I don’t remember writing this. But I do remember the exact moment that this was written, my first late summer in NYC, my first taste of that magical month of September when you can finally breathe again. I didn’t really act on my thoughts right then, I’m still waiting for my writing to pay for that beach house, but I remember that girl so well. She isn’t all that far away really, still there, still me. She used to push herself to do things she found uncomfortable (move to a random city in a foreign country where she knew absolutely nobody for example, although that was easier than going out of the house and walking into a bar by herself sober). She used to wonder why she was so often alone, and then would refuse the advances of men all the time. She held on to nostalgia (still does), and dreamt far ahead, of days when there wouldn’t be a need to hustle anymore. She wasn’t innocent, and had seen things other would never see or experience already. She, me, would often sabotage everything for herself before it even began, or would pretend that certain things were more important than others (doing well at work vs being happy and free). I don’t regret anything, but stumbling on this folder full of 2005 journal entries, and especially this one, made me realize all the more why I need to finish what I started many, many years ago.
There is a big reason why my blog is all over the place. I started it in 2003 before I went off to Israel for what ended up being over a year and a huge moment of change in my life. Over the years it evolved into a place where I force myself to post writing that would otherwise stay locked up on my hard drive or my written journals forever. Of course, I want people to read what I write, to react, to talk to me about it, but at the same time I can’t force anyone to. I’m terrible at marketing and I couldn’t sell myself to save my soul, so I most likely won’t be ever buying a beach house with my writing. But sending some of my most personal writing, poems and stories out there into the big wide world is something that I have told myself I will do for decades. And I promise myself this year it will happen. With Spring Comes Hope was my first step into this lake, dabbling my toes, and with Of Hearts and Sea Glass will be a full on dive. In the meantime I will continue to share some of what I write with the world via my blog. It doesn’t have a niche or a certain topic, but it’s my home on the internet.
Here you go, the ramblings of a lonely 27 year old, ready to settle her roots in a new country, but not entirely sure where her roots are anymore. All content, apart from names that I have removed, has been exactly copied from when it was written in 2005.
Saturday September 4th 2005
Although still hot during the day, the evenings are cooling down. Now I can sleep with a cover again, instead of rolling around all night, sweating… Most days I feel like I haven’t slept in months. Most mornings I wake up before dawn, worrying about something or other at work. I think it’s time to get some sun as I am paler than I have been in years.
I feel so lonely. My life feels fulfilled on a few levels: my job, my own place… But I miss my friends, I miss flirting, drinking, dancing, dressing up, emotions, emotions, emotions. I want to share my bed with someone again. And I seriously need to erase the [ex boyfriend] demon for good. He needs to go. I need closure because he’s not going to come back. I don’t break my promises, but it’s difficult when the other person forgets so easily. It’s over [ex boyfriend]. I can’t give you my heart anymore, I’ve tried for too long now. You’ll never ever find someone like me, and whether you regret that or not doesn’t even matter anymore.
All those men in my heart, and he’s the only one who sticks. I can still remember his touch on my body, I want to forget and remember at the same time.
I want to lose control again – down a bottle of vodka, sleep with a random guy who keeps complimenting me, dance all night, feel free free free again. I’m young. It’s time to start living again. I feel like I haven’t been doing that since I left Israel. I’m setting my roots down again. I know the pain of ripping them out, but it’s worse when I just stumble along day by day, just surviving. It’s time to be alive again. See, do, hear, feel. No more walls again. Just me and my life. My friends will always be here, and now it’s time for them to come to me. And time to make new ones in this city. Time for real hugs again. Time to remember how things are for real.
[Close friend] will be here in a few weeks and I’m really looking forward to it. Having a friend here, sharing my little haven with someone else, partying and talking and walking and sharing and drinking and smoking and giggling and smiling and crying.
I have to put [ex best friend] behind me too. I’ve given so much in the past, and there have been so many times that it’s been thrown right back in my face. But I will never stop giving because that’s the way I am. Her spirit was just not free enough. Maybe I was just too wild but sorted at the same time. I can take on so much, I can deal with it all, and she obviously couldn’t. Tant pis, ce n’est pas si grave a la fin, n’est-ce pas? Life can be strange at the oddest times, you just have to get up and leave it behind. Some things just cannot be fixed however hard you try, as sad as it is.
I remember sitting on the wall next to the Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco in the background, smoking a cigarette, wind blowing, running up to hug the sailor statue, singing out of tune in the truck. I remember lying on my bed in Sassenage dreaming of Kurt. I remember tickling [friend] in l’Ile Verte, talking about everything and nothing. She never left, she just got older and maybe a little wiser. Yes, me. Remember going to school and running off to Champollion with [great friend] every break? Stalking men we had never spoken to before… Pine’s Friend, Pine, Bog… Nirvana, Hole, PJ, Candlebox (well that one song). 11 years ago. Who would have thought that at 27 I would be living in New York?
One day, when I finally get my act together I will tell the story to all. The one about the young and shy girl who overcame (maybe) her tragedy and found herself. I wish I would stop making excuses. I don’t need the house by the beach to live. My writing might just buy me that house one day though. Forget your fears and just go for it.
I don’t want to say goodbye to anyone or anything. Not even au revoir. Not anymore. Enough is enough.