at night it confronts me as would a tent of heavy fabric, wrapped around me and suddenly the tent pole falls. canvas a foot thick presses me down to the ground. i struggle to breathe, to think, to see. i struggle not to feel and to reason away the pain.

this weekend is etched in my mind as an insanely colorful parody of life. a mocking and serious commentary all at once. so much so that i find myself looking, searching for the name 'dali' painted in the corners. it always seems like a good idea. it always seems like he's trying. but im too confused to tell the difference anymore. or to try.

i find now that i have options, and the ability to consider and appreciate those options. then i say to myself that i dont want options, i want stability, maturity, consistency, and love. but i dont have these things.

it always scares me

when i plug something into an outlet, and that fleshy part of my finger comes into contact with the metal right as the prongs go into the socket. it scares me. perhaps because i've touched a wire before and felt the electricity race through my arm. it hurts. and im afraid that one of these times it will keep going. it wont be just that thrill of the energy coursing through my body...no, it will hurt...for so long and then stop. but it wont stop because my hand wont have left the metal. it wont stop, but i wont feel it anymore. i wont feel anything anymore.

its just so painfully obvious
and im forced to watch
and it hurts
like hell

this past week...

i just feel like im walking around in a fog...at night...and im not quite sure where the cliff is or what im about to step on. i keep getting hurt by the things i didnt guard against, and sometimes even by the things i did.

RA

i much prefer to sit back
to be there when needed...and when not?
wait,
or run around with my friends
but im still there,
there to catch the ones who fall through the cracks.
its not really me catching them anyway
His hands are much stronger than mine.
i am His
to use as He pleases.

that is why im not doing RA.
i want to be there for the others.

snip.

the silver sound of the scissors slid through the air
cutting
severing that one thought
slicing out that one little part
she most wanted to forget

cold and sharp, the blades made a metallic
singing noise as they slowly closed.
a ringing
that sang of their keen edges meeting
and the quick clip as they lay together
side by side
their work done.

one event, one word, one face
one smell, one memory, one thought
swirling around her head
and bouncing off the back of her skull
reverberating painfully in her consciousness.

snip*

and it was gone.

i hate it i hate it i hate it and i hate that i hate it

why?

because i cant stop looking at the application and realizing i cant do it. i dont have the motivation or the drive or the leadership ability. i dont have the creativity or the ability to make people excited about things. because i am selfish and tired. because my heart is still hard, and its all i can do to keep breathing in every day. because if God needs me there, he will put me there with or without an application. because i cannot seem to even see my own problems much less work on them. because i never know what to say. because im not a leader. because im not sure if its where i need to be or because i selfishly want to be looked up to. respected. because it started out as a whim. because i couldnt do it on my own. because i wouldnt inflict that on others. because i just cant. i cant do it.

i know we cant be perfect. i know we dont have to be perfect for God to use us. i just feel like im somehow too imperfect. im not a leader or an administrator. i want to be a counselor. i want to have relationships with my friends, and im not the kind of person who can juggle fifty different friendships. and i wont sacrifice any of you.

so i'm not going out for RA...

a conversation

Lord, please dont let me go. im sliding back, Lord. please dont let me go.

sometimes you just have to go forward. no matter how easy or inevitable the slide backwards is, sometimes you just have to not slide. dont do it, lauren...its your choice. you want to be weak, you want an excuse to let go...to not work at it anymore. but i wont give you one.

it hurts.

its supposed to. its called healing.

will it ever not be there?

no.

why?

you remember the night you sat there and battled with yourself. looking down on the lights of chattanooga?

yeah.

you had a choice. you made your choice. you knew how i wanted you to choose and you disobeyed.

im sorry.

i know. i know it hurts. but you chose what to do. i didnt stop you.

i wish you had.

listen to me next time, dearest. listen and you wont feel this way.

i think it should go away. it should be like a speed bump. you get over it. sure its uncomfortable but you get over it and forget it. but its not. its like a scar. like a burden. like that dull ache in my side that sends me to the hospital every few years. except they have medicine for that ache. they have really great drugs that make all the pain go away...well almost all the pain. i want to drown this in drugs...but thats too easy isnt it?

i love you.

but it hurts.

i know. i love you, dearest.

i know. but it hurts. will you ever let it stop hurting?

