Vancouver rain

Today is a typical Vancouver day, clouds, light rain, and I must admit that I like it, I like it a lot. As much as the sunshine of the past week has been lovely, its kinda nice to get some cooler weather, some water to release the smells of the west coast. Patrick commented today on the smell, I told him it was my favourite thing. That and the slightly melancholy mood that the rain has justified. I have been feeling off since Saturday, and I think its a combination of a few things, a big contributor being PMS. The rain has allowed me the freedom to walk with my head down and listen to my westcoast music. Its been nice. Today we'll embark on our first assignment, and hit the pub for a few.

I'm trying to find a niche here, but as always my natural tendencies to be a bit shy and believe that people don't like me are taking over. And of course I have managed to put my feet in it several times. Oh I'm such a fuckup and I never ever learn!

My favourite quote of yesterday was, "I want a bendy boyfriend! Then we could have sex in fun directions!" The joys of rez are many and varied. I love the closeness, and the bed parties.

One weekend later

Okay so I know, its been hard to keep things up. Most of you know what it's like in rez, and so I can be forgiven. Recapping everything would be difficult. My back hurts and I don't know why, my legs hurt because I went down to the beach twice on Saturday night, once involving naked nightswimming, and the stairs have turned my body into a wreck. That and the drinking. Copious amounts of alcohol. Oh my.

Friday night was an alternative to the club scene, which went off well for me and I hope well for my companions. It didn't decimate me too much, and Saturday we spent all day walking around. My new crush, my new best friend, the day was beautiful and I burned my shoulders. Returning home, we settled in for the long haul party on Saturday night.

I got up Sunday morning and looked at the bottle of whiskey that sat on my desk. My god. Did I really drink all that?! Fuck me. That was the gist of the day. I spent an hour curled up with my head on Evan's knee, another hour feeling wretched, returned home for a brief meal (my first cooked, warm meal in a long time...) and bummed around some more. I was feeling a bit upset and couldn't realy shake the sensation that I wasn't meant to be there. I worried that I had made an ass Saturday... certainly it was a gong show of a shit show of an evening.

This lab is getting crowded and I keep getting asked if the broken computers work... I'm getting irate and frankly, would rather be outside. Its going to rain soon.

I told them so...

We talked on the boat for a long time, he is easy and that's what I enjoyed most, I am unwilling to put effort in, and so I stick with what is easy. I told him that I didn't want to make a drunk ass of myself. I told him that it would happen if I had too much to drink. Of course that part was my decision. Ah well, live and never learn. I have yet to come face to face with any of those who witnessed last night, and for that I'm glad but mildly concerned, its best to get that sort of thing over with... however, I'm brutally incoherent in the mornings, as I pointed out to my deliciously scruffy companion, and if I need my wits about me, its best to wait until the afternoon. Especially with this hangover.

Things are good, I'm so tempted to be brutally graphic here because I know that none of these people will be reading it. However, there's something about being brutally graphic that goes against my nature.

Let's see. The usual dance continues, however I am not concerned with it. I can't bring myself to be very social, which means that groups are forming around me but not including me. I am mildly bothered by this, but again, caring is a bit beyond my reach. My emergency friends (yes, even I was prone to the emergency friend impulse) have moved past, and I just can't be bothered to make the official 'five week' friends. On vera.

My life rolls on in the background, I might be able to keep my job, I've got a call in. We are receiving schedules weekly and I'm not certain that I can schedule work that haphazardly. Again, on vera. Ma francais progresse, hier soir j'ai parlé avec quelques gens Quebecois, c'est la meilleure façon d'apprendre.

Too much drinking has left my body shaking, and its looking to be a raw food diet for the next month due to a lack of stoves. All I want right now is a big mug of tea.

A brief aside

With little time I can only say things in brief. Stories may not be forthcoming if I can't get some good computer time in before they fade.

I'm here, alive, all is well. UBC is beautiful of course and playing tour guide will be fun.

Drinking last night, people seem great, as they always do. Single room, my bed is comfortable.

Had two very nice phone calls yesterday, from people that I didn't expect to hear from. More when more becomes available.

I miss you all, I miss my computer!

Severed

I'm just getting ready to leave. Things on my mind? My distaste for sharing a room with someone and my distress at losing constant internet access for five weeks. The loving glow of the computer screen. Mmmm, glow. Shhh, there there, crazy lady, it will be alright. Everything's going to be aright.

