Personal.

So, as I've mentioned before, I have another blog. It's over on Tumblr and it's pretty freakin' cool. But whenever I deviate from my norm of posting song lyrics and reblogging pictures and write something personal, I feel like I've been violated. My mom follows my other blog and whenever I write something personal on there rather than here, she makes sure to mention she read it. Those are my personal thoughts and feelings. She may not always like what I have to say.

Exhibit A: Last night, I posted about how I missed being at school. I missed being independent and able to do whatever I wanted. I wrote that there are too many rules at home and I really can't wait to go back.

She clearly took offense to this. I was just being honest. Now, I'm forced to write my personal thoughts and feelings somewhere else. This was the reason why I got the other blog in the first place. I escaped to Tumblr from Facebook. I needed somewhere I could dump everything. It's been my rock whenever I needed one. And now, I barely have that... I have this... This is usually for the bigger things; the more hurtful, painful things, and I feel the title suits it perfectly: "I'm not together, but I'm getting there." If she finds this blog, the last place I can safely dump my feelings, opinions, and thoughts, I'm going to go crazy.

Made these gifs to post on the other blog...don't mind them...

Lonely.

I try to make it seem like I'm okay with being alone, but right now I don't think I am. I've technically been single for the vast majority of the last four years, with a week-long long-distance relationship in the middle. I've got something casual, but nothing serious. It's not a relationship, it's not a friendship, it's physical. I want something more than that. I just want someone to sleep with me. No, not sex. Sleep with me. Hold me in their arms and just cuddle and caress me until I fall deeply into sleep. I want someone to kiss me sweetly in the rain. I want chivalry to come back from the dead: opening doors, pulling out chairs, being courteous. I want to feel special. I want to feel loved. I don't want to leave your room feeling like a cheap piece of trash anymore.

Most people would ask me: "Jess, if you hate yourself after being with Mr. Physical, why do you keep going back to him? Why don't you just end it?"

I don't end it because I like the way I feel when he finally calls. I like the way he makes me feel like I matter before I go over there. I like the way I feel while we're together. I like the way he kisses me..passionately, without regret. I like the way we always end up laughing, even at the smallest of things.

But then, by the time I'm leaving, it changes. We're quiet. By the time I've left, I'm left wondering if it was just a facade; wondering if it was actually real.

I'm lonely. I want someone to love me the way I want to be loved...the way I need to be loved.

Love and Passion.

I don’t really believe in love anymore. I’ve been pushed down, shoved around, and broken enough to realize that perhaps that “happily ever after” we’re all fighting for isn’t really out there. I mean, how many “Prince Charmings” can there really be? Is there one for each of us? There can’t be, then there wouldn’t be anything special about them. They’d just be another Average Joe…and who wants a “happily ever after” with one of those? Exactly. Nobody. I mean, perhaps there will be someone you care enough about to spend the rest of your life with, but is that really love? At the end of the day, twenty years from now when perhaps they’re not as attractive as you first met them and you’ve fought about everything from what television channel you’re watching to what dress to wear to the party, will you still feel that passion that you had when you first met? Will that still exist? The answer is probably not. 

Let’s face it, the divorce rate in the good ol’ United States of America is over 50%, that’s right, over half of the couples getting married in the U.S. ends up getting divorced, and the divorce rate increases the more times it happens, as well as among young people. 

So, you’d probably ask me, “What do you believe in if you don’t believe in love, Jess?” 

I believe in passion. I believe in moments of passion, of lust, of affection. I believe in lasting friendships, but not in “happily ever after”. I believe in wanting. I believe in longing. I believe in broken dreams and heartache. I don’t believe in lasting love, that picture perfect painting drawn for us by fairy tales and Disney movies.

That’s what I believe in.

This doesn't really go with the entire theme of my blog, but...I love it.

Wrapped Around.

Honestly, I'd give anything to have one night wrapped up in your arms. I'd give a kidney, my liver, my heart, just to spend one night with your arms wrapped around me, with your warm breath on my skin. We wouldn't even have to have sex, we could just lie together, entangled in the sheets, sleeping comfortably. When I look at you, I see the arms that always seem so inviting. The kind of arms that I've always longed to have holding me tighter than anything. I just wish you could see me for more than what I look like. I'm so much more than the girl in the library you feel obligated to say hello to. I have feelings, I have a heart, I am capable of love and affection. I'm also capable of longing and lusting, which is just what I've done. I've longed for you. I've lusted after you. You never even realized. You just see me as the girl in the library. You just see me as the newly-elected College Democrats secretary. Nothing more than that. It's almost like I'm robotic to you.


