I’d stare straight into the camera so you could pretend that I’m looking at you.

And I would tell you.

Everything.

And I don’t think it would change

anything.

Does it make you sad to know that you could see me every day without seeing me at all?

I’ll see what I can do.
In the meantime, I have to ask that you stop ripping apart your sutures. The scar tissue was so mangled that we had to pull all of our resources just to make the stitches hold. Everytime you rip them, you risk permanent damage.

You don’t already think there is permanent damage? I mean, I don’t even remember what I was like before…

People usually don’t. It is just that you could be normal if you stop now.

Normal?

Yes.

But, these new symptoms of mine, don’t they cause you any concern for the possibility of normalcy?

No.

Why not?

Because I think that the two are unrelated. You want my advice?

Of course, Doctor.

If you want to remain a broken piece of shit, then do it. Let them stomp all over you and spit in your face. Let the world rape you of your remaining sanity and be the better person at the end of the day because you didn’t give in and fight back.

If you want these new symptoms to cease, then stop them. Do what you’ve been aching to do. Change.

You’re suffering from an accute case of life.

Growing pains, they call them.

Take two and call me in the morning.

I always want to write these great and philosophical posts that leave people mentally incapacitated after reading but it just doesn’t happen anymore. I started using this shit to get out what was killing me, now if you read through the sparse posts, all you see is what I wanted you to.

I don’t know who I am.

I feel like the ties are breaking. Some part of me wants to just pick somewhere on the map that sounds good and move. Just for the hell of it. I don’t feel needed. I don’t feel bound anymore.

Is it supposed to be liberating? It feels more like suffocation.

But this is slower.

This is waking up every day and feeling like you’re living the wrong life.

This is feeling like you have a home and friends waiting for you somewhere else… and knowing that it isn’t true.

This must be the alternate universe. Maybe I’m in a coma somewhere. Some horrible accident happened and the person you know and love is lying in a hospital bed passed the fuck out and I am just a figment of their imagination. I am living in their imagination to keep them alive.

Someone pass the defibrillator.

Charge them up, please.

Full blast.

I am ready to wake up now.

I am ready to be me again.

(Clear)

And now as I am here, wondering what it means to be me, I can’t help but feel this emptiness.

Not because of my lack of self,

But because of the lack of you.

I don’t know who you are or if we’ve already met. I don’t know where you’re from or what your name is. I don’t know what you look like or how I will recognize you when I find you.

But I know that I need you and,

I know that I am empty without you.

So, please.
Find me.

(I am here and I am listening.)

Together we can put an end to this emptiness inside of me.

Don’t you feel it, too?

I took this picture with my cell phone the night that I was stranded in Dulles. I was so close to home and yet so far away.

You were the only person I wanted to talk to.

I still wasn’t happy about it, but you were the only person that I felt could make me feel better.

I know it sounds cheesy and stupid and… unsanitary but I took this picture in the abandoned bathroom at like two something in the morning before I called you on the banana phone.

It was one of those times where I really needed you and you weren’t there.

…But you were there. You stayed on the phone with me as long as you could. You made me feel at home in that abandoned airport.

You were there when I found out I hadn’t been accepted to William & Mary. You were there for me to talk to about my stupid work drama and my crazy family antics.

You have always been there.

But where was I when you needed me?

I want people to take me seriously. I want to have the confidence to say what I mean and I want people around me to know that I get what I want. I wish I was this unstoppable force.

I want to be able to do things and not hide behind the internet and type them on my freaking website. Boo hoo.

I’m sorry. I wanted to post pictures here of various things but every time I sit to do it,I get distracted. So this time I figured that I would cut out the images and skip straight to the heart of it.

I keep dreaming about whales. Orcas.

They were my favorite animal when I was a kid. Before horses, before free willy. I had a game called, “Dangerous Creatures” for Windows 93/95/whatever-the-fuck-it-was. My dad got it for me at one of his computer shows and I remember that as soon as I saw the Killer Whale, I was in love.

I thought I was at peace. I thought that because I wasn’t an insomniac that I was somehow okay or that I am better now psychologically because I don’t dream about being ripped apart by zombies. I don’t have the same nightmares about being trapped or cornered. I don’t wake up in the middle of the night feeling in my chest this weird anxiety because of the horrors I had conjured up in my head.

Instead, I have these dreams where I am completely helpless. And the whales are always there. They can’t speak. They don’t even make the sounds they’d make naturally.

I guess, “They” is kind of a dramatization because it is only ever one whale. I feel like I know it’s a him, too. It sends off dude whale vibes.

So I’ll call him He.

He is always kind of on the sidelines of the action but he is all I can focus on. I feel like he wants to help me. He is trying to tell me the answer. He is trying to help me find something or someone that I need.

Why? Why is he helping me?

And why did it hurt me so much to know that I couldn’t save him? Why couldn’t he hear me screaming for him to stay? I woke up from that dream mourning the loss of a creature that only existed in my head. The entire day, I felt like I lost someone.

I don’t usually buy into dream analysis. I don’t usually care what things symbolize. Why does it matter what some book says something stands for?

All I know is that I keep seeing He. Last night, He watched a prehistoric cousin of his take a chunk out of my hand. I just stood there as this huge ancient orca-like thing viciously came at me and after, I just stood there staring at the blood pooling in my hand while He swam anxiously by.

Why?

What are you trying to tell me?

Is it too much to ask for the God damn whale to learn how to speak?

(BTW, I look cute as a blonde.)

I just want to put it out there that some piece of me does want to share them. I would love to show the universe pictures of me trying to model pose with my brother’s daughter while she’s busy trying to eat my hair. I want nothing more than to show you all that you don’t have to have a big beautiful camera to capture the moment and every feeling associated with it.

I would love to walk with you through my personal memory lane and know that when we look at a picture together, you can tell by the tone in my voice (or my text as the case may be) when I elaborate that it meant something. I was there and it meant something.

BUT ALAS, it can never be.

Well. Maybe it could be. But it won’t be for a long time.

In the mean time, I have decided that I would like to assemble photo alblums. So if you want to know what I want for christmas, I would like some decent alblums. (that word freaks me out because I always want to type album)

Something sturdy but pretty. I am not big on scrapbooking or captions so just the plain jane pages work fine.

Until then, I would like to learn how to knit and how to crochet. I bought a little kit to try and teach myself how to crochet. We’ll see how it goes.

People you don’t want to see your life. It isn’t really prying eyes because, I mean, hey. We put it out there. Some part of us must want the attention.

I mean, I obviously don’t have this problem because I never update and nobody reads this. But I mean, you. Does it bother you?

It would bother me if it happened to me.

Something in my core is telling me that if something doesn’t change soon, I am going to find myself lost. I am going to go back to being that unhappy girl that smiles at everyone because she is too busy trying to keep her head above water to ask for help.

Here I am, trying to find things to do to keep myself busy. Things to occupy my hands and keep myself from dwelling. I am choking on the words that I am not saying. So, to save myself, I will say them.

And I will pray that you are listening.

I need you.

You are everything I ever wanted. You are the only thing I have ever wanted. Please don’t leave me here. Please don’t forget about me. Don’t let me forget about you. Don’t.

Please.