It's bizarre and a little bit frightening (in a socio-cultural deterioration sense, not a boogeyman-spiders-things-that-go-bump-in-the-night sense). My brother in Europe is sending emails from the floor of a train via his companion's blackberry. Hang on a tic... now of course that's not common right now, not everyone has a handy little device that will do that. But its only a matter of time before we are connected constantly to the world around us as we walk. Last night I went for a two hour walk to the beach and along the water. I didn't bring my purse or phone, and even after having it for two weeks I felt somehow detached. What if someone needed to reach me? This is strange and not the least bit unsettling. Since when do I need to be reached?

My sense of technological necessity is growing, and I feel that without my internet connection I am lost. People understand, they empathize, they tell me how lost they would feel. But doesn't it make them uncomfortable to find themselves so dependent? Its an acute sense, I feel it actively. Without the internet at my fingertips I am aware that it is gone. It is not appropriate to be this connected to a human being. If I were dating the internet and couldn't bear to be separated from it for a month I would be seen as hopelessly codependent and pathetic. So why am I not pathetic for feeling this way about my computer? My music? My blog and instant messenger? Soon it will be the mobile phone, already I am thinking about how I will be giving it up in a month. Somehow, despite holding out on all this technology for so long, I am just as integrated as everyone else. Its scary.

The officially this is a temporary signoff. I will be updating as I can from the machines around campus, and doing what I can to keep up with people over email. After eight months of almost daily posting, I must say it will be strange not to write here. Expect updates to be long!

A Strange Morning

I woke up feeling unsettled. Laid in bed wondering what had come over me. I had been doing so well. I think this is the sensation of leaving, of my leaving settling in. And packing in silence has never been my thing.

I have such a sense of disconnection, of pointlessness and of being adrift. The strains of this opus wash over me, and I can think of it all in the past. What is the purpose of building a life anywhere if all we will do is leave? Such social creatures, we humans. This urgent need to connect, to feel that someone else is with us, because we cannot help but feel so alone. Ultimately I am the only one inside my head. I have grown so used to my own company, to silence broken only by my footsteps, my voice, my will. Anything else is an intrusion, unwelcome and jarring. My body feels heavy with guilt at this, but I can't help it. I crave solitude and company all at once. There are so few whose company I seek, and for the most part it is unattainable.

Went out with Julia again to check out cute coffee guys. And talk. You know, whichever is more interesting. I always wish we had a tape recorder, some of the things that come out of our mouths are quite ridiculous.

"I can fit my fist in my mouth! But you don't see me doing it."
"Hey so can I... maybe that's why we're whores?"

Touché Vancouver

So. Recap. Lets see.

Well, going out here costs far too much, I've decided. I've had two really great nights, but the price tag turns my stomach... that and the wretched hangover I am living through.

If I had a checklist of things that constituted a great night out, a list that I could go through the next day and tick things off, my night improving the more things were checked... I have a lot of ticks. Hair caught in my necklace. Exploded room. Hangover. Drunken emails. Strange pain.

I could get into details but they are not really necessary. Suffice to say there are things that weren't the best ideas I've ever had, but nothing so major that I'm panicky about them. I'm glad to be getting all of this out of my system, come Tuesday I am perhaps locked into a 'French Fascist Prison' with no hope of escape. Odds are better than I will end up switching to Colt45 because I can no longer afford to go out.

All I can say right now is "touché, Vancouver," and smile. I have to go nurse my tummy, poor muffin indeed.

Bender, Vancouver-style... night three

Strains of punk soothe my aching body, my stomach debates the merits of another night drinking. I'm looking forward to the next chapter... my plans just changed and I'm now needing to get out the door sooner than expected, so I will have to recap a little later.

Random Quote

If only I had written everything down, we sure come up with some funny shit. Julia and I are funny fucking people.

"I'm going to have to start substituting chocolate for sex."
"Wouldn't it melt?"

Long weekend... long wait

So my evening with John was great, apart from his talking in his sleep, we caught up and reestablished. Had a shorter but just as satisfying time with Dave. Had coffee with a very old friend and incredibly we click really well, it was great. All is well on this front. I am starting to fall back into the rhythm of things here, and frankly I'll be ripped out in a few days to go learn French anyways.

Went out to the boonies today to visit baby horses. High point of my day was definitely cruising through Cloverdale blasting pop that was outdated by at least five years. Amazing.

