i scratched it, ruined the grooves, broke it over my knee. the vinyl's still playing, and repeating its damn self.

why i do not go to actual "parties":

a) i do not know people

b) i do not drink

c) i do not ever walk out with my heart intact, or acting rationally.

crying again on the drive home. dark roads. alternate routes to buy me time so i could yell my lungs out...at myself.

whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy
whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy
whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy
whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy
whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy

same story: guy walks into my life, whether by accident--aw hell, who'd want to walk into my life? guy catches my attention. guy secures my attention. guy acts friendly and i misinterpret these as signals that i have also secured his attention in the same manner. guy then suddenly ends up in an airplane dropping the hydrogen bomb on me, and i somehow end up standing in the middle of a crater, gaping like an idiot, wondering how long it'll take me to crawl out this time. i've never been stuck in a crater this deep since kyle. okay, there, i said his name after all this time: IT WAS KYLE. and i'm saying I DON'T GIVE ANY OWL'S HOOT. his was hard to climb out of, he dropped three, the third, i'm sure, by mistake. 

i believed myself to never have felt as strongly about someone since kyle. and both have their similarities, because both had almost nothing in common with me, and both were the wrongest of types for me, and felt for them regardless. if you'd like to call it unconditional love, go ahead, but you're making it waaay too melodramatic: i'm still too young for that: i call it stupidity. complete and utter stupidity.

and how young am i? apparently not young enough for one of the most scarring events of my life to occur exactly six months and fourteen days ago (if you know me personally, you know when i'm talking about). apparently not young enough for me to have my heart broken so many times, in such a short (and oh Lord, so important time in my life, so crucial!). oh, and pardon that in the real world, none of those would actually count as broken hearts, but i don't live there, here. 

so how many more times will i have to bawl/yell at/scream at/berate myself down dark, alternate routes home?

i'm asking you, God, to do me a favor, first forgive me: then take out the section of my heart with that invisible scalpel of yours and remove the vein saved for romantic love. save it in a petri dish in a morgue drawer. 

for the next two to five years, my life will be MINE ALONE. school. i will do well in school, i will love theater. i will meet people, and love my friends. i will visit home and love my family. i will be poor in seattle and love it. if i end up at central, i will be with many friends, and i will spend a quarter in england. if i end up at western, i will spend my last year there in england, away from that godawful rainy place, because i hear it rains more than seattle, and i don't want to be anywhere that reminds me so much of what happened in this town. once i have enough money, i will buy the croatian version of rosetta-stone. once i've learned enough, and earned more money, tia and i are tripping across europe. i would like to spend a huge deal of time in croatia and get to know myself; tia is my friend, and i'd love to travel with someone else, especially her, but this will mainly be for life reconfiguring,

because God and i (and probably you, reader) know that this will probably happen again sometime between now and then.

i cannot wait to leave this place. there are so many people here i will miss, but so many people, existing as memories. ghosts. in my mind, and they cannot stray too far from here, else they'd die. 

so they won't follow me. i don't want them to.

-d