I'm not dealing so well with these memories right now.  It's only in the early hours of the A.M. does my brain get flooded by it all.  Memories of my mother...memories of my other family...

I sit here looking at the pictures...wish I was with them...wish I understood my own emotions.  Wish I could just hug them...hold them...

I imagine going back to WC and it all being the same...but I know that it won't be...it's never going to be the same way again.  Life does go on and we can't change that.  It's just that, sometimes, it's hard to accept that cruel reality.

It's like I've lost more than my mother...it's like there's more than her presence that's missing.  It's almost as if I can't even feel her anymore.  And it's different...not having her around...I can't just call her up on her cell and ask her for advice anymore.  I can't just lay in her lap late at night watching tv...not speaking...just the feel of her hand on my head.

As if missing her isn't hard enough...I miss my T Money...and my Tigger Pounces....and my Rachel Fabulousness like shwoah...and my Jess Diva Moments...and UNINHIBITED A time....and Singles Awareness....and even Sequal giddy emo moments.....hell...I'd kill to write a paper for DeVenney....

Too many emotions to sort out...too many memories...too much.....

On one hand...my "project" is helping me because it gets me to write out my story...write out my thoughts...

On the other hand however, is it hurting me?  I'm writing fiction...so, it's not all based upon my life, obviously.  There's chapters and scenes, already written, that I wish could be real...to paint a picture in reality in shades so brilliant that no one could ignore them.....

There's chapters and scenes, yet to be written, that swirl around in my head...I try to paint them with the same colors...but they just turn out to be surreal...unwilling ghosts and apparitions in the dark night that only fade away come morning. 

The feelings I've tried so hard to forget about...for that certain someone (and to those of you who know the story..no, it's not F***face from a certain 3rd floor)....the feelings just keep coming back with the memories...

And I have yet to sort it out...maybe I am just trying to make up for something....just trying to fill in these empty spaces, these black holes and voids that have been suddenly created in my life.  Then again...maybe it's more than that.

Yes, I AM still afraid to be who I really am.  I'm afraid to unleash that person here...where that person is hated.  It's like a forced repression...there's nothing I can do...safely anyway.  And it's so sad that it has to be that way.  Why can't we all just simply be accepted for who we are?  Why can't we just be ourselves? 

Is it because society has trained us to hate ourselves?  Is it because Americans are so damn hypocritical?

I saw "The Lake House" the other night with A...and towards the end...when all the strife and hardship comes (like in all love stories) one name kept resounding through my head.  And while the movie's plot in itself didn't do anything for my tear ducts...the thought of that name and the person it represents (paired with the soundtrack and circumstances) did make me tear up...I held back though.....I've trained myself to hold back.  I know I shouldn't...but...ugh.......I just feel so stupid and weak......

I feel like my life's at a standstill....everyone else keeps going...keeps moving.  All I want to do is run.  Run to the ends of the earth and back....take the numbness away...take it from my body, my heart.....

Samuel Barber's "Adagio for Strings"...if music could be a car....I'd chose this one to take me away from all this....

Happy frickin' birthday ravenscry......