35 days

I wish that when he told me that he was going to come home I could cry a little less, and believe him just a little bit more. He says he has peace about it. I wish I had that peace. I wish that every day of silence didn't amount to a day of me imagining worst case scenarios and constantly wondering what he was doing and where he was at. I wish my life didn't revolve around hoping for stupid Facebook notifications signifying a message from him or that he had commented on something. I wish that every morning when my cell phone alarm went off I didn't get my hopes up thinking it was him calling. I wish that every night before I fell asleep I didn't have to try so hard to imagine what it was like to have him sleeping beside me, trying to find a comfortable way to press my face against his back, listening to the way he breathed when he fell asleep. I wish I knew when I will see him again, when I will hear his voice and feel his heartbeat, and for once be able believe with absolute certainty that everything is going to be okay.

Woah

In 5 days, I will be with Jeremy again. I am kind of freaking out. I can't even pinpoint why I'm suddenly getting overwhelmingly nervous. I tend to over think every aspect of my existence, so it doesn't surprise me in the least that I am suddenly wigging. I am excited too. In my more lucid moments I remember how much fun it is to just be around Jeremy. Even if we are pushing a broken down car out of the middle in the road, or playing cards, or laying in the grass at Pike's Peak, or sitting on a bench having a cigarette, I love being near him. But it has been almost 8 months. And Jeremy left as I guy that I loved, and he's coming back as someone I can't imagine my life without. Funny how that happens when all we've had is the occasional letter, Facebook message, and phone calls (during which some of the time, understanding each other is reduced to a frustrating guessing game). But somewhere along the line I have come to realize that he is all that I want in a guy, and I'm beyond happy to be his, and I haven't been around him in this context. I haven't been around him at all. And going from a relationship based on phone calls, to being around one another 24/7 four 14 days is going to be a shock. And then he's going to leave again, which I have already established will be the worst feeling in the world.
It's weird too, because this relationship I have with Jeremy has become some sort of alter-ego for me. I have my life in Chicago, with my friends, my school, the memory of a me that I very recently used to be. Chicago feels like home. There is nothing of Jeremy there. The only connection that ever would be in Chicago is Christie, and the past few times I've been in the city, she hasn't been there, and I haven't even been around Christie but once as Jeremy's girlfriend. Then, there is my life here, in Crawfordsville/Ladoga, where there isn't even a hint of Jeremy. Jeremy is from that weird transition period where I ended up in Colorado for the best summer of my life, right after the worst semester of my life. I was caught on the fringe of an identity crisis, and the most epic fall from grace that I could imagine. And Jeremy just happened to be right where I landed. And for three weeks I let myself fall for him at an alarming rate and as suddenly as it began, that weird phase of my life ended, and with it went Jeremy. And now he is going to pop back in my life and probably shake it up once more, and then leave me with my boring life in which I feel as if I am going nowhere fast, just waiting to figure out where and what I'll be when he comes back. I want what I had with him in Colorado on a far more permanent basis. Life with Jer is fun and exciting and to be loved the way that he loves me is kind of indescribable. And if I can only get Jer for 2 weeks at a time for now, I'll take it. Because those two weeks are worth every second of waiting in between.

I play a damn good fool

I've been realizing that when it comes to my heart, I can be pretty careless. I wear it on my sleeve like it's nothing. It seems that at even the slightest indication of care or interest, I put it all out there. I hold nothing back. The only person I ever played my interest down with was Sam. Because although he pursued me, it was off an on, and despite all the flirting and the 'dates', I was still just the girl he called when he had a crush on an Asian chick. Someone he could really be with.

Despite the huge risks, I always pour out my heart and give it all. Because I love loving. And then I get hurt, and wonder why the hell I could never be good enough despite the fact that I did give it all. If anything, I care too much.

When I fall, I fall hard and fast and my heart is committed. And when I start to get scared and doubt, it's too late. Extracting my feelings would be like trying to extract a bullet from my flesh without leaving a wound where I was shot. There's no doing it.

With Mark, one kiss after a few too many drinks was enough to set my hopes so high, that despite the fact that he turned out to be an ass hole, I couldn't stop caring and wasting my good intentions on him. And the worst thing about Mark was that he knew how much I cared, how much I liked him, and he played it up. He used my feelings to stroke his own fucking ego and treated me like trash. And although I boldly told my friends that it was his loss, I suppressed the true conclusion that I had come to, which was that in reality, I was worth absolutely nothing. One can only be treated like trash for so long before they begin to believe that they really are trash.