As much as I thought I would have to say, I can come up with little that doesn't strike me as totally boring. I mean, I did all those things, but does anyone really want to know about it? Uh no.

Tonight I waited for a phone call, and although things ended up coming together I am still unsure of what exactly happened. Apparently he never called me... so strange.

My attempts to develop musically continue unabated. My most recent joy is Camera Obscura and the Buzzcocks. Mmmm, punk.

Lame town

So tonight I went out for dinner and coffee with Jess, my phone dying and not being able to receive calls, I missed an invitation to go out pubbing. By the time I got home, not late by any standards, I had missed a potential ride. Leaving my options at a) get a cab or b) spend 45 minutes navigating some buses. Neither appealing. So I spent the night in with a glass of wine and South Park. It just upset me, because I would have loved to go out and meet some people, but alas, I was stuck here, trapped by the lameness of the city. Which got me thinking, that the reason all the bars here are upscale is because the people who frequent them need to be able to afford to go out. Going out here requires either a car, friends with cars, or cabbing (unless you want to spend a chunk of time on public transit). If you have none of these things, and don't have the desire to drop anywhere from $20 to $40 on cab rides, there's no party for you.

So no party for me, its 1am and I'm hoping that my weekend works out as planned. On the bright side, cute coffee guy and I are on speaking terms, exchanging the traditional 'hey how's it going' and 'see ya', as well as several prolonged stares as he passed by our table on his way in and out the door for his break. Ah cute coffee guy, you will be in my dreams tonight.

No going back

Today, quiet and empty like most of my days have been. I got up late and went to vote, then down to my old high school to visit some people. It was so odd to be back there, I felt so old and the place seemed so familiar. It looked cleaner than I remembered it, brighter. I was hoping to kick myself into realizing that not only was it impossible to go back anywhere, but that its better not to. My breakup with Montreal continues along predictable lines. I can't seem to shake any of its more unpleasant side effects, but can only hope to get over them sooner rather than later. Being busy will no doubt help.

Came home. Life here seems so boring, especially because I am not actually doing anything. These posts are happening because I am used to writing, not because I have much to report.

Had coffee with Katie yesterday and got a wave from the cute coffee guy. Oh good, now we are on a wave and smile.

I am worried that I won't be able to work while I am doing the French thing, and that's concerning. I don't want to lose my job. I hope it all works out.

Tomorrow I'm off to visit John for the night, which I'm looking forward to, I haven't seen him in ages and the last time we had a conversation I was hopped up on goofballs. It will be nice to hang out and get some quality time.

F*cking Wireless...

So I'm on this wireless business, and its damn slow and keeps crapping out at the worst times. As if I don't feel disconnected enough as it is! My training at work began today but is now on hiatus until our trainer gets back from holiday next week, which is when I am meant to be starting the damn French business. SO I have to go in and do my training on my own, which is lousy and annoying and frankly I just want to start working and earning some monies.

For some reason typing isn't going so well, it freezes and backlogs a bunch of text and if I make any mistakes they only appear to me after I'm a few lines down, really annoying as well. As if losing internet all the time wasn't enough trouble.

I'm going to have to shorten and crap out on this post a bit because of my troubles, sorry to say. Last night reunited with a group of girls who probably haven't all sat in the same room together since... well for a damn long time and certainly not with me involved for a while. We've all grown up a lot, some more than others. It was strange, I have spent so long feeling like we didn't understand each other at all, and suddenly we were more alike than I remembered us ever being. It was a nice surprise.

Right now my connection seems to be holding, and I'm engaged in two conversations that I've been craving for what feels like ages. I miss them so much it hurts sometimes.

One song

I had a great night. I was going to post about it, but instead I am going to watch Star Trek and sip water, a pretty standard evening except that I am camped out in my brother's bedroom instead of slumped against the wall of my familiar Montreal home... and that I can't shake this strange feeling. Here are some words.

My city is still breathing, though barely it's true

Through buildings gone missing like teeth

The sidewalks are watching me think about you, sparkled with broken glass

I'm back with scars to show, back to the streets I know will never take me anywhere but here

This stain in the carpet, this drink in my hand

The strangers whose faces I know

We meet here for our dress rehearsal to say, "I wanted it this way."