I am a little bit more than that girl in the library. Someday you'll notice.

Boyfriend Envy.

I now, officially, have boyfriend envy. I see, perusing my other blog, a post by my best friend, describing a video his boyfriend left for him. I want someone to do that for me. I want someone to take the time, record me a song (MY FAVORITE DAVE MATTHEWS BAND SONG?! UGH, YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME.), and leave it in a public place where everyone can see just how much you care about me. I want someone who isn't ashamed of me; someone who is proud to say, "yeah, she's my girlfriend and she's amazing" and would talk to me somewhere outside of his bedroom.

But I can't have that. God knows I'll never have that, especially with the guy I'm "with" (I'M NOT EVEN WITH HIM. GODDAMNIT) currently.

My heart is warm, but sad. I literally watched a minute of that song and cried because of a) how good it was, and b) how utterly sad it made me feel, knowing that I'll probably never have something like that. My current "beau" played his guitar for me once, the very first night...and it just so happened that he played that very same song for me: "Crash Into Me." I wish it was a more conventional relationship. Maybe we'd be friends, maybe we'd be more than that, but I wish we'd find somewhere to lay in the friendship spectrum, instead of balancing on the line between friends and lovers. After all, it's "friends, lovers, or nothing."

Gosh, I wish I'd seen that post last night; it would've cleared my mind a lot easier...and now I've decided what I want.

Wanting Kisses.

I just want your kiss, boy.

Of course. That's all I want tonight. I want your lips against mine, your tongue gently caressing mine. I want your extraordinarily soft hands grabbing mine. I'd give anything to jump in your bed right now; the bed that's even more comfortable than my own here at home. I'd love to be laughing with you as I nearly knock you out of bed when I take up more than half of it. I'd love to have you leaning against my chest as we nearly fall asleep.

I've never craved something like this. I've never had something like this to crave. Maybe that's supposed to mean something; like I want more than just a casual fling with you. Like I want something lasting, something meaningful... But I don't know what you want. And the idea of something serious scares me, as I'm relatively certain it does for you.

So many thoughts. For now, I'll just be wishing that you and I could be spending at least part of tonight together.

As Time Goes By.

I just realized what time of year it is. It's Christmas time again. I remember last year, right about this time, I was frantically filling out college applications and fighting with my mother about how long I had put them off. I was finishing up a few last minute projects, and getting prepared for the inevitable-over-Winter-Break homework that was always assigned.

Just one year later, I'm preparing myself for finals week. I got accepted to colleges, I ended up making a bad college decision, choosing to come to the University at Albany, and have changed so much as a person since then.

Since coming to college, I've become that girl I never thought I'd be. Never. People in my life have come and gone, and I barely recognize the girl I've become.

My roommate said something to me the other day that really knocked this change home. I was talking to a friend about something I did last week and she says to me "What happened to my innocent roommate?"

And I couldn't answer. I don't know where she's gone. I don't know what happened to me. I've changed, and honestly, I don't know if I like the person I've become. I used to be so wholesome and "straight-edge" I guess you could call it. I never drank, I barely knew what "hooking up" was, let alone understood the concept of a "friend with benefits" or a "booty call." And yet, here I am, doing all of those things. I had never seen the inside of a night club, had no idea that I was able to illegally purchase alcohol (depending on what night it is).The idea of sex scared me. Literally, frightened me.

I've become more politically active and more comfortable in my own skin, thanks to Model UN and countless other interviews I've given since the October 1st decision to "deactivate" the five academic programs here at the University (French, Italian, Russian, Classics, and Theatre). I have the confidence I never even dreamed of. I've gotten myself a spot on the Executive Board of my favorite on-campus group, the College Democrats, by sheer determination.

I just wish that I could've kept the positive and stayed away from the negative... There are some things I've become that I really wish I didn't...

Sometimes.

We're having a judgment day about everyone.

That does not make it acceptable. I'm sorry. There is only so much shit I can take. Especially from people who I've never actually met in real life. Seriously. I'm just so pissed off right now that I can't even function properly.

Something Simple.

