were ridiculous. yet she didn't possess the words to combat these ridiculous ideas.

instead, she watched, a little removed from everything and everyone, and waited. waited for someone who would be able to read and understand her without words. she wasn't confident she'd find them-- but you'd never know that from her walk.

late nights/early mornings

my hands are covered in graphite, but the shades of grey blend easily with my skin...

the doors/ lacked the ability or capacity

she'd been making a lot of decisions as of late. she'd been taking the time to contemplate who she was, who she wanted to be, where she was, where she wanted to be, what she was doing with her life, what she wanted to do with her life. it seemed like there were doors open all over the place, she simply was lacking the foresight to know which was best to open. she knew that opening none was not an option, but lacked the ability or capacity to definitively and confidently reach for one and to forget the others.

so she hid.
she hid behind a mountain of papers that would take her no time at all if she bothered to focus on completing them.
she hid behind blank canvases and cups of paintbrushes that took so much focus to clean after use.
she hid behind empty emotionless encounters that shouldn't have happened but did and now relentlessly stole her focus.
the closer it came to being time to make choices the more she sought to run from them and hide behind something else. someone else. anything else.

but there was no hiding. no due date, no canvas, no one could block out the list of decisions ahead of her. she just hoped that she'd figure out which door led to the future she was meant to live before she lost the key.

the debates/ making mistakes

she'd been debating about a lot of things lately. without recognizing that these internal debates simply made her feel empty inside, she found herself seeking something, anything that would fill the void.

she'd done things lately that she wasn't particularly proud of. she wouldn't say that she regretted them, but they weren't things that she was screaming out to the world that she'd been doing. she was making mistakes left right and center and pushing herself past her own comfort limits.

she knew that someone would get hurt. she'd hated herself for having to tell her that she just wanted to be friends... and hated herself even more for still going to his place when it was clear that things were simply going to go no where... she didn't know which was worse, the thought of hurting someone else, the thought of getting hurt, or the thought that neither of them cared enough to be hurt...

she can't change the past. she still has control over her own future choices, but she wonders if she cares enough to stand up for herself... and she's scared of her own answer to that particular debate. she tries to turn up the volume on her iTunes and block out the world and refocus on debates that will clarify life rather than confuse it more.

maybe life is supposed to be a mixture of confusing mistakes.
or maybe she was just really good at fucking things up.

the etching / this is who you're meant to be

she'd been afraid to pick up her pen in this capacity as of late. she was unsure of what she'd been bottling inside without realizing. unsure of what truths would be etched into the paper if she took the time to put them there. afraid of how the truth would look scratched onto the paper. black honesty on the cream coloured paper. she'd taken to imprinting on her skin instead. she'd take the time to sketch quick words on the inside of her ankles-- a place that could quickly be hid by her socks but a place that would guide her steps. but today was different, today there was no one word to lead her where she thought she needed to be. she could still faintly see the grey outline of yesterday's word which hadn't quite come off despite her scrubbing in the shower. witness. that's what she had been spending her time doing. and who she was looking for. looking for a witness to her life while she tried to stop being a witness and start being a participant. maybe that could be today's word: participate. she etched that into her ankle in her messy scrawl. she longed for the day she'd feel completely comfortable with where she was and who she was with and where she was going. she wanted that sense of comfort, that feeling of belonging, that knowledge of 'yes' this is where you're meant to be and 'yes' this is who you're meant to be with. instead, she was stuck staring at the faded grey and fresh black ink etched into her skin, still in a place that felt a little off, with no set direction of which way to head. it was that sense of unknown and possibility that excited and terrified her. she was so ready to pack up her potential and head off into the world but something was holding her back. she wished she could figure out what exactly that was, but was unable to. so, here she was, a little messy around the edges, a little over compassionate, creator of great disasters, but ultimately, no matter what she did, no matter how many mistakes she made, no matter how many words were etched into her ankle-- she was here.