Wait for the year to drown, spring forward, fall back down

I'm trying not to wonder where you are

All this time lingers undefined

Someone choose who's left and who's leaving

Memory will rust and erode into lists of all that you gave me

A blanket, some matches, this pain in my chest, the best parts of lonely

Duct tape and soldered wire, new words for old desires

And every birthday card I threw away

I wait in four-four time, count yellow highway lines

That you're relying on to lead you home

That you're relying on to lead you home

That you're relying on to lead you home

- The Weakerthans

Typical Whistler

Julia says she has never had a bad night up at Whistler. I believe her, I haven't either.

We got out of town in the rain, Friday afternoon, and as tradition dictates stopped in Squamish to take in the Chief and the McDonald's fireplace. Such a strange McDonalds. Julia is one of my friends that I never keep in touch with, but we fall right back into knowing each other as if we'd never left. I guess that is the friendship that comes after 21 years.

We swept out the door around nine, after four beers to start the evening off. I should have sensed trouble as I sat around in the cab feeling far too sober. Three martinis at dinner later, we wandered through the village between points 'A' and 'B', past a few bars, and along to point 'C' before coming back to where we'd started to reassess. Of course it didn't take long.

He owned a bar in Seattle, as did a few of his friends. They were up in town for a bachelor-party style weekend. We benefited. Julia feigned disinterest at his offer of shots. Of course we traipsed into the bar after a few minutes, it was getting cold outside and who turns down shots?

The night progressed, and we continued to drink and led them back to another bar. I had given up after the Irish Carbomb. I was into superiority mode, and one of them was buying it... expressing his belief that I was the most incredible person he had ever met. I agreed that I probably was. That's how it goes sometimes. Also ran into an old non-friend, whose number now sits on my ratty number sheet (must get a phone book for Vancouver!) and who will apparently be calling me soon. Julia is convinced he wants in my pants, I agree, but don't see why that should prevent us from hanging out.

When the lights came up we staggered out of the bar, thankfully there was no repeat of our previous escapades, and we made it to the cabstand without falling down any stairs. Success! Home met us with warm food, water and a soak in the hot tub, we crawled into bed around four.

Yesterday we were far too hungover to do anything but watch movies and moan. It rained, and we decided to head back to town once our headaches subsided. Twenty-eight hours in Whistler were, as always, amazing.

Last night I was planning a night in with some pay-per-view movies, but my plans were interrupted by msn. Sweet sweet internet, I am back up and running on my own machine, with my music. The melancholy tones of Dashboard are keeping my dreary morning company as it drifts into the afternoon. Last night was a typical Vancouver evening: early, sober. My breakup with Montreal continues, and I am exhibiting all the signs. Obsessive behaviour, sadness, the urge to find something to fill the void. I spoke to him this morning for the first time in a long time, or what feels like a long time. As we were arguing over the spelling of holy, I suddenly realized that we might never fight in person again, and a wave of sadness swept over me. How much did I lose when I left?

Envy

Last night I attended the McGill Rendezvous for newly admitted students from Vancouver. I have to admit, I was so jealous of them for having the opportunity to do it all from the start. Just remembering my first year, the great times I had there, it was like seeing someone for the first time after a breakup, and I drove home feeling that empty sensation again.

One particular interaction stands out in my mind, a sweet girl who was concerned about workload, and our conversation wound its way across the gamut of fears into the big social ones. I told her how I had been somewhat reserved and awkward, socially uncomfortable when I went out, how I had known few people, and had no friends with me. I told her how amazing it was, how many people I had met, and how my best friend there had lived next door to me in rez, and had been the last person to see me out of my home before I left. She looked at me wide-eyed, and smiled, told me how reassuring I had been. She then exclaimed, "you're so cool!". I laughed to myself, because I knew that I wasn't, but that once you finish high school that changes. Cool becomes ubiquitous. Cool becomes everyone's domain in a different way. That's why my time at McGill was so great. Everyone I met was cool.

Had just had my hair cut and I must have looked better than usual. Was subtly chatted up (not by a high school student, thank you very much), which also warranted an internal smile, he was an attractive guy.

Now? This weekend I am off to Whistler with Julia to recapture some of our Montreal insanity in a beautiful Westcoast setting. My bikini is packed and the beer is cold, bring on the boys.

Trees and sunshine

I did post yesterday, but the evil internet dingo ate my words, and I was too tired/drunk to write them again. So it goes.

The basic gist of the thing went as such: got a job at Chapter's working for the man, its weird to be home and I miss people. I miss my computer, my music and my life. Called an old ex, and that went over like a bucket of cold sick. Um um um, yeah. Probably more about how surreal this feels, how strangely familiar and sadly empty.