You know that silly little numbers game everyone's playing on facebook these days? Well, I decided to grow a pair of balls and send a message to the guy I'm madly in love with, giving him a number for him to say something cute about me.


So, after me nervously, nervously waiting for hours and hours, this cute little post shows up in my news feed:


"I'm always impressed with you. I hope you're on my team any time I have a project." 


I'm always impressed with you. I don't know how the fuck I "impress" him, but whatever it is, it makes me fucking happy to hear him say that.


Maybe after his semester in DC, I'll have a chance... LOLJK. It's never going to happen. I'm sure I've already been friend zoned. Oh well, I'll just admire him from afar.

Guilt Tripping.

What is this sudden feeling of guilt sweeping over me? What the fuck is up with this? I do not belong to him. I am not his. He is not mine. He and I? We aren't anything. We aren't even really friends. I don't know what we are, but we're not much of anything.

So why the hell do I feel guilty about what happened Saturday night? Saturday night was Saturday night. I did what I did and I'm not taking it back. (Although Thursday morning should be, erm, interesting.) I didn't feel guilty the last time it happened. I didn't feel guilty at all.

I don't want to see him. I don't know why I don't. Yet, I know I'm going over there tonight, he and I have already discussed it and arrangements have already been made. Even though it's about twenty-five degrees outside. I feel bad about Saturday. Should I feel bad about Saturday? No, I don't think so. I mean, he and I aren't even together. We aren't a couple. We aren't exclusive. He can do what he wants and I can do what I want and it's an open arrangement. It's not much of anything. It's casual. So why am I feeling this weird guilt that just won't go away?!

Maybe my conscience is finally catching up to me. I mean, it's only been missing in action all semester. Of COURSE it'll show up right before finals week.

This man, David Karp, (HOLY SHIT THERE IS A PICTURE OF BOB DYLAN BEHIND HIM I'M EVEN MORE IN LOVE THAN I ALREADY WAS) is the love of my life. He is the man behind Tumblr.

Tumblr, in a few short months, has taken over my life. Completely. So much tumbling all of the time.

Now that the Tumblr-apocalypse has occured, I have had to find other things to do. Like actually watch films for classes. Go figure.

I still miss my blog.

Purity.

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With Bleu Cheese, Below High School Musical?

You've told me before that you care about me as much as you love bleu cheese dressing. That hurt me, more than I care to explain in this post that is hastily being written on a BlackBerry. But now I think you've gone too far here.

Today is Wednesday. Wednesdays, to me, are held very sacred being as they are traditionally "Family Dinner" nights. Tonight, however, I didn't feel a very, erm, "familiar" bond from you. You decided that instead of waiting for me to get out of rehearsal, you went to dinner earlier and left very soon after I had gotten there. Not because you had a meeting, not because you had homework (reasons that I understand completely). No. You left so you could watch High School Musical. Fucking. High. School. Musical. You value a fucking Disney movie more than having dinner with me?

Not two hours before you commented that you "loved me and I make you laugh." I wish you showed that you loved me just a little more often.

Promises, Promises.

You promise me "tomorrow." Honey, "tomorrow" was fucking yesterday. I see you today, you completely disregard my existance. Not even a "hi" or a "how are you?"...nothing. Silence. And you leave. Without saying a word. I know that's the way we normally are, but after completely standing me up the other night? You should at least be somewhat cordial. What would you do if I had done that to you? You would've been pissed. I know it. I've tried it before. And it never works because I have no self-discipline and I believe you've finally realized that. I think you know that no matter how hard I try, I just won't be able to say "no." (Except when it comes to certain things.) I'm just tired of always being an object. I am a person, I have feelings, and you should probably acknowledge that sometimes. I'd like to feel like I'm human.

I'm saddened by all of this too. How could I have let this happen to myself? Why did I let myself get wrapped up in this? I can say wholeheartedly that I am not dependent on him for anything at all. I couldn't give two shits about this guy. I think most of this is sheer and utter disappointment in myself. I used to be stronger than this and now I've given it all up. I've let down my guard and let someone in who I really shouldn't even be giving the time of day! There are so many better guys out there for me and I'm just letting this one string me along for the ride just because I'm a slut that wants "instant gratification." And I KNEW that gratification wouldn't come without a cost. I KNEW it. But I said "fuck it" and did it anyway, because I'm a dumb ass.

