In the desert northeast of cairo my partner spent 18 months digging up red sand, dry sand. i laughed at his foolishesness. all the discoveries to be discovered had been unearth. they had been found by giants of history, by visonaries, by those before the fall.

two months ago he found a stone that he said linked the past to now. i dismissed it.

he left me, he left us, all of us, he left the earth, he left the living weeks ago. he left us here. with nothing new, nothing solved.

i built a castle

A New Year

I recently read a book about how being 29 is quite possible the hardest year. the premise essentially was that being 29 meant coming to terms with everything you thought was supposed to happen and didn't. and even worse: everything you thought you wanted but don't.

i have already had some frustrations and some good points of the year but overall i am tragically optimistic. i keep thinking maybe this year will be better. and the something happens to scare that away.

the other night after a munch i had the most amazing evening going and playing silly shoot em up games at an arcade with an ex. i had an amazing night and i felt special and wonderful and alive and good. part of me wanted him back. missed him. missed feeling special. i contacted him the next day and told him i missed hanging out with him and i wanted to do something with him soon. he responded he would be happy to, but as a casual friend with no pressure. for some reason this struck me and i couldn't recover . i just kept hearing the words echo and thinking of it over and over. i thought of how when i see amittai i feel amazing and incredible for a night, for a day and then realize i mean nothing to him.

i thought about how when amittai leaves town or when kurt is away and they let me stay at their place, or when i stay in a hotel, how i feel safe. for a night, for a day till i wake up, till i leave. i fell for this ex in that moment, in that space and then it was a cold wake up back to the real world, to the morning. its like i go from port to port looking, hoping for a place to hide out, to stay till the storm settles. like i have to stay moving. i thought of how easily it must seem i am manipulated. and i guess in truth i am. i don't know entirely what to do with that.

i got a dog because i love dogs but also because i thought it would be good to get out of my own head. if i had to worry about someone else, care about someone else, well then i couldn't be stuck in this whole i made. right? I'm not sure its worked out like that.

kurt is in the other room snoring so loud i cant even close my eyes. i feel trapped. not frightened, just claustrophobic. like they will find me hear sooner. like i would be safer at home. like its more obvious I'm hiding.

i leave for spain soon. another time alone, away from everyone where i pretend i am figuring things out.

maybe this could be my year. am i vain for thinking and hoping for such things? selfish?

i was able to admit to myself this morning that i didn't love evan enough. that he doesn't love me. i was able to admit it would be good if i could burn everything i saved for him and just let it go. i wont. but it would be good. i don't think i need him anymore. not how i used to. But i need something.

I keep thinking of my father. he tried things the same way. he worked out every single day. he would run, do sit ups, push ups. every day he did these things. every day he worked. he kept doing the same things, thinking the same things. and he died. he died long before his heart attack. i don't want to be that. i want to be able to say i am 29 and i was wrong about what i thought i knew, what i thought i wanted. i want to be able to say: i have some new ideas and i am ok if they don't work out. i don't want to fall this easily anymore. i don't want to need something to cling to this much. i don't know how to make this happen.

Jolly Old

The first Christmas after my father died no one knew how to act or what to do. We went through the motions and pretended things were the same. I hid. I ignored that my life was falling apart. We watched the same presents being torn ooen. he same arguemnts. They same dinners. With a lot more silence.

The second year, well the second year was the year my mother was persuaded she was going to go broke and end up on the streets in poverty. I was in denial and only wanting to drown myself.

The third year my father died my mother spent all her money. 97 presents line the white, artificial tree.

Every year i say goodbye to someone else. SHould that be coming common place.

I knew i would never see evan again. i never saw my father. i went back into the house to hug my grandmother. i looked at a woman and hugged her knowing i would never see her again and then left the room. thats who we become. we accept this. we walk away knowing we will never see someone again. knowing they want to. knowing they dont want it to be the end. knowing they have nothing pressing the to come in on monday. and yet we walk away. it is life and death. she will die. and yet we walk away. do other people? do other people?

i write a letter to Santa every year. i know i'm too old.

They say when you are attempting to give up an addiction that you shouldn't say things like "last cigarette", this will be "the very last drink." they say it adds too much pressure. Whats an addiction though but a fear? a fear of losing something in which you take comfort. so they say. i shouldn't think. i shouldn't count the last ones. the last moments. the last christmas'. so they say.

i wrote evans card. i wrote evans letter. his present. his email. i wrote it all. i wrote a letter for fred. a letter for all who mattered. none will be read.

i wished for him. same every year. i wish for my animals. i wish for my life. i wish for my God. i wish to not have hope but simply faith. i wish that i can stop trying. i pray. i go to sleep thinking that when someone comes, when someone breaks in, itll be better. ill be rewarded. ill have been judged good. i wake up alone. cold. i told evan i would spend that christmas with him but i went home. it was the last time i ever saw my father. i never regretted that i never returned his calls. instead i regret that i went home. i regret that i didnt stay with evan. ill never write anything that will matter as much as that. no list, no story, no wish. i loved him. nothing made can ever amount to something that is.

i'm sorry i left. every second. it was someone else i was saying goodbye too. i dont know how any of us ever walk away.

Running, Written, Raped

It is officially the last day of summer. Labor day is here and that means schools will be back in session, night will come early, even the bus routes will change. I haven't written much but a lot has happened. The problem is everything that's happened has been in my head. I'll do my best to retell it all now.

L'anniversaire

What I Wrote:

Happy Birthday

It's been two years. Two years is a long time. In that time I have met a new group of friends, switched stores, traveled the East Coast, slept nights outside on a park bench, tried to kill myself, had writings published, been to Europe, had relatives die, been attacked, promoted. Yet nothing has changed. I am who I am. By now you have graduated. By now you have said you love he . By now you don't remember me. I've kept to my word. I haven't loved anyone. I think of you every day. I wait for you. 

So yes, today is your birthday. It is also the anniversary of the last time we talked. The anniversary of my attempt. The anniversary of the end of my life. 

I hope it is a good day for you. I hope you are happy. I hope you feel loved. I hope you remember me. 

Happy Birthday. And everything I can't say. 

What I Sent:

Two years later. I hope you are well. I hope your birthday is good. I hope you are happy. 

Happy Birthday.

Lara-Ashley

The dream last night
Last night in my dream I saw Evan. I was with Evan. I knew it was a dream. The he was only there It was a dream. Yet I still believed it was him. Like I could summon him. Make him really. E there be sued it didn't count. Because it was a dream.

In the dream I made us do everything. Made him hold me. Hug me. Go places with me. Spend every second with me. Say everything. Because even in the dream I knew I'd wake up so I had to hold on to the dream. I remember thinking that exact thought in the dram while he was holding me. I remember him saying we could go do something I had wanted to do but I remote bet thinking: no this dream will end soon and I can't give up a single moment of him holding me.

Capacity

There are moments when things just stand still. It's as if everyone around you is oblivious to you holding your breath but you do anyhow. You hold your breath for fear that even the slightest movement could offset everything you've prayed. I can't breathe. I can't risk ruining anything with my own breath. I can't breath.