talent

Why I am disgustingly proud of myself right now:
---Last night was composed of 3 shots of whiskey, 3 shots of rum and about 8 or 9 shots of vodka. Not only did I not throw up, but I am not hungover. Heck yes!
---My much older crush from grades 9 to 12 Facebooked me yesterday and I didn't revert into crazy "oh my gosh I want you so bad and I miss you and you are my everything" Lilith. Just a simple "hey you! you're alive! what's been going on?". Perfectly respectable.
---I went to Bible Study last night. Even though I haven't exactly read the thing, it was amusing. And quite interesting actually.
---I managed not to get really mad at Rob when he left yesterday for the weekend. I mean, ok...it's his last weekend with his parents not being at home so he obviously wants to go have fun. And he did invite me down, but I already said I was going home with another friend for the weekend. So I really shouldn't be making a big deal over this. I trust him, he trusts me. It just sucks not seeing him. Majourly.
---While hanging out with two of my favourite people yesterday, I found the two shot glasses I was missing! Not a big deal, but these are my really classy doubleshot ones that are perfect for lemondrops and doing body shots. Mmhmm yum.

So basically I rock. =D

runaway symphony

I'm now officially not going to be a member of the knocked-up college students club. Let's just rejoice in this for a moment. Cuz honestly, how bad would it be if I reproduced. Yeah. I don't even want to think about that. All that matters is that I'm not preggers!!! Woot!!!

...alright. Moment over.

The Renn poetry class wasn't working out for me so I'm in the process of dropping it. When it comes down to it, I don't need the credits and I was basically taking it to kill time and to say that I took a class with Sandona. Whatever. I have nothing to prove. I really need to focus on my Latin and other classes... And I want to be able to enjoy myself and not be stressed 24/7 like I was last semester. I mean, I'm still gonna stress myself out regardless but at least it will be self-contrived. For once.

I had a Creative Writing workshop last night... maybe I shouldn't have tried to quit smoking right before that class. Apparently they liked my offering but I don't know if they we're just being nice or what....because usually, even if the piece is exceptionally well-written, we tear it apart. But no, not with mine. This one girl, AJC, made a comment that it sounded...when she was reading it on her own...like it was written in my own voice-- not the "Lilith reading aloud in front of 15 people she doesn't know that well" voice. I don't quite know how to take that....or anything presented to me in workshop. I mean, this one is so different from the master class over the summer. Here, we've eliminated the strive for publication and are just focusing on the craft. It's just a totally different dynamic I guess. I know I need to work on my word choice-- I have an inclination to use the "five dollar words" way too much and it kind of muddles what I'm really trying to say. I know I need to work on showing not telling. I know I need to have more focus in my pieces....and basically just tighten everything overall.

I told Mike (Maryland Mike) that I want to have a talk with him. I really don't want there to be any animosity between us. It's not right. I know I messed that one up irreparably but he's a really decent person to hang out with and I think I'd like to salvage something for it...if that's at all possible. I don't know. Maybe because of Rosh Hashana I'm in a repenting mood...I don't know. But it's time for a change.

.meh.

So I'm home for Rosh Hashana right now. Suprisingly enough, I haven't tried to or thought about cutting yet. And it's been more than 24 hours! I think, no lie, this is a new record.

Except I feel really fat and bloated and I have to see my extended family tomorow evening...which always just adds a whole new big ball of stressors into the mix. I think I'm starting to come to terms with the fact that I am most likley never going to have the goddesses back. I am not ok with that, but frankly, it is what it is. Except, with that, I know I am going to have to deal with eternal repulsion of my body. Even now, looking in the mirror on my wall, the only thing I like is my eyes. I used to like my collorbones and neck, but now that I can't see the veins and the musculature isnt as perfect as it used to be...nothing but my eyes.

I am just a big ball of disgustingness. I honistly wouldnt be suprised right now if Rob is sleeping with someone else....because I am just that gross.

malcontent on the deathbead

To all who I have lost over the past six months:

I do not hate you. I could never hate you. I resent you, yes...but never hate. I resent you for leaving me here alone. I resent you for recognizing the way out and following it. I resent you for leaving me here to pick up the pieces. And as much as you want me to come join you, I cannot. I am not done here. I still have too much to do.