Promises, promises...no matter what, they're always broken. Whether they're between two people or you and yourself, they're always broken.

Patience Turns to Impatience

So not only have I not received any sort of communication from the certain someone mentioned in the last post but I am sitting in the middle of a hall meeting and writing this post. This is literally the worst combination ever...

Patience.

I have been so fucking patient with you through this whole thing. The entire fucking time. All semester, I've been at your beck and call. And as soon as I want something from you, you bail on me. YOU FUCKING BAIL ON ME. You say you "owe me big." You're damn right you do. I expect chocolate and flowers and the whole fucking nine yards after tonight. I want the whole fucking thing. And you'd better deliver. It had better be decent for as long as I've had to wait for this.

An this has been a rant.

Significant, Statistically.

There is nothing worse than feeling like you don't actually matter to someone. Especially because I've been very kind to you. We can't even have a conversation outside of your room. That's just not how we are. We even have a class together and you can't even talk to me about some common interest we have? You know we have them; that's what brought us I to this situation in the first place...unless you don't remember. Which, honestly, wouldn't surprise me.

The fact that I can't say no to you whenever you call me is the worst thing in the world. You call me at one o'clock in the morning? Ten minutes later, I'm at your door. I'm the exact person I never thought I would be. And a part of me is truly ashamed. The rest of me is just plain confused. I used to have values and morals but now they've all gone to shit. Apparently.

I just can't believe why I'm letting all if this go on and my conscience has gone on vacation.

Crushing and Crashing.

There is something amazing about you that I just can't figure out. I don't know why I am so into you. I cannot have you. You don't want me. You're also going to Washington next semester to do an internship. There's really no point to me wanting you. Yet, I find myself getting giddy every time I see you; and when you say hi to me, I just get so excited. It makes me so happy. I can't help it. There's nothing I can do to make it stop. And I need to. It's not healthy for me to want yet another guy I can't have. I know for me it's always been about chasing and wanting, but shouldn't it be more about having? Wouldn't that make more sense?

Nothing I do ever makes sense.

Kissing.

You know when you kiss someone and you feel their lips on yours for hours afterwards?

I have that. I love that.

I shouldn't have that with this guy. It shouldn't be this way.

But it is.

I mean, I'm not attracted to him. At all. But the way he kisses me is just plain magical.

I feel strange without feeling that tonight. But, thinking about it brings it back. And now I feel it again.

I can only wonder why.

You know, sometimes those little "jokes" go too far. Like, yes, in moderation, they're fine. But this is starting to feel like high school all over again. I hated that shit. Yes, I love you guys as my friends, but you have to realize that sometimes you just go too far.

Feelings.

I feel like I am making the wrong choice.
I feel like I don't know how to turn it around.
I feel like I constantly think about cheating.
I feel like I want you in my bed.
I feel like I want you to be the one.
I feel like I need to realize I can never have you.
I feel like I need to do something unhealthy.
I feel like I need to lose control.
I feel like I need to take control.
I feel like I'm feeling too much.
I feel like I don't want to feel anything at all.

Second Guessing.

I have done so much second guessing in the last two days, ever since I saw you get on that train back home. I have thought about time and time and time and time again about the distance, about the pain, about the heartache, about everything... I miss you. I didn't realize just how much I would miss you up until when you left. Once you left, I realized just how much I needed someone like you in my life.

Why I thought I'd be somewhat okay with you being four hours away from me by train, is completely beyond me. I thought I'd be able to handle being loved by someone who couldn't constantly show me their affection. Now that I've been able to see just how much you could love me, I don't want to have to go back to the way it was, because now I'm addicted.

I wish I could feel confident telling you how I feel about this. But, I just can't. Honestly, I can't.

Ugh. I just can't do this. I don't know why I decided to start...

Something.

"Something has changed within me, something is not the same. I'm tired of playing by the rules of someone else's game."

I have turned a page. Something is different.

I knew that when he left I would miss him. I just didn't know it'd be this much. I've only known you a few months, dated you a few days, and already I feel attached. What we did last night and this morning has made a mark on me for a while. (Haha.) I don't know how I'm going to deal with not seeing you for the next three weeks or so. It's difficult keeping a long-distance relationship together; I know that. What I also know is that I think we can do this if we set our minds to it. If you're willing to try, I'm willing to try...

Today.