I wish I could be more hesitant. You would think I would be after being hurt over and over. I wish I wouldn't just say everything on my heart and mind. I wish I could be more careful, because by the time I start to distrust, and my over-analyzing brain is freaking out, I've already made a fool of myself.

A few of my favorite people...

I find myself often referring to my 'favorite' people. So I thought it might be worth noting. They are in no particular order, but these people stand out in my mind as people I would not care to have to live without, and I am thankful for having them in my life. I love them all.

Sasha: When I think 'best friend' a few names come to my mind, but the best of my best friends would without a doubt have to be Sasha. I've known Sasha since 3rd grade, or at least that's when I remember her becoming a regular part of my life. She's been there through everything. She probably knows me better than anyone, and she is the one person that I have that I can tell absolutely anything to without any fear of condemnation, or for fear of losing her friendship. No matter how much time passes we always pick up where we left off. I definitely miss having her around.

Ruth: Hands down the 'coolest' friend I have. I am NOT an easy person to live with, by any means, and although on more than one occasion I came home to all my stuff in trash bags on my bed, I couldn't ask for a better roommate. And although our battle over music was a constant one, we managed to compromise on most occasions, and probably thoroughly offended every girlon our floor. But Ruth is more than the world's best roomie. She was never once afraid to tell me when I was being a dumb ass, and when I realized what a dumb ass I was, she never said "I told you so" but comforted me when I bawled my eyes out over my sheer stupidity. She's a ballsy friend, and one I need. My appreciation for her is unending.

Austin: Oh, Austin. Austin is one of the very, very, very few people (very few being two) who saw me at my absolute worst, who knew how badly I fucked up, who was literally with me at my worst moment to date. And he somehow still saw my worth. Austin kept my head above water when I was drowning in despair. And although he could have very easily written me off, he defended me. And I have seen Austin transform into a guy that I admire and respect more than I thought I could. I am fiercely proud of him, and through all of his bull shit, I feel privileged to know a small part of his journey. I could probably rave about Austin a bit more, but the fact is, he's a great friend, and a loving brother. I have also never been kicked out or chased out of more places than with Austin, but that is another matter all together. :)

Dave: To try to describe Dave in a brief paragraph is impossible, but I'll try. I adore Dave. He is one of a kind. When I say one of a kind, I mean I have never, and will never meet a soul comparable to David Thomas Ulrich. I remember our first conversation in a Starbucks after we voted in the presidential election together. I remember being flabbergasted by the maturity of this young guy. He is so grounded, and so real. He is an open book, sharing his life with others for the benefit of all who are blessed to know him. I miss having long talks with him at dinner, where he would pull various seasonings for food out of his backpack. And I have never played with a guy's hair, or any girl's hair for that matter, as much as I did Dave's. Granted, I have never put dreads in anyone else's hair. (I'm sorry they didn't work out, Dave. However, I don't regret the early mornings and hours spent destroying your great, hippie hair.)

Aaron: My little brother. I haven't been the best sister, what with my tendency to up and leave rather frequently, but the relationship and closeness I have to Aaron now is not something I want to lose. And although I have lost a lot of sleep worrying about him, I know he is the one person I can count on in my family to stick up for me when certain mothers and girlfriends are being nasty, psychotic bitches. Aaron knows my damage best, because he's been through all the same shit. The protectiveness I feel for Aaron is unlike anything I have felt before. He will always be my little brother, and I would do anything to spare him the pain he's dealing with.

Jacquelyn: Jacquelyn and I are almost too similar to be

best friends. Our influence on one another is certainly not an advantage. I wish I could calculate how much time we have spent just sitting and avoiding life. Or how many hours we spent lost on the streets of Chicago. Jacquelyn is one of the few girls in my life that I have more of a sister relationship with, but after three years of ridiculously close proximity, I think it's to be expected. And although after our first meeting in CPO and I thought she hated me, I'd say we ended up pretty alright.

Christie: One of the few friends that I can get into a nearly physical altercation with and still end up cuddling before bed at night. :) Christie and I have had some less than friendly moments, but I don't know what I would do without her loving influence in my life. It's not for no reason that I call her 'mom'. I envy Christie the love that she has, and disappointing her is the hardest thing

for me to do.