Forever yours-
Lilith

time to be real

Do you want to hear something funny? Well, here goes. I fully recognize my situation...the situation that I have created for myself...but I still continue to do what I do.

In the two weeks that I've been back at school, I have only been sober one night. I haven't had a fun night of drinking since I've been here, but that's yet to stop me. I keep telling myself, if I only get plastered one more night, then maybe I'll have fun. The law of averages, you know? In my mind, at least one of these nights has to end up in fun, not me rushing off to the stairwell to cut myself or passing out on my bed.

Yesterday I dropped acid for the first time too. It was beautiful. You know how Kurt Vonnegut says (or said now, seeing as he's quite dead but probably not rotted beyond recognition...yet) "everything was beautiful and nothing hurt"? That is exactly how I felt. I was happy and giggily and funny...and for the four or five hour peak, I almost liked who I am. Almost. And coming down wasn't that bad either. I felt reallyreallyreally smart. And extremely sensory. I don't know if that's the right word...sensory...but every single sense was epically magnified. And, probably the most pathetic thing of all, is that the acid made me feel skinny.

I also determined...either yesterday or the day before...that I don't really like Rob. I'm only really with him till I can find someone better. It's mean, I know, but it's true. I have no emotional attachment to him. Which is, when I think about it, really weird because it doesn't take much for me to become emotionally attached. I basically become attached to anyone who shows me attention.

I know that I want to marry Michael. Florida Michael. Army Michael. The Michael who has never doubted me nor used me nor judged me. I think Michael and I would be good together. He's stable, I mean... sure, he's a bit reckless. But not like me reckless...good reckless. I think you have to be a little bit to serve in the Army then work as a firefighter. He calls me beautiful...and I am such a sucker for that. I really love Michael, on a multifaceted level. His intelligence, his body, his eyes. The way we can talk for hours about absolutely nothing. How he'll text message me randomly during the day with the most cutesy things. The way he wont give up on me.

I know I push people away. I should probably stop that. I should probably stop being such a bitch too. I mean...ok...here's the deal...I want to change.

I'm just too scared.

fuckedy fuck fuck

Why my day was shit...

- I think I'm getting mono again. I'm extremly lethargic, I have migranes like no other and it hurts to move. Like actually hurts. Not to mention that i CANT BREATHE!!!!!!!1

- Wasteland was supposed to put up my piece....but they didnt. Jerks.

-Drunkemailed my prof from last semester. Whoops.

-Left my Renn poetry class today to throw up.

-Have to go home next friday for rosh hashana.








I hate my life.

non debeo errare

Let me start with how much I love my Latin class. Seriously, I do. There's this guy in it, Bern, who is by far the most arrogant POS I have ever met in my entire life, but on him, it is completely endearing. Anyways, last night I decided I was going to quit smoking cold turkey. Sounds like a good idea in theory, right? Wrong. I flushed the remainder of my pack immediately after and was cigaretteless so I went to bed. I wake up this morning with the worst craving ever but decided to tough it out. I do fairly well, until I sit down in Latin and my professor walks by REEKING of tobacco smoke. On came the biggest nic-fit ever.... I'm talking the whole nine yards...headache, restlessness...
I don't know how I made it through that class, but the second it was over, I ran outside and started looking frantically for a cigarette... and Bern came up behind me with one. Sigh. I love cigarettes.

Mei amoris Latinus.

weapon of change

I'm working on this piece right now for my creative writing workshop. I don't know what happened, but I just woke up this morning feeling ready to write... more so than I have felt in quite some time. I think maybe it was just the drama of this week that added water to my creative well. Anyways, the assignment is to create a piece focusing on an incident that the character avoids remembering or cannot clearly remember, working on making the scene as immediate as possible, not a memory or a flashback, but a depiction of actual moments shared by the characters. I don't know how to end it... but as of now, I think I have something semi-decent. Some parts are a bit loquacious, but I'm not too concerned. I think that should iron itself out as I workshop it.

