apricot milk

. . . like apples of gold in pictures of silver — memory, etc.

Month: December, 2012

12.31.12

in some ways, in most ways, it’s not really the shock of any action you took. it’s mostly the sadness, the surprise at how willingly delusional i could be. and how just a casual remark can affect me so much. and i mean, this happens all the time, to so many people who are lonely, true. to so many girls, young women. and the hardest part is really believing that it is not my fault. but if you know in your heart something is going to happen, hell you just speculated about it in your little journal a month ago, why would you try to avoid that truth? i guess, our inner worlds, our inner stories we wish so hard were touchable, help us cope with the fuckedupness of the rest of everything. i mean i guess it makes sense that i projected the resolution of past pains onto a person i very much admired, someone i thought possessed all the necessary qualities to function in society i didn’t. i never wanted to admit that’s what was happening, again, but knew it was true.

hello girl. the places you went with him, the things you did in your head never existed, but they existed for you because of you. that one you want to love is your self. or at least, you might think she deserves it (let’s work on this). if he wanted to have you, you would have been had by now.

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truths of one week:

  • winter began
  • it is okay to cancel if you don’t feel like going out
  • now you don’t believe in a great god, but believe in the consistency of traffic lights, of fog settling on grass
  • family is warm and wide and won’t be around forever, so enjoy the eyerolls and every small hug and every quiet breakfast
  • that dim blue light on christmas morning will only make you think of one thing
  • and he’s traveled hundreds of miles north to see the one he loves, he tells you about it and just his written voice sounds happy, and it’s alright if your stream of thoughts is horrifying, alright that you never want to see her face whoever she is
  • and yes we share the same interests / past courses / mentors / circle of friends but that means nothing, it means nothing. i live just 1 hr from your hometown and that doesn’t change a thing because home is where you smile the most
  • steadily, the sky is getting lighter at night.

you didn’t hurt me. you owe me nothing.
i hurt me; i owe myself everything.

12.18.12

i know i am worthy of your touch. worthy of your love. & sometimes i think differently but i know it’s true. i am. and yes, worse worse things happen in the world than some white girl not getting what she wants. but i am human & love is a valid dream in life & my heart is important–if not to anyone else, than to myself.

march 3rd, 1999:

“please do what makes you happy, because you should always come first. love, mom.”

the notebook cover has a black & white cat on the front reminiscent of maurice, a childhood pet. after all these years the paper smells new. like glue and rainwater.

roughly a month before she died, my mother wrote a few journal entries in this notebook for me. the entries contained her advice about happiness, school, drugs, relationships with men, and other things. she apologized for leaving me at such an early age, and she listed some of the fun things we had done together. beach sunsets, disneyland, fog covered coastal trails. i still can’t read the journal without sobbing, seeing the dates up in the corner of the pages, noticing that she didn’t make it even a quarter of the way through the notebook before she began to slip into a cancer induced coma. the more sloppy her neat cursive became.

and i think the reason i love it so much is because i can run my fingers over the ink lines and feel her writing. that her voice still speaks to me in this little way, when i’m wondering what she would do in a situation. and she comes back to me–puts things in perspective. mind you, not all my questions can be answered, but i need those words. i eat them up, read them over and over, look for small pieces of herself in me. compare our handwriting.

lately, i’ve been wondering what she would do. if she would tell me to give up or hold on to a feeling so strong but so sickening at times. my love-goggles, my rosy eyes. if she would tell me to be careful with my heart when i have no idea what it’s doing or what to do with it. clues come in the story of my father–of how he made her believe in love again. that love-at-first-sight, love-at-college, love-after-five-minutes of simple talk sort of thing; i realized last night i inherited it from her, in a sense. the difference is, they had their time together. and if she were with me, would i have been whole & bold enough to be completely honest with you? but another person doesn’t make you whole, and this question doesn’t matter. but i ask it anyway. maybe i will always ask it. i see my life so clearly reflected in her love. the patterns we give to each other without meaning to; the patterns that make the days so clear.

headache day

it’s ridiculous when you need disasters to make you do things but–sometimes they do nudge you and lately it’s been a whole string in this state and this country and it makes me double regret all the things i never said and how i was/am a little bit of an asshole for not saying them. because when you do things to yourself you shouldn’t always blame anyone else.

at least there is green tea, and the weather is nice.

lol

dear [  ],

it’s been quite a while. what are you up to these days, and how are you?

also uh, can we start over? since i fucked shit up last time?

sincerely, me

 

12.12.12 reminders

  • hi, you’re a real person with real feelings that are yes–valid
  • you need sleep oh my god. because less sleep makes you too tender and exhauasted
  • don’t be surprised when christmas is really shitty at being a distraction. you’ll just have to deal with it
  • singing embarrassing songs written by teenage girls helps put things in perspective

12.10.12

closure–i want it. 

but it looks like i’m the only one around to give it to myself now. and i’m trying, i am. and there are still daydreams about old curtains and leaves and breaking two pieces off a bar of chocolate. and there are realities like realizing everyman else looks unattractive from all angles no matter how hard i try not to criticize. boys, maybe make your hair smell nice and hold a puppy or a kitten? it helps (though, not much in my case) because it makes you seem clean and sympathetic toward other creatures on the earth. if you’re clean, some female might want to put her body on your body. for your information.

so, it has to all be written out. not all at once, or maybe all at once. because sometimes after taking a shower, certain songs come on your spotify radio stations to taunt you and you have to stop switch to emily haines singing about now-dead-guys in las vegas. because you’re afraid of friends/professors from college hearing about this non-noise and for what? they wouldn’t do anything besides maybe laugh over big coffee / big scarves / big notebooks.

if you can’t say it out loud, write it out.