glorypox

so yea. evidently i wrote in here last night. when i have a minute i’ll read over it. decide if i want to keep it. there are still other things to do. my german. look up grades. pack slowly for the next two months. of course last night was nice. eating with joey and christy. out in the courtyard plus some people. a few hours sleep. the comfort of going home soon.

but i really don’t know. my puffy eyes distracted me yesterday. kept bringing me back. so what if i’m rereading. who cares. the dogwood i passed? only sentimental. so many bad things have happened here, only some of which i can honestly remember. am i avoiding it by leaving? should i really stay? but these people won’t change. owen will always creep into some girl’s bed at night. joey will always be hovering around them. megan will always be drunk and julie will always be wearing one shoe.i’ll always feel timid here. it’s rough to arrive with no one to help you. not even a roomate who lives in your damn room. always finding something to do and wondering what’s happening somewhere else. running away from it. i thought it would be so nice.sort of like jacob’s bedroom that morning except without him touching me and maybe with me remembering the night before it. the sunlight and feel of someone beside me. i didn’t know him and never will. the guy who slept on my floor that no one knows the truth about. the longest weekend of my life, when rob came here. the sniffling with dilated eyes. how nice it felt to have him there. instead, i always wind up here. waiting and rushing and getting nothing done.

so maybe he was right, although he denied it later. love is a lost art. you only love everything if you have no heart. only if you’re a careless creature who throws things away and sprints off so second thoughts can never be had. i don’t love or feel or think. i just do as told and aim to serve when asked, even in such an uncharming way by ben when his kiss tastes like whiskey and gin or perhaps rum. his eyes glazed over. not seeing but only touching. he is not the point. the fact is that he was right and i’m consistent and wrong but few take into consideration the things i need, and never so much want.

so i’ll break a heart. i’ll drive that drive no matter what the span of time it covers. if it takes me two days i won’t mind. it’s only if it never happens that i’ll sit forlorn. saddened by the thing i lost and could never refind. like john. like peter. like kayleigh. keep hurting me. i don’t care anymore. i’ve learned my damn lesson. there are no heroes. you fight to benefit not to protect. you live like the child i always wished i was. so over again my aged conscious scolds me before it settles away again until another morning. until i walk through another silent wedding alone. only the flowers on the floor to indicate that it is incarnate.

i guess, even though it does no good to any, that i’ll still wish. i hope to be brushed up. to stay. to look and watch. to clean up with fatigue and a smile. to go out somewhere. to forget all over again.

~debbi