Last night I got stoned and took a bubble bath with Kundera. Then I fell asleep on the couch with Robert Redford. I woke up this morning and had coffee with a few episodes of Sex and the City. It's a beautiful morning...

So I was thinking... I think my biggest problem with the idea of moving out to a small town has a lot to do with the fact that it really is a small town. I think about meeting someone and I think about how all I really want in a relationship is a guy who's crazy about me. I want to answer my phone to a voice telling me "I just can't stop thinking about you" or something equally as intriguing and passionate. I don't know if moving to a small town is going to facilitate me meeting anyone and that is beyond depressing. How do people in small towns meet anyone beyond those they know from their younger years.

I think of small town love and I think of that couple that met in high school and ended up together forever with two kids and a white picket fence. What happened to the girl who never met that guy junior year? I'll tell you. She went away to college, moved to a city, widened the prospects and the gene pool. Well, I didn't meet my guy in high school. I went to college and still didn't meet him (well, I thought I did but... ) and now facing a life that consists of those I have already met with a life and a job forcing me to a smaller town, I have to wonder if all of it is productive toward a romantic life. I'd rather have great sex and be happy than have a job that pays for the occasional new pair of shoes (which I plan to buy for myself later today actually). What's wrong with wanting more out of life? I'm not saying that I need a man to be satisfied in life, but damn, it sure would be nice.

My job won't be forever. And I know more than the next girl that great guys come and go in life. I guess I should just be content with the fact that I'm not sold to spinsterhood just yet.

I felt the wind on my face and my hair tickled your cheek. For a few minutes, despite the speed, I felt completely safe and completely alive. That's what I think of every time I look at the palm of my hand...

When summer reaches it's peak, and the grass is as tall as it can manage, you'll find me walking past wild flowers spread out like oceans. One day I'll leave it all behind. Two steps in any direction can change your perspective completely. You should try it. I recommend closing your eyes and starting with a solid step to the left. And then one more. Take a deep breath before you open your eyes again. Look lazily outward and slowly focus on something - whatever your eyes tell you to see. I did this today. I looked out at an empty field surrounded by big ugly buildings and saw a hawk swirling in the mist above the field. I watched as it dove down low and cruised a few feet above the ground, so fast.

I have mountains to get to. Seriously. I'm going to start planning my vacation now, though who knows when I'll be able to really afford to take it. I figure I'll need 2 grand to see Machu Picchu. I don't really care though. I will see it. Anyone want to join me? I'll go alone if I have to. No more wide spread dreams and avoidance for this girl. No more hiding and being overly passive. If not now, when?

On the fourth day it was quiet. Sheets wrinkled, the bed was empty. On the fourth day everything had gone back to normal. It was almost as if it had never happened. It could have been nothing, but who really likes to think that. I like to lay back and wonder, to think that it was real, if only for that short time. If you fluff the pillows and straighten the sheets you could almost make it like it didn't happen, but what good will that really do. The nights you spend after you'll only wrinkle the sheets and shove the pillows to the side all over again, but now, like before, you'll be doing it alone. It's best if you remind yourself that it was good while it lasted. If you can manage, you might still have hope.

My skull is pounding and I can't seem to bring myself to bed. I feel helpless and conflicted and almost like I want too much in life. One day at a time right. Yes, I know. I choose now to take a step backward in life. I choose drugs.

I can list on one hand the things that would mean everything to me in life. On one hand lies my future to be determined. What hurts the most is knowing what I am capable of, the freedom I should have, yet I spend every day feeling as though I'm locked in a cage. It's so easy to get lost... These days, though, the fine line between being lost and hiding out is starting to blur and I'm forced to take in the possibility that I'll live the whole rest of my life alone and unsatisfied. It could happen. It would be a waste though; I have so much to give.

... and just like that... she disappeared all over again. It was almost like she was never there to begin with...

Press play now.

While driving north I saw a cloud in the sky that looked like a man. He was lying on his back with feet pointed west toward a particularly purple sunset. I wish I could have been that high. Yesterday I was green down to my toes, in all the best possible ways.

Waking up today, later than lately but earlier than my past norms, I feel like I got beat up while dreaming. Every muscle is screaming FUCK YOU to me right now, right down to all my broken finger nails. I don't remember my dreams. I woke up thirsty. I woke up tired. I woke up to the sounds of my parents talking loudly to one another right outside my door.

I need to buy headphones so that I can walk through my house blasting music and ignore every living soul.