....

why arent you answering me? why cant you tell me? why cant you promise me what i ask? i dont want to think anymore. i dont.

you need to love me.

i try. you know i try.

i know. you need to love me.

fine. i can say it a million times over. millions of times. but i cant make myself feel it, God. you are going to have to do that. i need you to pursue me. i cant make myself love you. i cant. goodnight now... i love you.

i love you too, dearest. good night.

a strange thought just occured to me...

have i become something i am not? or have i become closer to who i am? for so long i wanted to be what i just saw in myself...but now that im there, what the hell am i supposed to do? has all of my striving to change the shyness that plagued my past finally pulled me through that curtain that was my insecurity? or am i just acting again, acting well enough so that even i cannot tell the difference?

perhaps its just a novel situation. with all the right players.

i like watching people sleep in the sunlight.

that story i wrote over break...very rough, be warned

the gentle chords from her favorite song drifted faintly from the computer as she packed up the rest of her things. she would leave the computer for last. she needed the music too much right now. it was the only thing keeping it all in. like a dam, a fragile dam made of sticks. thats how she saw the music. the gentle lulling of the guitar. she couldnt let herself think now. just pack. keep packing.

her back started to ache from the repetitive bending and lifting. the closet looked so empty and forelorn. somehow, it didnt read as a closet without clothes in it. just the bare metal rod with the mismatched hangars swinging slowly back and forth. she couldnt take them. not enough room. all she had was the car to take everything.

she always hated packing. she ended up realizing how little she really needed and comparing that to how much she actually owned and packed was depressing and frustrating.

a sound came from downstairs and she froze. every nerve tensed as she strained to listen. not daring to lunge at the computer to turn the music down, she waited, hoping to not hear his footsteps.

"please dont let him be home yet. please." she pleaded with silence that met her ears. this was the worst possible time for him to come home. she was supposed to be done when he came home. car packed, tragically beautiful, leaning against the car with tears staining her cheeks. he was supposed to run to her and beg her to tell him why. but they both knew why. well, she thought they both knew why. it wasnt as if they had actually been in contact with each other. it was amazing how far away you could be from the person on the other side of the bed.

now would be the most perfectly awful time for him to get home. "of course," she thought, "it would be a fitting end to a relationship of bad timing." things were always happening at the worst possible moments with him. she shuddered at this thought, and pushed it from her mind. she steeled herself for the confrontation she was bound to have. just a few more seconds left before...

but nothing happened. no footsteps. no door closing. no keys hitting the table. nothing. she stood, slightly shocked that things might still actually work out like the pretty little picture painted in her head. she shook her head slightly to clear it, and turned to attend to the cardboard boxes surrounded by her massive collection of useless things when she stopped. "no," she said aloud, "no, im done with this." she was fed up with all of the things before her. too much of it was "theirs," and thats what she was running from. grabbing her duffel bag, she stuffed a few shirts, a pair of jeans, her contacts case and her makeup bag into it. the big duffel sagged with emptiness as she unplugged her laptop, cutting the music off mid-chord, and shoved it in her old bookbag along with her power cord and phone charger. quickly, she grabbed a little, yellow postit and scribbled out a message to him telling him to give the rest of her stuff away if he didnt feel like burning it.

"that was a really dumb way to word that." she thought to herself as she headed for the car, grabbing her keys and purse off the kitchen table. as she turned towards the front door, a soft mewing noise cut through the silence of the house and made her jolt. she looked around and saw the little seven week old kitten staring up at her from its empty bowl. its hungry mewling begged her with all the innocence a tiny kitten can possess. she stood there, unable to move. the little kitten trotted toward her and she grimaced with pain as it wove itself between and around her ankles. looking back over her shoulder and out the window to see if he had pulled up yet, she quickly reached down and scooped up the little, crying thing and tucked it close to her chest, under her neck. the gentle purring made her eyes prick with tears.