Whatever. Here it is:

"Pathetic, no?"

She walks outside for a cigarette. It is just after four in the morning but time is irrelevant, as she has now been awake for the past three days. She is exhausted, though more emotionally than physically. And she hurts all over.

The cigarette reaches her lips, disturbing the delicate dichotomy in her mouth. It is composed purely of vomit’s bitter taste caused by entirely too much alcohol on an empty stomach and 2Cute Cherry lip gloss—incessantly applied to her cracked lips in a vain attempt to appear more attractive. The contrast between the juvenility of the lip gloss’ sweet, flirtatious shimmer and the nonsensical view of her, just minutes prior, being anything but innocent is rather striking. But it pales next to the disconcerting fact that she actually still cares enough to make an effort.

With a quick snap of her lighter, the tip of the cigarette begins to glow. She inhales the deadly salvation and at once feels somewhat content.

“What the fuck did I do?”

She tries to recount the past seventy-two hours, but it is all an incoherent mess (much like her life). She is so dissociated that even if she was cognizant of her actions, she finds herself unable to remember them as such. Her wrecked form folds onto the steps, blending in with the cold grey granite. Her skin is paled almost beyond recognition and shaking from the cold. It really is no great surprise that even on this sub-zero midwinter evening (or is it morning now?) the steps feel uncomfortably warm. She is tragically unique—the epitome of late teenage imperfection, which is inherently ordinary.

From her designer jeans, perfectly destroyed in sweatshops by workers paid next to nothing, she takes out her cigarettes and lights another.

It was never good. It was never fine. She was never happy, but neither was he. Two broken. Too broken. Two broken spines on a winding road, out past Hell. Her cigarette ashes fall to her arm, leaving a white cone of broken flakes on the unclothed and faintly scarred skin. The ash is still smothering, but she is so numb that whatever discomfort it is causing, it is completely inconsequential. She feels no pain.

She decides to be over what happened. Things happen. Mistakes are made. We are all young and reckless…and too goddamned stupid to recognize the difference. Whatever happened, it does not matter. But no, it really does matter because for her to now say that it didn’t would imply that something did matter to begin with. And no, she wouldn’t admit that now. Because everything matters.

“How did things get so bad?”

Saturday night, everything seemed fine. She thought he was somewhat impertinent—and coming from an intelligentsia fiend is a pretty decent compliment and just made him all that more attractive in her eyes. And his EYES…just his eyes…until they’ve gone and done dimmed out….

The way he played the guy she wanted him to be. He didn’t try to jump into bed with her right away. She thought he actually cared. No, cared is once again the wrong word because he did not. It was all a farce. She knows not why, but that is once again insignificant. All that matters is that she let it happen again. She fell for him and then screwed it up, as per her norm.

“What is so wrong with me? Why am I so broken?”

A third cigarette is lit, the smoke tendrils spiraling delicately towards her eyes. Vacant, they were, almost dead, her eyes still maintained the inherent ability to produce tears. And that they did, the sharp droplets dance down and caress her prominent cheekbones and are instantly dried by the constant smoke spewing from her lungs. She thinks about the scores of spiteful words thrust upon her.

“Yeah. It really is all my fault. Damn.”

She remembers a table and two refrigerators filled with Natty Ice, cheap rum and Mike’s Hard…the libations of choice for those on a budget and trying to get inebriated beyond recognition. She remembers begging for another shot to be poured in her glass and barely tasting the alcohol. The empty cans crushed and lined up next to the overflowing trash bins. Screaming along to the likes of Sugarcult’s “Pretty Girl” and having a major musical meltdown when the lyrics started speaking to her…”And that’s what you get for falling again. You can never get him out of your head. It’s the way that he makes you feel. It’s the way that he kisses you. It’s the way that he makes you fall in love.”

She remembers going out for a cigarette with someone other than the guy she was seeing and coming back an hour later, sans bra and looking extremely disheveled. She remembers meeting yet another guy in the hallway on her way back from emptying her stomach contents onto the floor of the common restroom. And how the sweat pooled off his sinuous frame, almost steaming as it snaked down towards the filthy beer stained carpet.

