What now?

Aim high. That way when you fail miserably it’s still an accomplishment.

Sometimes you just have to put it out there to get it out of you. I always bottle everything up, and I’m miserable. So now I’m just getting it out of me. Here goes:

March 23, 2008

She scratched at her neck.

The seatbelt was grinding into her skin.

It always itched her tender neck, especially in the August heat. It was August now,

That damn seatbelt was all she could think about.

She wished that were true.

His face kept popping up in her mind as well.

His face and that damn itching.

The wind whipped her hair, and stung her hand as it slipped outside the window.

“Keep all hands and feet inside the moving vehicle.”

She stuck her hand out.

It always bugged him, its so childlike he would say. You’re not a child.

But wasn’t she?

19 is a child.

She was wise from life,

But 69 could still be a child.

What was an adult?

And again it itched her. Her sweat made it worse, incessant scratching. Raw, her skin began to turn red, and the radio started to float in and out as she hit the dirt road.

Damn seat belt, why don’t I just take it off?

That’s not right.

That’s unsafe. She could get in a wreck and then where would she be? And that was her luck. The one time she wasn’t wearing her seat belt she would get in an accident. Her parents would wonder why she wasn’t wearing it. The police would say, “if only she had worn her seat belt.”

But they wouldn’t understand about the itching.

“Why are you wearing your seat belt? We’re not going anywhere yet.”

Its habit.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

What constitutes an adult anyway? Do they have all the answers? I’m 19. I’m a legal adult and feel more lost now then when I was 9. I used to want to go to Harvard. I was going to be a doctor. I was good at science. I made an A in science. I’m 19 and I hate science. And math. I’m not good at them. But I’m 19 so I’m an adult, right? When I was 9 I thought adults knew everything. That’s what being an adult was, you knew everything. I’ve always wanted to know everything. No matter how bad it hurts. And it does hurt. So bad. So bad. I wish I could cry it out, but then it wouldn’t be in me, and I want it to be in me, I want to remember it, I don’t ever want to lose that feeling, those memories. But they taint me. Taint. Taint taint. I am tainted. I am unclean. Jesus save me. I am unclean. Am I savable? I can’t save me, and I don’t want the others to save me. I’m not ok. You made me not ok. Can’t you save me?

“It’s impossible to get angry, unless you’re capable of loving deeply…”

The Choice

Breakfast at Tiffany’s

My Sister’s Keeper

In Cold Blood

The Red Tent

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

The English Patient

Cold Mountain (re-reading)

Lock and Key

Spindle’s End (re-reading)

She’s Come Undone

The Pilot’s Wife

The Road

Love in the Time of Cholera

All the Pretty Horses

Skylight Confessions

Blackbird House

The Ice Queen

The Probable Future

The River King

Do you ever just feel like your life just couldn’t get any worse–I mean you’ve literally hit rock bottom–and yet, you are so at peace (whether it’s just because you can’t process anymore information or for whatever other psychological reason I’m sure) with life, that you just don’t give a damn. At least temporarily.

i be going to Cali baby!