Today was better, brightened immensely by a visit to my favourite teacher in the world. He is still the same, kind and soft spoken, a generous smile and gentle humour. Of all the people in the world I wanted to tell about my Oxford news, he was very high on the list. When we were joking about my success being due to his teaching, I told him that if I wrote a book I would dedicate it to him, and the best part was that it wasn't a lie. He believed the best in me when everyone, including myself, believed the worst. I think he is maybe the first person who saw me as I could be, as I have become.

I had coffee with Julia tonight, lovely because she knows 'Montreal me' and I don't have to censor my vulgarity or caustic wit. We traded stories and memories and explored the strange new world we were both inhabiting. She has done very well adapting and I hope that I can be as successful. I have my doubts.

Time Zones

I have decided to keep this blog on Montreal time, since otherwise I will lose the time zone from all my previous posts. Feel free to subtract 3 hours.

Surreality

Things are so strange here. I forget how soft the water is and use too much shampoo, then miss my own shower. I have nowhere to hang my washcloth.

They keep the windows open. It is cold. The sky is grey and I long for the Montreal sunshine. Was it really yesterday that I met him for lunch on campus? That I walked in a tank top to Parc? It all feels like some bizarre dream, and I am dying to go back to sleep.

This city smells different, the trees, the water in the air. I can hardly remember why I miss Montreal, why I wish I were back there, but I do. Do all things have to end? I spent so much time yesterday crying, and at the moment I can't remember why. I can hardly remember the feelings. Now I just feel adrift and wrong and so strange.

I know I will adjust to this city again, its dull, repetitive nights will become commonplace. The clones wandering the streets, the Starbucks coffee, the empty friendships. I know these things. I hate these things. I hate how quickly I am forgetting my old life, feeling it slip away as this city closes in. I don't want this to become normal. Oxford is cold comfort to me right now.

Must go interview and pretend to be my old self. I forgot how hard it is to keep my old personality intact. I am so scared I will never find her again.

Here I am

So its late, and I am so drunk, as is befitting for my last night.

I listen to his songs and I cry, his voice is so touching, so poignant, and unbearably sad.

Its so terrifying, to be done here. My last stumble home across the overpass.

My last very difficult blog entry after a drunken Montreal night.

Goodnight, much love, its all over now.

Last day

I woke up at six, seven and nine, unable to fall back asleep. His songs played through my head and I felt that same pain in my chest. This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do.

We walked for two hours, spent another three still and talking. I feel as if we are closer now than we ever were, as if things continue to progress under the auspices of friendship. He has been nothing but a good friend to me, and there is comfort in that fact. I will miss him.

I hate goodbyes, I hate this leaving, the emptiness of my home and the knowledge that I will never have this again. But it is already gone, and I am grieving for something that I have already lost. That somehow makes it easier, knowing that there is no way to hold on to this anymore. I almost want it all to be over, to release the tension in my chest. I am about to eat my first real meal in two days, having been unable to stomach much more than tea since Friday morning. Its still touch and go, I will be forcing myself to eat and still my shaking hands.

Today? Today is my last day. Tonight my last night. I am so sad.

If I am still online tomorrow I will post again, but otherwise goodbye. This is the end of my time in Montreal. I will keep 'onemoreyear' going until I leave for Oxford in the fall, but it will never be this way again. Vancouver doesn't lend itself well to journals.

Farewell, and take care.

Two nights

I have two nights left, the past two nights and days have been melancholy.

Thursday I briefly commented on my evening. As much as I would have liked to spend the night dancing drunkenly at Cafe Campus for the last time, I am happy to leave last Thursday as my last night there, and take this one for the team. I just know that I don't handle breakups well, and that is fair enough I suppose. He kept saying how my comments were fair, but I just felt awful for saying those things to him. I can't bear to say sharp things to people I care about, no matter how much I think he deserved it. I wish there were something I could do or say to make it all alright between us, and I hate how things are being left this way.

He won't come on Sunday for fear that my friends will hate him. I said to Numoy on the phone, what is it about my boyfriends/ex-boyfriends? Why do they always think this? Is it because they treat me like shit and I tell my friends?!

I can't shake this heavy, empty feeling inside of me. I wake up and can't fall back asleep, feeling so alone and wishing he were there next to me, some crutch to help me through. Any crutch will do.