Right now, I'm in the middle of fucking East Greenbush. Yes. East fucking Greenbush. I got on the wrong bus going back to Albany from "running errands." So, now I've been on a bus for fucking EVER, when I have to be back on campus by 2 in order to make my brunch date. That ain't happenin' right now. No fucking way.

So I'll skip that, do homework, and get my one square meal a day: dinner. And now we're in fucking Defreestville.

Great weekend though, and it's not even over yet. :)

Drinking.

I want to be drunk right now. Badly. In the Melville basement, there is a drunken party going on downstairs. Gah. Why we no drinking.

Not forever alone anymore.

I feel good.

Just saying.

Choices.

These are choices I do not want to make. I do not want to have to choose between the two of you. I love both of you; do you not see that? I've told you both time and time and time again that I love you both and neither of you seem to listen.

I want this to be over. I want to go back to what we had; the three of us. We were all best friends. Now, while I understand what happened and why we're in the situation we're in, I feel like this has gone on far too long. I feel like we need to move on. While I'm not the best at moving on, I feel like it's necessary.

Life is a road that needs to be driven on; we don't need to sit and wait at a rest stop forever.

Why is the president of our Student Association so attractive? Seriously.

Life or Something Like It.

"The door wasn't locked."
"Yeah, I realized that after."

Nine words. Two days.

In no way, shape, or form, is this working for me. This is killing me. I really can't live this way anymore. This is not conducive to my life. With all of the problems with my other friends, with my issue trying to acquire a French major, I really don't need you being a fucking bitch to add to my stress.

"This must be just like living in paradise. And I don't want to go home." --David Lee Roth

David, honey, you're completely wrong. The only thing I want to do is go home. I want to get away from here because it's killing me to be here. It's not anything like I wanted. It's absolutely destroying me physically, emotionally, mentally, every other -ally you can think of.

Had I known this was what my college experience was going to be when I paid that $150 housing deposit to go here, I would've said "fuck you" and gone somewhere else...regardless of whether or not I had to sell a kidney to go there.

I'm going home for the day tomorrow. I'm going to hopefully de-stress a little bit...at the oral surgeon's office. Back here for all the weekend fun festivities on Saturday...but I feel like there will be less fun involved...

I wish my college experience was just as good as everyone else's....

Personality.

This is for the personal things I can't really share on Tumblr.
This is a secret place, for those thoughts that need to come out, but can't stay where people can see them...

These are the thoughts that are meant for me.

...

Right now, I'm going through a rough patch in my freshman year. I'm losing my mind, trying to apply to get in the Honors College, salvage a GPA that's somewhat decent, discover what classes I want to take next semester, looking into possibly switching from French to Globalization Studies with a French minor if I can't actually major in French anymore due to budgetary constraints, doing Model UN research, random homework, going "balls deep" College Democrats campaigning and fundraising and getting ready for elections, keeping up with friends, having issues with my roommate who's less than sociable...

College is so busy all of the time. Seriously. No down time ever. I barely, rarely, if ever, sleep decently. That's part of the reason why I'm glad I'm going home this Friday again. I mean, really. I get a decent night's sleep in a bed that's actually comfortable and a good meal. It's totally worth it.

Replacement.

I'm blogging here because Tumblr is undergoing massive maintenance at the moment. I don't understand why. It's been doing this forEVER. Seriously. I can't even handle it.

I had a...day. I mean, classes including a test and a presentation, then a paper due in six minutes that I turned in nearly an hour ago (GO ME!), dinner with friends (as always), and homework out the ass. Seriously. I hate homework. I hated it in high school, I feel like I hate it even more now that I'm in college. At least my Friday morning class is already cancelled.

I still feel like I could use a home visit though. Which is exactly why I am, in fact, going home this weekend. It's not the big weekend at home; that's Columbus Day weekend, but it's still a nice weekend for me to be headed back to the southern half of the 518.

According to my dash, Tumblr is back, but I just don't trust it right now. It's been acting weird all night and I really don't appreciate it. Especially when I'm still all mentally scrambled-egg-like.

Chapters 1-5 of Russian Roulette

Russian Roulette

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

"He's going back home. How do I tell him how I really feel?" she asks herself frantically as she reads and rereads the text he sent her. She nearly dropped her phone when she saw it come in. "How could this have happened?"

