let's go to the hills where the outlines are clear

I've noticed that my entries have a tendency to revolve around a common theme. Perhaps it’s because I don’t feel comfortable expressing myself so openly in other places. I have so many outlets- so many safe and understanding outlets, yet it’s sometimes easier to just…write. Sometimes I think people get sick of hearing me bounce around the same ideas in my head over and over. A lot of the things make perfect sense to everyone around me, but I fail to really understand them.

I’ve been feeling a lot of guilt. A whole lot. Perhaps disproportionately so, but either way I can’t seem to stop these feelings of pure culpability. Sometimes I feel vindicated, free and powerful for the steps I’ve taken in my life towards feeling better about my biological situation. Other days I feel like the most selfish bitch on the face of the earth. How could I have made it all about me? I must be a real witch to hurt other people to save myself, save my feelings. It’s not really that I feel unworthy, or that I feel that I am evil. It’s more that I doubt my true intentions. I know that I felt hurt, rejected. This is definitely true. But… what if I did it for the wrong reasons? What if, because I was experiencing feelings of rejection similar to those surrounding my past, I decided to reject them before they could reject me? What sort of fucking psycho would that make me? I know people who do things like this, and I really would prefer not to be one of them. What if, in my sensitivity, I pushed people away who loved me? I know that I’ve destroyed everything we spent 8 years creating. I know that all of it is ruined now, but I can’t seem to truly regret it. I feel guilty, sure, and I question my motives, but I wouldn’t go back and change it and that scares me. The presence of empathy with an absence of the desire to regress makes me uneasy. I suppose you can’t truly regret something unless you would go back and change it. I don’t regret it. I just feel sorry about it, because it’s a sorry situation. I’m sorry that I couldn’t fix things, and perhaps that’s where this guilt is coming from. I failed to repair what had been inexplicably ruined. I couldn’t make it better, and I couldn’t convince myself that it didn’t matter. I couldn’t handle it. Some people say I should have to handle such bullshit, and I know that’s probably true. But where do you draw the line? When should I deal with something just to save someone else’s feelings? When do my needs outweigh someone else’s?

There are the days of silence...

I think it's a little too late for me to go back. By telling D that I didn't want a relationship, I'm stuck in my decision. I wouldn't change it. No. I wouldn't crawl back to them like the piece of slime I feel I am. Nothing will have changed by then, and it would be ridiculous of me to go back and try and work things about because not only will it not work, I will have lost all credibility.

No, I have to stick to my guns, no matter how it hurts. Still...I can't help but think that I could have prevented this somehow. I could have done something, said something. What could I have missed? There's definitely some guilt here, as if I owed them something. I've been conditioned to think that I owe them indefinitely, for life or whatever. But I don't really believe that. My presence took out of their lives for a little while, and their chosen absence from my life took away from me(regardless of all the gains.) I think we are about even. Thanks for my life, and your welcome for those two years of peace you got before your next daughter was born. End of story, right?


I hope he never calls me. On some levels I want him to because I want to be wanted because I have never felt it from them. You can talk about self sacrificing love and selflessness until the cows come home but no one will be able to convince me fully that you can leave someone because you love them. I understand all the logistics behind it, and I can understand selflessness... but I just don't quite buy it. We do what we have to do when it serves us best. At the end of the day, we all look out first and foremost for ourselves. This rule of nature is supposed to be eradicated with parenthood but I don't believe that it is. Selfishness in this respect is easy to cover up, to hide, to excuse. Irresponsibility cloaked with good intentions is still irresponsibility. I don't place any blame, because it WAS for the best. Thank God I am who I am and my family is my family. I do not regret it, but the ends do not justify the means. Because my life worked out beautifully we can all rest on our laurels and preach about good decisions and best interests. My life is good because of the people who raised me, not because of the people who chose not too. Their loss is definitely felt, but blood is not everything and I have to remember that.

I know that I have to focus on school and my family and my friends and my life. I have so much going for me and I know that I should be thankful and I am... but I suppose on some level I still feel badly for how things ended. I guess only time will make that go away, but I sure wish it would speed up a little bit. I don't see any situation where I would ever need them again. I have all of the information I need, and I don't see a time in my life where I would be able to subject myself to a relationship. If E changes, that's one thing, but if she doesn't (I have a distinct feeling that she won't) when could I ever be mature/callous enough to not care about how she hates me? I just don't see that happening, and on some levels it makes me very sad.

I do know one thing though: we all make our decisions. D and C made theirs, D's parent make theirs, E made hers and I finally had the courage to make my own. We make our decisions and then we live with them.

There- absolved of all guilt. These next few months are going to take me farther and farther away from all this craziness. Time can't pass fast enough.

And if you sing this lullaby..

I am going crazy in this little room. The more I try to ignore it the more I fuck up.I am forever guilty and at fault.

The air is finally getting warm . It is 3AM, and I wish I could stay awake until 5:30 so I could go outside and listen to the birds as they wake up. When I was little and woke up at ungodly hours of the morning, I would go into the living room and look out my living room window and listen to the silence of the house. I could hear, outside in the trees beside the house, the birds chirping and singing to the dawn. The sky was mostly dark, but just as I would begin to drift off to sleep with my head on the back of the couch, the sky would turn pink. The trees, black against the tangerine and coral of the sky behind them, were still and the grass was slick with dew and everything smelled like rain.

I would run off the school bus into my fathers arms, and my mother would make salad and pesto for dinner. I'd collect little bugs and try and save the frogs we found outside my hot tub. I had an orange hippopotamus and my mom's green apron and my dad's large rings that he got when he graduated from college. I had opera while I took a bath and played with my lion figurines in the water. I listened to Billy Joel cassette tapes and watched the fish in the fish tank swim as I fell asleep.

Now I have 100 different places and things. I am school I am an apartment in New York I am Pennsylvania I am nowhere. I wear a lot of bracelets and rings and my hair is too short and my eyes never a distinguishable color. I am dirty fish tanks and stupid memoirs and different languages. I am never what I am. I am soy milk and white dogs and windowsills with the paint peeling off . I am arugula and rabbits with people names . I am not the very blood that runs through my veins but am powerless to change it.

I am blond and I am light and I am nobody's but everyone's at the same time. I am not wanted, I was but then I wasn't and then I was and then I was again. Now you can't have me and it's all your fault even though I don't believe that. I long to be my own and my children's, but I have not found them yet. I have questions and I am sailing on an emerald bay. I am never far away. I am not weak and I do not hide every two weeks and I am not afraid. I long to have a place to crawl back to.


I love you and you and you and you. You are great with the ducks, and you with the fish. I should love you both but I cannot do so freely and without regret, and I should be in love and I should be angry but I cannot find the strength to be one or the other.

I know that once I am seen I lose my appeal.