ndslotesse's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Just Writing Alone Dear Diary, Is writing your feelings still considered 'therapy'? Does this mean I'm getting better? I wish I had headphones to listen to my music a lit bit louder as I sit here in the silence of my father's apartment while the rest of my family sleeps. I hope I have not woken them. My stomach feels uneasy this early morning because of my insomnia. It's been a while since I couldn't sleep, since I find it a pleasing past time. Open up my eyes, flooded with daylight I have that feeling of sleepiness mixed with anxiety. I think that's whats making my stomach hurt so bad. I have Rielle in my arms at this moment and I'm glad I have her. The beauty in her appearance is very comforting. It must be her eyes that always made her loving, along with that constant kindness in her wings that always made me sigh in gratitude. It seems I'm always up in Chicago now for any time I don't have school or we have a break. And it's funny, you know? Because it's the only place that I don't want to be because all it does is remind me of being away. And I don't want to be away and it's killing me. Romeo and I got into a fight the day I left and arrived in St. Louis. I wish I wasn't so sensitive sometimes. I wish for nonchalance but love still. I know what I want but sometimes I do wish for it. His love has meant more to me than Blueberry or Rielle or Nanay's ring. And what do I have to show for it? Nothing because I'm leaving. It is funny, as soon as your leaving you find a reason to stay. It didn't matter to me before that we were moving. In fact, last year when I found out, it didn't phase me at all. "Okay, we're moving. Great. New people. New scenery. New." The storm is bad tonight, I've always hated change. It never mattered with what. I've always disliked the feel of it. My reluctance is frightening at times. I scare myself. I don't know what to do. I didn't mind when I was younger so much when I moved from Philly to Kansas City. I was sad but I didn't know the meaning of what it was like to leave something I love intimately behind. I think for the entire 5th grade year, all I referred to was Philly. And then, all of a sudden Bryn Maur was a faded childhood dream and the picture of Lees Summit suddenly became so vivid. I don't know how it happened but it did and I didn't mind. I don't think it mattered. Those friends on the east coast missed me a for a while but not for long. And I missed them for a while but not for long. I think about them still. I think about my life back there and I smile. And it's great. I feel warm. It was a great place to grow up and there were nice people. Living there made me a great person, it made part of who I am today. Great. Wonderful. Fantastic. And now since I've been living in Lees Summit for the past (almost) 6 years and I compare it to the 7 years I lived in Bryn Maur and the first 3 years of my life life in Manila (Phillipines) that there are great things in each of these places that I have grown from. They all have been wonderful and fulfilling in their own way and I am grateful. I will never forget what it was like to live in each of these places and I will look back and remember how I learned from each place. How great it was to live there. And even though, all are amazing. There is one difference that lingers in my heart, and what makes moving so hard. Lees Summit = Scott. If you make me move I will die. Moving has plagued my thought for what seems forever. It's almost like this constant nagging voice in the back of my heart where all the secrets lay, is where it's hurting so much. And I don't know how to heal it. I'm scared. I've always been able to picture the future. I'm not physic (sp?), just realistic (in relation to my dreams). ...And I can see it now. Me sitting in my new room with everything decorated. That sort of fuzzy picture that you see in dreams. I'm lying on my stomach at the bottom of my bed with Blueberry resting underneath me and Rielle beside my hand while my eyes are lingering on the phone while my music is on slow repeat, "Flake," trying to get better. And even in that beautiful atmosphere of a new home. Of everything new. I'm long for the old. I'm waiting for his call KNOWING, DEAR GOD KNOWING!!! that he won't. That those silly letters on my desk are piling up and those pretty ink-gell-pens are empty and lying on my floor scattered as I hurriedly wrote everything so dear in my heart for him. And I can't write this scene with out that hurt intensifying my feelings into tears and I don't know what to do. And I think I should stop. I can't write anymore. But I'm not sleeping and With care,
4:36 a.m. - 2003-03-18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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