Wednesday I wonder if I'm capable anymore of love or infatuation that makes me write. I'm afraid not. I'm afraid it's all been wasted on people who don't appreciate it. Except for R. He and I would e-mail each other, write notes, and talk on the phone like you wouldn't believe. I had a 3 inch binder full of his e-mails, every single one full of stuff girls swoon over. And that wasn't even all of the e-mails. That boy was wonderful. Except that he was a controlling, fucked in the head asshole. He always called me his lily. Blech. Stop it.

So I wonder if it's come down to wishing someone's name would be on my AIM buddy list every time I come online.

And how sad is that? Things like instant messaging being factored into the universe of the heart. It doesn't belong there. Phone calls belong there. There should be handwritten letters rather than e-mail; there should be long lasting hugs and days spent in bed rather than long-distance fucking and wondering how cheap plane tickets are at the moment. It's all rather depressing.

Also depressing is the fact that I don't think like I used to. My thoughts are different, and they're rather plain. I don't know how to capture images of myself in words anymore.

I haven't written in my paper journal in days. It makes me feel like I'm withering away, or drying up. All that will be left is some boring person that I don't want to be. Sometimes I panic, wondering how to hold onto myself, or wondering how to change for the better while remaining myself. What if being "okay" means being "normal" a.k.a. "boring"? What if I'm just a big fake? What if no one likes me anymore? What if I die?

In one of my smarter moments tonight, I looked at the pictures on my Flickr page that involve SAM. I wanted to make sure the captions were up to date, but I ended up staring at his back. I can think about him all I want and it doesn't bother me, but once I imagine him being here with me, touching or kissing me, I'm as good as gone. It seems like it's been a lot longer than 2 months. RA has orders not to let me do that anymore.

I think tomorrow I'll just lie in bed and listen to Tori Amos. Because I'm just that deep.

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