“Oh my God. Please tell me I didn’t…”

She remembers how she stared at the ceiling, consciously attempting to advert every fiber of her being away from the moment. She remembers waiting for it just to be over and regretting everything the second it happened. She hates the way she constantly does it…the girl thing…and instantly jumps into bed with anyone who will have her. As she pulls out another cigarette, she realizes the one truth in her pathetic life…

"I am the one your mother warned you about..."

shapeless

So let's see what's gone down since Tuesday...

Mike and I are no longer a Mike and I. Which, when I think about it, is a really weird thing to say because he and I were never together. It was a mutually parasitic bond-- he wanted to get laid and I wanted to feel wanted. Such is life.

Ashley, my roommate, is seeing his best friend Steve now. Which, no lie, is slightly awkward. Mike and I made a really good attempt at doing the friend thing, sans making out or anything, but it didn't work out so well. Actually...I pretty seriously fucked it over. The thing is that I cannot stand is how Mike got to me. He understood every one of my neuroses and instead of me just being able to deal with them and the fact that he knew...so I started backing away. Doing everything in my power to make sure he'd end up hating me. Which, go me, he does now.

I got disgustingly drunk and ended up going home with this guy. But, unbeknown to me, Mike saw me making out with him. So now, not only am I the drunk girl with an attitude, but I'm a whore too.

And...maybe I am. Maybe I am pathetic with self-worth issues and that pushes me to do anything for attention. Maybe I make out with whoever will have me, just because I am so desperate for the validation. I don't know. I don't really want to think about it.

If I really am that disgusting...I can't even blame Mike for hating me. Hell. If I really am that disgusting...I have a major hangup over anyone even tolerating me.

But such is life.

gag

Mike and I had a really big talk last night and he conceded that what he did was very messed up and so I guess now we're good. Yay.

I basically ADORE my creative writing workshop. The professor, Dr. Gottfried, is one of the most chill people I've seen in a while. She seems to be disgustingly intelligent but not elitist about it. I think I'm really going to get a lot out of being in a workshop where the focus isn't on readying pieces for publication, but instead creating something worthwhile. I mean, not that I didn't love my summer workshops because they were fantastic for me...really pushing me towards writing for an audience rather than myself...but that's so stressful. I think at this point, I want to concentrate on the craft as opposed to the end result.

It kind of sucks though because this girl who I had drama with last semester is in the class and she already made some pretty bitchy comments towards some of my opinions on one of the pieces we read yesterday. We were analyzing "Why Don't You Dance?" by Raymond Carver and I said something along the lines of the female character acting like a desperate teenager craving attention and the girl said she was basically acting exactly like me. I mean, come on...that's messed up. She doesn't know me that well and regardless, you shouldn't say things like that in class. It's one thing to say that you disagree with my take of the piece, but to make a personal attack....uncool.

I need to quit smoking...seriously. I think once I'm poor again I'll quit but it really does help keep me not as stressed. Which, let's be honest, is really important.

BREAK MEEEEE DOOWNNNNNNNNN

Arugh. I'm here. I'm over it already though. Why you may ask...well. Here goes:

1. Mike is a grade-A asshole right now. He comes over last night with his friend to drink with me and my roommate then tries to make out with her in the hallway while I'm right there. I don't really have any right to be pissed off cuz we're not dating or anything. But come on! Seriously...who does that? Especially when you say you missed me so much and couldn't wait to spend time with me...and then not even five minutes later, try to climb into bed with me.

2. It's hot and yucky out. I don't like feeling gross after just walking to Starbucks and back. Not good times.

3. I'm hungover and haven't slept in two days cuz I've been either at Mike's place or he's been crashing with me. LAME.

4. Latin is going to kick my ass. I only had one class of it, but I can tell already cuz of French, I'm going to have a lot of issues with the syntax. Damn it.