"why am i doing this?" she thought. "why am i taking him with me? what good does it do to leave all of 'our' things only to take the kitten? of all things, the kitten is the one that most needs to stay." but she hurried on with the gentle, purring warmth under her chin.

amazing that even their song playing as she was packing was unable to crack the hard shell she had wrapped herself in. not even the most pining and painful lyrics had made her cry. she wanted to a little, just to justify that she was actually in pain, and not just that horrible numbness that engulfed her. amazing, to her, that going through all the things that reminded her of him and the small little life they had tried so awkwardly to build together wouldnt make her cry. but, as she walked hurriedly to the car with tears streaming silently down her cheeks and onto the kitten, she wondered at how that round little ball of fur could somehow mean everything to her. wrapped up in its tiny little body were all the things the artifacts upstairs should mean, but somehow didnt retain. all the feelings, all the goodness they had together, was, in her mind, that helpless creature she cradle so gently. and even more amazing to her was that she chose to take the kitten with her. she didnt want to remember this, she told herself. this was ending and supposed to be forgotten. the kitten was the last thing she needed to take with her. but she merely held the little body closer and quicked her already quick stride down the walkway to her car.

the walkway was damp. the rain that had fallen while she was packing (incorporate in beginning; distant roll of thunder as a theme...getting fainter and fainter) had ceased at some point without her notice. it was a warm october day. warm for october at least. the coolness from the rain was not yet sharp enough to cut through her light sweater. she struggled awkwardly with the wet door handle, trying to balance her two bags, and almost stumbling as her backpack slipped to one side and her purse dropped from her shoulder and into the bend of her elbow. still cradling the kitten, she slammed the door of her car shut, and turned to get in the driver's side.

the crackle of the tires slowing down on the wet road made her stomach drop. she grimaced, then quickly tried to compose her features to the emotion which she wished to show. she didnt want him to see her pain, especially since she had only just seen it herself.

the black honda pulled slowly up the driveway with a hesitancy that she knew was from the sight of her standing there, hair disheveled, looking nothing like the tragic beauty she had planned to. caught halfway in her flight, guiltily standing there with the little grey kitten tucked close to her chest. she had meant to be very forthright in her flee from the relationship. she had meant to wait until he got home. she had meant for him to see her standing there with an honest expression of her logical decision to leave him and all that they had become. but instead, she met his face with hers twisted with pain and tears streaking her cheeks with a little purloined kitten clutched so desperately to herself.

"Ellie," he questioned hesitantly, "what..." trailing off, he stood there, still taking in what he was seeing. Trying to process it all and sustain intelligent conversation seemed to be too much.

the kitten started mewing and squirming to be put down. the sight and sound of as large a beast as a car had frightened him. she bounced him gently and hushed him without thinking. she was frozen to the ground. she couldnt think of any plausible course of action or fitting sentence to interject with. so she stood there, waiting.

James looked at his fiance standing there with the little kitten held so closely to her. he could gather from her pained expression that something big was happening. she looked so scared. and he couldnt tell why. God dont let me be the reason for this. he prayed.

"im leaving," she blurted out. damn it, she thought, what the hell happened to staying quiet and waiting. that was possibly the worst way to say it. nothing like how she had seen it in her head. though, by now, the picture in her head so clashed with the tableax now set that she decided to forget the whole thing. "dont ask me why, James, we both know why."

"okay." he said.

she was nearly knocked down by the response. what? she thought. she'd fully expected him to blow up then and there, yelling something like 'what the hell do you mean dont ask why? of course im going to bloody ask why!" but, this single, simple word. he was letting her go. she scoffed at her expectation as soon as she realized what she had expected. when did he ever show emotion? when did he ever go out on a limb, even for her. when did he ever stick it out in an uncomfortable situation? why the hell had she expected him to do it now?

"okay" she said.

why the hell is he just standing there. do something! yell at me...dammit, ask me why. she'd been wanting to tell him why ever since they first started having problems. ever since they first started dating. she wanted to tell him why. but she couldnt, he had to ask first. he had to ask. why wont you ask? she pleaded in her mind. i just want to tell you why.

he stood there with his hands in the pockets of his grey slacks. no tie today. just the nice shirt. the suit coat was still in the car. he'd forgotten it, apparently, when he saw her. he glanced off a little to his right and then at his feet before meeting her eyes again. she just stared. every ounce of her was concentrated on the silent wish for just one word.

no really, im okay

seriously. im fine. i just relapsed for a night. ok, well im not fine, but im not...oh hell, i dont know. right now im tired. i cant think. the previous post was brought on by a long conversation and another mention of the word stalker. i know i know. i f.ucked up. im sorry. damn it all, do i have to be reminded? why cant it have just never happened? im not sure why or when or ...im really tired. i cant keep a thought for longer than...

good night. northshore tomorrow. it makes me happy.

heaven forbid...

----.