butchering the english language since 1985
he doesn't answer

tonight i've been thinking about us, the us that is all of us. i know that we all like, and in some cases i would venture to use the word love, each other very much. how can we not? we've gone through so much together, grown so much, seen each other through so much, that we are naturally emotionally bound. but i think we have come to a point where we may be a little bit tired of each other and we may feel a little bit stuck. we know we've got it good around these parts but somehow it's not necessarily enough anymore. we need something new. sometimes, that means cutting ourselves off from home entirely, and when we come home, we are strangers to those whom we used to love. and i'm not sure what it means other times. maybe some of us can't decide between maintaining distance and continuing to tie more knots into the rope that holds us together so we end up stuck somewhere in the middle, not completely satisfied with either end. maybe some of us have mastered that balancing act, but others haven't.

are we too afraid of change? or are we right to question anything that isn't what we already have? i know that losing my current support system would probably cause me a lot of pain. there are so many people i want to keep in touch with until the day i die. i just can't tell if that is completely possible or completely unrealistic.

maybe things are just being thrown into sharp relief right now because i am about to leave and i'm not really sure how to cope with missing everyone, with shifting drastically to relying only on myself for a while in a completely unfamiliar living situation. but i am also questioning mindsets and attitudes i've noticed around me lately. some things that seem hollow. i don't know.

last five entries:
blisters and bruises - 03.18.08
dorsey - 03.13.07
finding peace - 02.02.07
unintentional clean slate - 09.11.06
natural born cyborg - 06.23.06

currently
01.03.06
1:23 am

quote
this memory of you holds more than a photograph. it's much more than a book of old pictures locked away without a name.