5. I'm out of cigarettes and can't smoke in my dorm.

Aside from that though, everything is fine and dandy.

paralyzer

Boo.... very pissed off right now. I got booted off the work-study queue because apparantly so many freshman are on the program, the financial aid office couldn't guarantee everybody jobs. So now cuz the financial aid office thinks I don't present a significant need...which sucks. But whatever. I guess I can just bartend or somthing. It's not like I sleep anyways and the tips are pretty sweet.

I'm leaving Jersey in about an hour. Thank God. I've been over it here since...oh...about an hour after I got back. And now I get to chill with Mike and Meg and Ash and TIM(!!!) and Luke and Anora and Pryia and William and everyone else I LOVE. Seriously...without my friends...I don't know where I'd be. Probably lying in a ditch somewhere.

...but never to the melody

I broke up with Adam last night. I thought after I did it, I'd feel something... releif, sadness, freedom, anything. But I don't. If anything, I think that just proves to me that I needed to end it.

I've never been the best at keeping relationships. I don't know what it is. Maybe I'm selfish and give up the second I get scared or the instant it becomes work. But I don't think a relationship should be work. I should want to hang out with them. I should be excited to hear from them. And our conversations should be more than "I love you" "I miss you" over and over and over until I feel nausous from the pathetic, mindless innocence of it all.

I just...I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I love Adam. He's a really fantastic guy and he's fun to be around. But I'm not in lovewith him. There's a difference. And I don't think it's fair to him if I was to stay in a relationship where he loved me a lot more than I did him. He and I are also at very different places in our lives. He still has his senior year of high school to get through. I want him to be able to go out and do stupid high school things without having to worry about being tied down. I don't want to be an obligation for him. And conversly, I want to be able to go out and have fun in college. I don't want to have something stopping me from finding myself...especially when I'm just now sort of getting the hang of it.

But mostly...I don't think I was happy with Adam. Like really happy. And if I'm not happy...then what's the point? I know that sounds so horrible but I have to take care of myself and make sure I"m ok and if not being with a really great guy is the price...then I guess I'm just going to have to pay it.


(iamareallybadteencliche)

have you ever...

So a week from now, I'm going to be sitting in my Latin class. Freaking surreal.

Yesterday was actually really fun. I thought it was going to be a disaster, being subjected to an entire day of family bonding and all. But we ended up going to the track to watch the horses...which I LOVE. And I'm a monster when it comes to betting on the races. I guess that comes from being obsessed with all things equine for a solid decade of my life. The track is so surreal. You have such an eclectic group of people; burnt out stablehands, white-trash families looking for a cheep way to spend a Sunday afternoon, fat Italian men dressed in their best suits with cigars hanging out the side of their mouth...all grasping their bets with a glimmer of hope in their eyes. Hope that their horse will push ahead and get their overworked, juvinile nose across the wire first and give them a win. Me. I just like the horses. I go down to the paddock between races to see the horses up close. Sometimes I'll look them in the eye. When I do that, and if the horse stops for a second, I know that they're my guy. I don't know. They're probably not even cognisant of me, but it's what I've always done.

And last night, I finally cut my ties to Alex. I told him that it's not fair to keep telling me about all of these other girls he's seeing but how he's never happy with them. It makes me feel like crap when he does that because I know that he thinks of me as just another girl for him to mess around with but then comes to me with all of his issues. It's like I'm playing the part of girlfriend without any of the job security. Not to mention he shattered my heart...or what was left of it...numerous times. I'm done with that. I think I've finally realized I need to cut the jackassary out of my life. So. Alex is gone. (lets see how long this lasts...)

It's raining. I love the rain. It's supposed to rain all week, which I really don't mind. Except that I was going to go down the shore tomorrow with Anora to tan before we go back to school. Oh well. I guess I'm just going to have to deal with being freakishly pale. Boo.

Mike is...amazing. We talked for like three hours this morning. I love how I can just be totally random and he doesn't care at all.

I still don't know what I'm going to do about Adam. I mean, I know I SHOULD break up with him. But he has a lot going on otherwise, with his family. Serious stuff. He's kind of in a precarious place right now and I don't want to do anything that would put him over the edge. If anything, I think he actually really loves me. And I don't want to be the one to hurt him like that.

