Thursday, December 31, 2009


2009 was a horrible year. I have lost more this year than I have in nearly two decades. I am coping. It is not easy, but like everything, it will pass.

I was standing in a room full of people I grew up with the other night. People I thought I knew so well, people I was once so comfortable around, people I assumed would be a part of my life forever. I have never felt more awkward or upset. I suppose I feel like I'm someone who easily slips to the bottom of lists. I am not new or exciting or outgoing; I am odd and shy and afraid. And I think most people know and understand that I am not going anywhere, that I will always be around to fall back on when needed. I'm just lonely. My former friends don't answer my calls or messages. I am guilty of ignoring calls and backing out of plans as well, but it isn't because I've found something better to do; it's because I don't know how to adapt.

I stand a stranger in my skin. I keep hearing about people I went to school with getting married and having babies. I see photos of weddings and showers and fuzzy little newborns. And I worry. I want those things, but I can't imagine them ever happening. 2020 is not very far away. I will be almost 30. That is not very old, either, but it is impossible to imagine what my life will be like. The girl who stands at the edge of this decade is still very much the girl who, at 9 years old, could not keep her eyes open long enough to welcome in the year 2000.

And then there are times I realize there is nothing to worry about. I am sitting here, typing, trying to care about semicolons and the sounds certain letters make. My mother is consumed by a Harlequin on the couch next to me. We are absorbed and separate and together and there is the moment we both realize my brother is wailing like a thrasher and has been wailing and he's insane and I turn to her and I roll my eyes and she peers over her novel and we laugh and laugh and laugh and I am home and life is beautiful and there is hope.

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Snapshot Sunday

Sort of. Didn't really document much, because I didn't do much. But there was a sunset. And there were cookies. And blankets.

I think that's what Sundays are made of.

You visit the store daily. You remind me of all the people I have ever loved, and your ipod is always in your hand and you openly laugh at tabloids. Your laughter is clear and true and it is familiar. Today, I smiled and I told you to have a good day and I really meant it this time. And then you left. Your hat was crooked and your coat was unbuttoned and you greeted the freshly fallen snow with a perplexed grin. My heart sank and you didn't even know and you will never know and you are my illusion and my secret and I hope that your wife knows exactly how dear you are.

Friday, December 18, 2009


You wished me a happy birthday today.
I thought that I didn't hurt anymore.
I was wrong.

Seeing your name on that text message nearly stopped my heart.
I just miss you. And I feel pathetic.


Saturday, December 12, 2009


I am very, very thrilled.


I have a new camera.