seventeen again.

Ive spent the majority of my spell at college quantifying time. I allot hours to get things done, to put my feelings aside and be an ear and friend for my dad, to go running, to do pilates, to sleep, to be with jake, to be drunk, to be alone and watch greys anatomy.. etc.

which means, yes, im organized. yes im punctual. yes im rested.

but today, my mind is silent. there are things i could do for school, but nothing is really materializing. my apartment is empty. my mom just left. my dad just told me he's going to some huge halloween bash as a gangster (things like this just go into some "i cant even think about this right now" space inside of me), and I havent seen Jake since tuesday.

I've been sitting on my bed (not even on my computer) staring at my ceiling fan which is broken and wont turn off. Or i was just in the shower trying to come up with some productive plan for my day, and when i couldnt make one, i sat down, pulled my knees up into a hug, and cried.

I cried until the water was cold.

I realize that my life is small. but it wears me out just the same. Im very good at putting things away in nice little compartments. i love not thinking and not talking about things. Jake is waiting on me to talk through what happened this week. and i cant even get there. Im miserable and sad without him, but i dont want to hear about how horrible I was and why he has every right not to want to be near me. I just miss him. and I want him to miss me too.

theres a song by Ingrid michaelson called "the hat." listen to it. whomever you are. I'm not sure if i will ever stop wishing that i was seventeen again. sleeping on a pallett with my best friend, watching lord of the rings, with my parents sharing the couch in the living room and watching the nba together. kali should be 22 this week.

i really think that i hurt all the time. im not sure that i dont believe that losing k was my fault. or that my parents divorcing was because i didnt pull through. i have little boxes inside of me with peoples names on the label slot. i devote specific amounts of time to taking care of them. opening them up, wrapping them for the holidays, and then pushing them back onto the shelf and moving on to the next.

the problem with jake and me is simple. in a terribly ironic and painful way. where i have lots of inside boxes, jake just has one. and its for me.

i dont know how to fix this. so ill keep breathing. all i can do is keep breathing.