Sigh.

keeps you back....

I cannot believe it is my last Friday at home for the summer. Damn. Like....really....damn. I cannot wait to get out of here.

I think I might have to break up with Adam though. He's being clingy and I am definatly falling for new Mike. Oh well. I'm hideous at relationships anyways. Maybe I'll just cheat on Adam, just to see if it's worth breaking up with him or not. I don't know. I just need to do somthing to make him stop liking me as much. I think I'd feel bad breaking up with him, he's so innocent and nice. But it's just that, the niceness, that makes me want to make him hurt.

Wow. I am such a bad person.

perfect kisses lead to one night stands...

Before anyone says anything...its a song lyric. I did not kiss anyone or in any way, shape or form cheat on Adam. That being said, everyone should go listen to The Apathy Eulogy right now.

Last night I had a really intense discussion. Actually, two. One with Adam and one with Mike (different Mike, this one lives in Maryland...like half hour from school).

With Adam, he and I started getting into Elizabeth Wurtzel-- wrote Prozac Nation, Bitch & More, Now, Again--and how she's my generation's Sylvia Plath & Anne Sexton. That thought kind of bums me out actually... I hate comparing great writers to each other. It just seems to trivial. Wurtzel is brilliant though. If I was to writing confessional memoir, that's how I would write it. I also really appreciate her use of voice. Wurtzel is self-depricating but at the same time so beautifuly tragic.

But then Adam made the mistake of comparing me to Wurtzel and started making suggestions on my writing. Like topical suggestions, not just editorial. I cannot stand that. I mean, he is not my editor. He is not even a WRITER in my eyes. He wants to be some mass-produced drugstore novelist a la Stephen King. I'm sorry but I really don't consider that talent. I love Adam to death, but it is not his place to compare me to great writers then try to completly alter my pieces.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just bad at this whole relationship thing. Adam tries, he really does. And I think I'm happy with him...but at the same time, it really kills me that he hadn't even heard of Waiting for Godot or know what existential meant. I don't know. Whatever. I really do love him though. Like the kind of love that makes my heart go all flippy even when he just texts me. Haha. I am such a dork.

Thank goodness Mike called me right after though. I am completly aware that I get elitist sometimes and he's not afraid to call me out on it. Actually, he didn't even call me out on it, no. He BITCHED me out. Which, let's be honist, I needed. But then, we started analyzing Les Jeux sont faits by Sartre. Now, is it just me or would you be a little confused about this? I mean, yeah...I should hope that everyone has read or at least knows of Sartre but to call me a pompus snob then inquire about my views on the classic paradoxical moral victory that are very much present in his work seems a bit...off to me.

And now I just feel so drained. But I love that feeling, you know? It's almost like here at home I'm in this vapid space where no creative or intelligent minds dare wander.

And now...I feel like a really bad person. Because, albet all of the crap my family has put and still puts me through, they're not stupid. It's just that I feel so trapped here. When I'm home, I am a completly different person and it really sucks because I want everyone up here to see that I'm not the little narcisistc bitch they became accoustomed to dealing with.

Whatever.

scream

I couldnt sleep last night, probably because of the adrenelin shot. Not a big deal, except in my lack-of-sleep induced state (which I'm not all too unfamilliar with...see finals week or midterm week or any other time when I just have too much to do to bother sleeping), I screamed at Adam over the phone over how much I miss him and of all of the things...who loves each other more and then started to cry when he told me to be rational and it ended in him being the amazing boyfriend he is and telling me to go get some rest and he'd call me in the morning. Except now I feel like a complete ass which is perfect because I'm sure thats what he thinks of me. A fucking complete ass.

Adam's too good for me. He's too nice and lets me win when we fight and calls me beautiful. What the hell is wrong with me that I cannot even be happy with the perfect guy that I have right in front of me.