"A collection of parts produces the concept of a vehicle." -- Samyuttanikāya

I'm hot blooded, check it and see... I've got a fever of... well it's only 99 actually. Cold sweats are awesome.

I worked a half day today. I'm probably going to call in tomorrow, but I'm not betting on that just yet. I'd honestly rather go and try to make it through a day- but if I wake up feeling this lovely than they can stick their 008's up their asses. (I'm glad that only nerds that catalog will get that to the fullest)

Just for fun, this is what I scribbled in my journal last night at some odd hour, half awake...

I wonder if the broadness of my dreams is something that will, in the long run, inhibit me from actually going anywhere. To pick a place, my Peru, and focus on it, maybe I can actually find a way to get there. I could drive to the Gulf and then find a boat. I could sail the ocean waters, meandering and drinking in the salt air sunsets. Docking in my South America I see myself riding on the back of a bike or a scooter, feeling the tropical land breeze. I long to see trees I can't hug, hear all the birds I've never imagined. I want to breathe thick air and redefine my opinion of green. I could feel the weight of waterfalls and scream and shriek at bugs the size of softballs. When I get to the edge of the mountains my feet won't hurt, yet. When I climb to the first summit, with a million views that will take my breath away a million times I'll fall to my knees choking out laughter. I wonder if there will be an echo. I want to lay in the grass in the middle of that ancient city, feel the mountain breeze and watch the sunset. If I should die before I wake, I hope my dreams will take me there. Machu Picchu.

So now it makes sense considering the fever...

I can almost feel my life propelling forward. Everything almost seems against my will. Even the clocks are mocking me. My dreams at night are shifting; their secrets blurred by morning. I don't know what I'm doing here...

Even with the distant sounds of street traffic, in that place, sitting on that bench, I felt safer than any other place I've ever known. Though the illusion was flawed I focused my ears to the sounds of the wind blowing on the prarie and it seemed to help my brain hurt less. I wanted to wrap myself in mud and leaves and sleep out there alone. I didn't want to leave. I feel like I've been fighting off something inside me all day long but nothing I do seems to purge the panic feeling in my gut.

Lately the world around me has felt as though its been growing and shrinking as often and as quickly as my breath. It leaves me feeling uneasy and unsure of just what I should be focusing my energy on. Thinking back I realize how much has changed for me, how many new opportunities have been exposed to me and how many have been missed or wasted because I was too afraid to act. I won't let myself be bothered too much with the concept of regret. It would be too easy to fall into that hole.

I can't remember exactly when it was, that I began to wish on airplanes. They are always an easy reminder to me of all the places I wish I could one day see- the things I dream of doing. I won't let myself question the reality of my dreams anymore- Will I ever get there? Will I ever really do that?

The wind was blowing sweet today, strong, and whispering change to me. It's like I can almost feel myself being caged. Spring has always been such a magical season, signaling a time for rebirth and new beginnings. I have to wonder what life has in store for me this time. I try so hard not to be scared.

Please believe me when I tell you that it will all be fine. I'll be fine. You'll be fine. Even if the world does decide to spin backwards...

Last night I found love in my dreams. I found it and killed it. Why is it that I'm always killing off the great loves of my dream-life? It’s almost expected for me now; I’m somehow aware from the moment he walks through the door. Taking the good with the bad I play out the dream and watch him die in the end. It always hurts the same. In the end, I always wake up crying. Last night I watched him explode, a mess of red before my eyes opened. Typical, he waited until after he fucked me to die.

*** *** ***

I saw 300 last night. It was lovely, to be sure.

Today I decided to go shopping. I bought a skirt. It's pink. I have no thoughts on where or when I'll ever wear it but I thought it was pretty. I also bought knee socks. Knee socks are fun. Yay shopping for no reason and yay for having money to buy things for no reason.

There was a moment when I couldn't feel my fingers. With the familiar tickle in my chest, somehow I struggled to breathe normally, and overall I was shaking. It's so fucked. I haven't felt this broken in a long time, but I guess I just haven't been thinking about it. When I think about it, I've always been this way. There's something rather disturbing about feeling as though you reject your own skin- like I wish I wasn't with it. I have nightmares about my flesh ripping open and my insides spill out like water. A release I'll never know. I still have the tickle with me. It lingers, like any second darkness will take me and I'll wake up on the floor like I have time and time again. It hurts.

When is this shit going to stop?

There's no reason I can think of for it. No cause. No trigger. Nothing about me makes sense anymore. Every cut leaves another scar that never really goes away. Every cut changes me and as time passes I lose recognition with the face in the mirror. I don't know that face anymore; I stopped looking a long time ago.