“Deep down I believe my year was a special year: it produced me.”

― Ned Vizzini

It’s a beautiful day. It’s my birthday. Today marks the end of my teen years and the beginning of my 20s.

Last night, I waited up till 12 a.m. I thought of all the birthdays that came before this one. One stood out more than the rest. I believe it was my 10th birthday. The most disappointing birthday of all.

I waited. I didn’t want to blow the candles out on my princess cake and I didn’t want to cut the cake. I waited for my dad to show, he had promised he would. He didn’t. My grandmother held me while I cried on my birthday, my day.

I still celebrate my birthday despite it usually being a source of disappointment. Superman had to work today, on my birthday. The last time we had scheduled to hangout, he forgot. We’re supposed to spend some time together on Friday but I highly doubt we will. He claims he’s been busy with work and burying his demons. I get it. But what he’s showing me is that I am of zero importance to him. Our friendship has no value. He promised, as my dad had, that he would be here for me on my birthday.

I have zero plans today. I’m tired of trying to make my birthday a day of celebration. Today, to avoid any further disappointments, I’m staying in the house, in bed. I spent the last of my money on a plate a food, a treat to myself. Yesterday, I had an interview and was offered a job so soon I will be a working woman again. My mind occasionally stray to Batman. How could it not? I still. . . .  care about him. I’m not sure those feelings will ever go away. But. . . endings lead to beginnings. I will soon be starting a new job and attending a new school. I’m fortunate to see my 20th birthday. So, if I had a nice cold beer like I’ve been craving lately, then I would make a toast to new beginnings.



“Silence is a source of great strength.”

― Lao Tzu

I’ve made several drafts in the past few days but didn’t publish any of them. I felt weak and vulnerable and usually this is the place where I allow myself to feel that way. But an inner voice, that I heeded, said “No, not this time. Come back when you’re stronger.” And I have, I did. I no longer feel like I’m falling apart and I miss Batman but the pain is a dull ache now.

I quit my job about a week ago. I’m looking for a new one. I’m more than likely going to transfer to another college for the Fall semester.

This may sound terrible but. . . . I think I’m going to keep my heart closed for a while. I had never been in love before and this.  . . . blew me, left me reeling. I feel protective now, like I need to protect myself.

Funny, I had so many “nightmares” about burglars that when I’m left home alone I’m extra vigilant. But I had never once suspected that Batman would burglarize my heart and leave me feeling defenseless and scared. Now. . . while I patch up my heart, I’m waiting vigilant for the next burglar to attempt to break into my heart. I’m not saying I’m not open to love but when I happen upon “the one”, he’ll understand why I have so many walls up.

Superman and I are still friends. I’m not sure for how long. I really have so many doubts about this friendship that it’s not even funny.  I think my thing is that in the lives of those that profess to care about me, I need to feel like a priority. My mom had never made me feel like a priority and your relationship with your mother is supposed to be the most fundamental relationship in your life. I don’t feel like a priority in Superman’s life. In the lives of several “friends”, I don’t feel like a priority. Which often leaves me feeling alone because when I’m at my lowest, I don’t turn to them. I feel that despite what they claim, they don’t give a damn about me. I truly feel like Superman couldn’t care less about me.

My birthday is Wednesday. I’ve been disappointed so many times on my birthday that it’s a wonder that I even bother celebrating it. I don’t know what I’m hoping to happen each year. Superman may be the one to disappoint me this year on my birthday. We’ll see.



“There is a certain strength in being alone.”

― Heather Duffy Stone

I both love and hate being alone. I feel like. . .  I’ve reached this crucial point in getting over Batman. In the past, every time I approached that precipice of rediscovering life without him, I’d be drawn right back to him. Now. . . I’m reliving every memory, every moment we spent together and it’s painful but it’s also healing. It’s almost as if I’m somehow purging him from me by reveling in memories of him. I’m embracing the pain. Before, I had tried to ignore it, bury it, or minimize it. I’m embracing it now.

I feel like I’ve lost quite a few friends of late. And I have. People rarely stay in touch after graduating high school. I had a small circle to begin with but having it reduced to none. .. . it makes me feel isolated.