Last night Leah came into town, for one last hurrah and a last goodbye. She left so early that I couldn't muster any emotion, and it is probably better this way. I am constantly on the verge of tears.

Took my walls down today, and my home is bare and cold. I folded up my blue sheet and thought about all the things it reminded me of. My life is in boxes and my memories are folded away. It will be so strange to unpack these things in Vancouver, in another life.

And now I must go, to take advantage of a crutch, thank god some are still willing to help me.

I don't think I've ever felt more conflicted than I do right now... so much for being hot.

I am so lonely at this moment.

I don't think I have ever felt hotter than I do right now. SNAP!

The sound of settling

They are tearing up the Parc-Pins overpass, somehow symbolic of my life here falling away. That route of death was standard in first year, stumbling home in the blowing snow. It is where we came up with rule number nine, on a cold, wet day in March 2002. The city changes, and I am leaving her to do so.

Just had an awful run-in with my most recent 'ex' (god, there are seriously millions by now) when I wasn't expecting to, and majorly made an ass by ignoring him quite pointedly. Smelsea thought he wanted to hang out with me, but I just stared at the floor until he was gone. We are meant to hang out tonight. I go from being totally fine to a total headcase. I burst into tears on the phone with my mother, not explaining why I was so wretchedly upset. I sometimes wonder if I should give up dating altogether.

As I said to Numoy on the phone later on, I can't handle the 'dial-a-D' type relationship, which leaves me with blind one-night stands or messy emotions in the long run... and since I don't go in for the one-night stands on principle, that leaves me with a choice: I can either get involved, get hurt, but get laid OR give up the D. Its a tough choice. So far I've opted for the D.

Which brings me to the issue of this summer, as I doubt that I can get through five months without sex. Mentally looking around, I have no direct links to anyone that I could potentially D without having to worry about a mess involved (ex-boyfriends, old friends, that sort of thing). There's someone I vaguely know who is heading home as well who I do find attractive that I was considering, in an off-hand 'we'll see what happens and play it by ear' sort of way.

I am sitting with Curly (who also knows this 'VanMan') yesterday, lamenting my upcoming dry summer, and he looks at me seriously for a moment and says, "Well I think you should have sex with VanMan". That's all I needed to hear, and I am hoping that it all works out well for everyone.

Already gone

I feel like I am walking through ghosts, buildings full of people that are, for all intents and purposes, dead to me. I don't really bother with goodbyes, because who am I to say goodbye to? I shipped more things away today and the emptiness of my apartment is upsetting.

Last night we said farewell to Krista, off to Kenya for an adventure in a few hours. In fact, her taxi is right now pulling away from home. The night was less full than I had anticipated, and preferable that way, although I missed several groups by very little time. I can't bring myself to mind much. I can't bring myself to care much about anything. I feel as if I am already gone, that leaving will be a relief. This is sad, I don't want to wish myself away.

I miss him more than I should. I have grown accustomed to feeling this way, but that doesn't make it easier to ignore. I miss him. His support would have been so welcome this week, but perhaps it is easier this way, that I will not miss him as much when I go. It will be one less thing to lose. We are going out tomorrow night, for the night, and I am afraid of what we'll do. I don't want to drink with him, nor do I wish to act foolishly. I am convinced that he cheated, regardless of what he says. Although to my knowledge, he has never lied to me, I can't believe him this time.

So much is already gone, and I am slipping away.

Self-Destruct

As if I thought Friday night was bad... my weekend degenerated rapidly into self-destruction. After following my rules to a 'T', I stepped over the edge into oblivion. I became somebody else for a night. She wasn't kind to my body, and the next day left me in considerable pain. Such is the price to pay for such self-abuse. I know that I will not be abusing any substances in the near future, and those I do abuse will be mostly legal.

I still feel mildly wretched. I can't shake this gaping hole that has appeared in me, a side effect of the drugs and the rejection. I am packing and doing laundry in a half-baked daze, wondering if all of this is real.

I finally heard things that I have always wanted to hear, and that was a small victory. The larger victory was how I reacted, with a smile and a sense of satisfaction, but nothing more. I have come out of the other side now, and things are different over here.

Rushing to push myself back into normalcy in time for my departure is taking its toll, I vacillate wildly from deep sadness and regret, to anger and then into resignation. I cannot stay angry because it costs too much, I cannot stay sad because it hurts. I need to reconcile all of this by Sunday. I hate him for putting me here.