Jer: Although you haven't been in my life very long at all, I think you're pretty swell. My love for you and my relationship with you isn't comparable to any of the above, but I have never found it so easy to enjoy anyone as much as I enjoy you. Loving you is pretty effortless, even if our relationship means a lot of work. I am a very, very lucky girl, and I hope to be yours for some time.

I drove to Chicago, all things go, all things go...

I miss Chicago more than I've ever missed any place before. It's hard to believe that such a large, cold, busy place could be the best home that I've ever had, but it is. I remember in my first semester that my parents forbid that I go anywhere alone, even to the Starbucks a block away from Moody. But my fear of the huge, obnoxious city quickly deteriorated, partially because of necessity, and partially because of the comfort that I soon acquired on the streets near Moody. I went from not being able to walk to the S'bucks a block away, to traveling an hour and a half round trip to Humboldt Park by myself, going by buses, train, and foot. I went from being afraid of the city, to wanting to embrace every aspect of it. Fortunately, I had friends who were not afraid of exploring the city, as many Moody students are prone to be.

I miss hazy warm nights where walking through the city wasn't a trial and it didn't matter if the bus we were waiting for was an hour late. I miss walking on the beaches and playing ultimate frisbee at night. I miss getting lost and stumbling upon hip places like Reckless Records, Myopic Books, Buffalo Exchange and all of the joys of places like Wrigleyville and Wicker Park. I miss Navy Pier and the fireworks. I miss getting caught in warm downpours and getting back to school drenched to the bone, all for the sake of Dunkin Donuts with my best friends. I miss almost everything about the life that I had there, and I would give almost anything to have it back again.

This is not okay.

I have moments where I know that things will not be okay.

I was surprised to find an email in my inbox from Jeremy at 2 in the afternoon. He normally emailed me from 10pm-5am, my time. And the length of the email upon opening it surprised me.

As I read the email, I couldn't believe the words my eyes were taking in. I had to read the email twice before the gravity of it settled like a heavy weight in my stomach. Before I could stop the tears, they were rolling off my cheeks onto the keyboard.

This is not okay.

He is not okay.

I am not okay.

The horrors of war are okay when they are safely contained on a movie screen. Or confined to the pages of a book that a stranger wrote. But when they are from the person that you love, when they are as fresh as the blood of innocent lives lost, or a village still smoldering, then it is not okay.

My body aches. My heart aches. There is absolutely nothing that I can do or that I can say to offer comfort in this situation. This seems to be as wrong as the world gets. I pray, but for what? That Jeremy can see what he saw and somehow be okay? That he can get back to life in the states and be happy again, laugh again, after witnessing what he has seen? That whatever and whoever is left after an air strike can move on with their lives without a body of their child, or their husband, or their wife to mourn over? Christians, in these circumstances, would seek to see those affected come to Christ out of these kinds of circumstances. But what Muslim is going to seek after the God of the men who just ended their lives? What hope is there in such destruction? What kind of light can pierce that darkness? I don't see any. You can't tell people that "It will be okay."

It will not be okay.

Fall and the Mega Awesome Playlist.

I am sitting on the front porch of my grandparents house, listening to Derek's "Unfinished and Untouched Mega Awesome Playlist!" Yellow, by Coldplay is currently playing, and it fits the mood of this autumn day quite nicely. The elementary school across the street is getting ready to let out, and parents are lining up down the block to pick up their children. Across the street at the play ground, one tree is beautiful, brilliant shades of gold and orange. The rest are stubbornly remaining green for a few more days or weeks. Children shout as they play a juvenile version of Ultimate frisbee across the street at the ball diamonds.

This is my first day off in a week, and I am rather enjoying the lovely day. Every thing seems to have that 'right' feeling. Of almost perfection. Because surely nothing can ever be perfect. Perhaps perfect would be having Jeremy sitting on the porch swing next to me, but I'm sure I would find other things to long for even as he sat beside me.

I've recently developed a strong aversion to accepting the present. The present, as in present-tense. Now. This very moment. I avoid it like the plague. It is rather unfortunate, because I could probably be making much more of the here and now if I didn't spend all of my time missing the past and longing for the future. I also spend an absurd amount of time thinking about 'the Ghan' as it has been affectionately titled before. I think that it is probably natural to spend so much time thinking about the war, seeing as it pretty directly involves me now, whether I want it to or not.

Life definitely isn't how I expected it to be a year or so ago. But I feel fairly certain that this is where I'm supposed to be. I guess I should just accept it.