Superman. . . . is moving on, whatever that means. It’s the only way I can describe it. I feel like our “friendship” is slipping away. I’m okay with that. I really don’t feel like I have any role in his life. I wish him the best of luck with. . . Harley. He seems to be going through women at an alarming rate. Right now, I think he’s infatuated, though he claims he’s falling for her. I don’t see that ending well but I’ll keep my opinion to myself and attempt to be supportive. His. . . struggles with his emotions make me slightly relieved to be newly single. I know all too well the confusion and excitement of a budding romance. It gets old fast. I’m glad to be off that roller-coaster.

Being alone gives me plenty of time to think and analyze myself and my emotions. I sort of missed that. Right now, my mind is slightly calm. I enjoy this moment, this time, this space I’m in. That elusive peace has descended and my thinking is clear. It won’t last long. My emotions are a roller-coaster without the added complication of a relationship.


New Beginnings

“You raze the old to raise the new.”

― Justin Chen

I moved out of my dorm yesterday. Today, I will return my textbooks and give my key to my dorm to my RA. I also had my counseling appointment yesterday morning. I didn’t see the same counselor I saw two weeks ago. I liked her better. I’ll call the one I’m seeing now Mrs. P. She. . . I don’t know. I’m really not looking forward to my next appointment with her. I don’t know what it is about her but. . . I don’t think I like Mrs. P. It’s hard to explain. I can’t say what it is about her exactly that’s off-putting but it’s something. Maybe she tries too hard to make me feel “comfortable” or “safe”. Or maybe she makes me feel. . . pressured to talk. With the last counselor, talking came easily once I got started. With Mrs. P, I’m tempted to sit in silence for the entire 55 minutes just to see what she’ll do. She makes it. . . awkward. Talking to Mrs. P feels forced. I may not continue seeing her. But school is officially over for me and I just might transfer to a different college next semester. They have a better program for my major, prettier campus, and they offer gymnastics. Gymnastics was the icing on the cake. So tempted to transfer. I might. I have some time to reach a decision.



“Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.”

― J.K. Rowling

There are so many things wrong with me that I wouldn’t know where to begin to start listing them all. I am without words. I am so angry and sad. It’s like all the damn pent up disappointments over the years are boiling to the surface. I am angry at every person that has ever hurt me and angry at myself for not dealing with it, allowing it to fester inside me. When I think of my mother right now, I am filled with a red hot rage. How fucking dare she not love me, not want me, and leave me seeking love and acceptance from someone else. I am hurting! There’s such a pain in my chest that it’s a wonder my heart still beats. All the hurt, all the anger, all the disappointments, all the rejections, just coming to the forefront of my mind. It leaves me wanting to tear my hair out and scream till my throat is raw and bleeding. Only then. . . . can I let my pain out, give voice to it. All of this. . . . spiraled from thoughts of Batman. My old friend said I started a downward spiral the minute I told Batman I loved him and he rejected my love. Why would I not? To be honest, it was like being kicked in the teeth. How many times did I come to my mother, heart in my hands, begging for her love? For scraps? Batman made me feel like that. Like I was a dog begging for the scraps that he called affection that he tossed my way. And even still, like a child that doesn’t learn it’s lesson, I still love him. How fucked up am I? I guess I can just dump Batman in the pile of people who claimed to have loved me but still left me. Do you know what it feels like to be unwanted by the one woman who gave you life? To see her give love and affection to all of her other children, but still deny it to you? It feels like having your heart ripped out, again and again. Maybe one day the pain will get so dull that I won’t feel it anymore. Until then, it’s a constant companion, a constant reminder that I am unloved and unwanted.



“You don’t have to have anything in common with people you’ve known since you were five. With old friends, you’ve got your whole life in common.”
―Lyle Lovett

I reached out to an old friend yesterday. I want to try and repair our friendship. I made (very false) assumptions and pushed him away. He doesn’t bear any hard feelings but. . . . I get the sense that our friendship will never be the same. He’d been through an ordeal that would break weaker men. He’s changed. I’ve changed and I’m not sure if for the best or worse. People change and sometimes discover that they no longer fit together like they used to. It’s only been a day but my friend and I have to discover if we still “fit” like we used to.

I took my last final a few hours ago. It was a math final and I, brilliantly, showed up without a calculator. I’ll be lucky if I get a D. I’m surprisingly not as upset about that as I should be. My first year of college is over. All of that damn stress is gone! I’m probably going to have to find a new job in my hometown. I don’t think I’ll be able to afford the price of commuting. Most of my check would go to gas.

I’ve been really scatterbrained today. I don’t know why. It’s like my body is moving faster than my mind, like there’s a lag time. Oh well. My first year of college is over.