Inside This Mind.

12.02.2005 * 12:48 p.m.
a broken twenty-five

The storm that blew the leaves wildly yesterday was strangely comforting. The moisture in the air combined with the strong wind felt slightly like Santa Barbara. I wish the wind would come back today and blow me away.

I'm doing well. Life is good. I like my job. I love my friends and I love that we say "I love you."

I don't love the way that things so easily pretend to be smoothed over while quietly decaying underneath.

11.30.2005 * 10:43 p.m.
There's no Goleta Beach here.

I'm contemplating running. Away. Not literally, but packing up and moving away from here, escaping this disasterous and complicated situation. But I can't and I won't. I'd only be avoiding the problems, making life easier for myself but harder for my parents. To leave now would be selfish and cruel and wrong. Besides, I have no where else to go and things are starting to fit for me here. I do miss the convienence of living 300 miles away when all of this stuff was going on before. How terrible of me.
Instead of running I am keeping myself busy. I focus on living my life and sticking to my routines. So far it seems to be an effective means of keeping my thoughts shallow and my pointless worryings at a minimum. I wish there was something I could do to help.

For the most part I am remarkably strong. I only break down before a person if I choose to do so. There is no one here who has earned that unfortunate honor. There is no one here for me to cry on. No hands to hold mine and lift me up. No love of my life to speak to me frankly and hold me level. Maybe I'm foolish, but I never felt more vulnerable and safe at the same time as when I was with Chaney. I think of him now because I know his presence would bring me comfort. Actually, he comforts me from where he is. I don't know how he does it, but I am grateful.

I suppose I should go to bed now and ignore this nightmare until morning. Hopefully I get to.