It will be okay, love.

I want to call you "sweetie." I want to hug you and tell you everything will be okay. I want to tell you that none of them matter because hey, I love you. I want to ask you what's wrong and kiss you and make all the bad go away. I want to say what I would have said if it were four months ago and you hadn't broken my heart.

I hope that's just a shadow of past feelings. I thought I was done, I really did. I thought I knew better than to ever go down that road again.

Bucket List

1. Go in a recording studio.
2. Visit Abbey Road.
3. Take a picture that reflects the world.
4. Make a movie.
5. Learn sign language.
6. Make a difference in someone's life.
7. Buy an old, used record.
8. Write a book.
9. Learn how to whistle.
10. Go to a show on Broadway.
11. Learn how to play poker.
12. Go crowd surfing.
14. Protest something.
15. Sing a solo for an audience.
16. See the Mona Lisa.
17. Visit New York City at Christmas time.
18. Go wake-boarding.
24. Order in a restaurant in a foreign language.
29. Have a creative couple Halloween costume.
35. Kiss someone at midnight on New Year's Eve.
36. Have someone win me a stuffed animal
37. Try to break a world record.
38. Donate blood.
40. Try vegetarianism.
42. Visit all fifty states.
43. Go to a drive-in movie theater.
61. Put a piece of gum on the gum wall in Seattle.
62. See the Alice in Wonderland statue in Central Park.
69. Go to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.
71. See the Northern Lights.

What if?

I would speculate a lot. Sometimes it was serious, sometimes it wasn't. I would get the funniest thoughts, random scenarios. "What if people didn't have any lips?"  And I would want to share them. Or I would worry."What if you get in a car accident?" I worried that everything that could possibly go wrong, would go wrong.

Your response whenever I voiced these thoughts--whether a ridiculous hypothetical situation or a legitimate concern--was always the same. "What if..?" You would throw it right back at me. As if there were so many infinite possibilities that could happen, why speculate? You didn't get it. Maybe I did worry too much about what might happen. Maybe I should have relaxed a little more. In your mind, why worry? What was the point of all these "what if's"? 

Well, buddy, if you don't worry about "what if's" at least some of the time then you're asking for disaster. I admit I sometimes worry more than I should, but at least I'm always prepared. At least I'm cautious and careful.

As if that weren't annoying enough, you were totally hypocritical about it. "What if we have a miscarriage?" (Ignore how naive I was to think we would actually get married and have kids someday). You worried about things all the time. You had your share of "what if's". Hypocrite. Like I said. 

And now, on Twitter you're all like "What if it changed everything? Blah blah blah." Well, honey, according to you I can't live my entire life by "what if's." I don't have enough time or energy or emotional stability to spend worrying about what you might have to say. Excuse me if I don't jump at the chance to talk to you. Excuse me for having a life, for being busy, for trying to forget about you so I can actually feel better. 

If you have something serious to tell me, just spit it out. Don't leave me guessing whether or not it's worth my time. 

Tell me, please. Tell me what it is, if it is something that will change my world. I have to know, now. 

I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care.

I wish I didn't care.

Part of me says, "Good Riddance." It's like you don't exist anymore. Not to me.

The other part of me is screaming.

Home

I think I want to go home. The problem? I'm not sure I know where home is anymore.

Is it my hometown? The place I lived for 18 years? I've been missing it lately. My beautiful mountains, my sky, my sunsets out by the volcanos. I miss my city lights, and the view from my kitchen window. I miss what I used to have there, but I think that's gone forever. I miss my friend(s). My parents are there I guess, in the house I grew up in. Quietly doing what they've always done. But in a house where we keep to ourselves and I have to go out to get any normal human interaction, am I home?

Is this my home? This tiny college dorm room in this college town where everyone is the same? Don't get me wrong, I like it here. It's just that sometimes I think about the people here...how they're all so perfect and happy and I'm not, and then I feel trapped and want to leave. I hate the tiny room and the tension and the shallow relationships and not being able to cook or watch a movie. And sometimes I feel so lonely here, I want to scream.

I feel pretty lost, I'm not going to lie. I guess I'll go work on the getting found part.

Love

I think love is when all the happiness someone brings you is worth all the pain that they cause you.

And hey, guess what. I don't love you anymore.

Because

Sometimes, it's nice to be reminded that this world is filled with billions of other people. And sometimes some of those people need your help