I hate being this messed up. Because I really do love him...to the Heavens and back again.

ugh

I hate that as soon as the nicest day of the summer happens I get a killer migrane that's bad enough for me to actually go see the doctor, resulting in me getting an adrenaline shot and being put on a portable IV full of happy meds and nutriants cuz not only do I have a migrane, but they realized that I probably got it cuz I forgot to eat for the past five days. Whoops. And its not like I was consciencely not eating...the thought to eat just never occoured to me. Once again, whoops. Someone should remind me to do that once and a while.

sixteen days!

Why Lilith is disugstingly happy to go back to Hood in less than three weeks:
-I really miss everyone and I feel like such a bad friend for not going down to visit anyone over the summer, even when I was in DC for work. We're all going to be crazy busy at school, but having us all in the same place basically ensures we'll at least see each other in passing.

-Back to school = sales! I like shopping and it makes me feel much less materialistic if I say everything I'm buying is nessasary for school. New shoes are the most important...they tend to dislike you showing up to lecture barefoot.

-Everything is so tense with my parents, I feel unhealthly stressed around them. Their mere presence makes me want to scream. The sooner I'm out of the state, I'll be able to breathe again.

-I can declare my major as soon as I get down there cuz I finally have enough credits. As soon as I figure out what that major is going to be, I'll let you know.

-Coffee walks with Timothy. They're like therapy but with a latte, someone I can actually stand (and actually love to death) and all the cigarettes we want.

-School is like the epicenter for the drama universe. As much as we say we cannot stand the constant superficial drama, we thrive off of it.

-Soccer House's first-weekend-back party. It always starts out classy, with cockstail dresses and ties. But give it an hour and we'll be on the table with the boys doing kegstands out back. Blackout, makeout, put out or GET OUT!

-Finally only being half-hour from DC. It really sucks how dependant I am on being that close for work and such. Oh well.

-Being able to gloat to this bitch from my AmLit class last semester that I'm getting published before her. She thought it'd be cute to tear my work apart and call me opportunistic and try to discredit every point I made cuz she doesn't see me as a real writer (whatever that's supposed to mean). Well, fuck you skank, I'm in.

-Seeing my professors. Yeah. I'm a dork. But, they have their job for a reason and if I plan to be doing what they do, I might as well let some of their brillance rub off on me. And, for the most part, they're pretty chill.

-Running with Dani, Will and Blake. It's great. We don't speak to each other at all, but we get this kind of unspoken comraderie going after the first couple runs and it makes killing five miles every morning less of an obligation.

...except now I need to pack. Boo.

on the ground

I'm back from the Hamptons. It was great. I love being by the water...I'm such a beach bum (in every sence of the word).

I don't know how much longer I can take being at home anymore though. My parents found out about Adam and...let's just say they're less than pleased that I'm seeing him. And it's not like he's that bad of a person. He's my dad's best-friend's son and we've known each other since we were born. So he's had a few issues over the past six months or so with drugs, but hey I'm not one to judge. Especially on that. And yes, he is a little bit younger than me...but once again, who cares? We work so well together, it doesn't matter to me. I love Adam to the point where I don't care what anyone says about us.

I love Adam and he loves me. If there's one thing that I still have faith in, it's the power of love. Maybe I'm naive. Maybe I'm just being a silly little girl and haven't lived enough to know what love is. Maybe I'm too willing to say "I love you" to anyone who gives me any positive attention. But I don't care. There is just somthing about Adam that makes me feel like one day I am going to be ok. He gives me somthing to live for, somthing that makes me so unbelievably serene and happy that I never want it to go away. Which it wont, because Adam swore to me that he'd never leave. It's just going to be me and him...forever. And that's exactly how I want it to be.

Adam is the most addicting drug in the world. He's ok with me being extremly insecure. He loves the real me...the Lilith that only comes out usually when I'm alone. I love him so much it hurts. Adam is the first person ever that makes me feel like I belong somewhere. He has my heart, my whole heart, forever. And I will always love him. I want to be with him forever. I feel at peace with him. If that's not a sign that we should be together, than I don't know what is.

And so what about going back to school. We are going to make this work because when you love someone like this, you do whatever is nessasary and more, just to make sure we're together forever.