She knew exactly how it happened. It was only a matter of time before he became a free agent and he was to leave her again. Once he was traded from the Sabres, she knew it was the beginning of the end. Two dismal seasons in Buffalo, a fantastic year in Atlanta, and she knew, deep down in her heart that it was coming.

Max and Rebecca had been friends since college. Best friends. Rebecca had always felt something more towards Max, but never bothered to tell him. He was always busy travelling and playing hockey. She believed that he didn't need anything else to worry about other than the goals he was scoring.

He texted her on a regular basis, asking her how she was doing, telling her stories of the road, being a great best friend. He was always her shoulder to cry on and now that he was going to play for SKA St. Petersburg of the KHL, she knew that for once she had to take a chance.

Rebecca was always the conservative type. The only thing that wasn't conservative about her were her political beliefs. She didn't tell boys she liked them. She didn't drink, she didn't smoke, she wasn't promiscuous by any stretch. She was just a normal girl, a Plain Jane, that everyone always overlooked.

She liked boys in high school and college, but never made any moves. She hadn't had a boyfriend since middle school, and wasn't sure exactly how to act around guys. Unless it was Max. Around Max, she could be herself. She was the person she always wanted to be around him: funny, smart, savvy, sexy, the whole deal. He made her feel like she was perfect, like she always wanted to be.

She knew that this time, she wouldn't let the one she loved...skate away.

Chapter 2: The American Dream

"But what if he doesn't feel the same way? I'm just going to look like a total loser." She sat, second guessing what she had typed in the email to him. "Should I call him and tell him? Isn't writing an email a little...lame? What if things get awkward? I don't want to lose him!"

She threw her BlackBerry down on the table. She was always indecisive. About everything. Whenever she bought something, she always, without fail, got buyer's remorse. Even over the little things, like groceries.

"Alright, Rebecca. This is your one chance. You have to tell him. Otherwise, you're going to lose him and he's going to end up in love with someone else. Then you'll kick yourself for the rest of your life and your worst fears will be realized," thinking that to herself caused her to shutter. Her worst fears were to lose everyone she ever loved and to die alone. She wanted the whole deal for her life, the fancy marriage, the two and a half kids, the white house with the picket fence: the American Dream.

She picked up the Blackberry again, wiped it off with a napkin because she accidentally slammed it into a carefully portion controlled bowl of chips and dip, erased what she'd already written and typed:

"Max, I know we've been friends for a really long time. You're one of my best friends. I can tell you anything and everything and I can completely and totally be myself around you. I feel something stronger than friendship toward you though. I love you. Those three words are the hardest to say, but it's true. I love you. I wish you weren't leaving me for Russia, but I know that it's best for you...I just thought I'd tell you how I felt before I lost you to the KHL. I'm going to miss you, more than you could ever know. Love always, Becks."

She'd poured the truth into that email. There was really only one person she could've imagined having that with, and she was letting him get away faster and faster by the second. She couldn't stand the thought of him getting away.

"I don't know if I should send it. He's going to ignore it. He's not going to believe it. He's going to react the wrong way," she continued to be negative. Max always said that she was the most negative optimist he'd ever known. It's so poorly written. I should definitely do a spell and grammar check before it gets sent...if it gets sent at all. Oh, I don't know anymore."

The one thing she knew for sure, was that she had to sleep before she made a decision. If there was one thing that could've made this any easier for her, it would be to sleep it over.

Chapter 3: Dreaming What Could Be

"Well, that was the worst night of sleep I've had in ages," she thought to herself as she rolled out of bed, scratching her fingers through her shoulder-length curly brown hair. Her BlackBerry was flashing it's beady little green Low Battery light at her, screaming out for attention. "Shit, I left it on all night...again."

As she reached for her charger, conveniently tucked within the confines of her upper right desk drawer, she noticed the little orange envelope which signified she had a new text message:

"From: Max
Sent: 5:53am

What happened last night? We were talking and then POOF, you disappeared? Is everything okay?"

She twirled her thumb around the trackball, thinking what to reply. Her mind was still in a tizzy. She wasn't able to decide overnight. She remembered dreaming about what could be, how happy they could be together if only she could decide.

"I suppose I should respond. He is such a worry wart. I don't want him thinking I fell off the face of the earth or something." One thing she was sure of was that he did care about her.

She typed carefully, making sure that her decaffeinated and slightly asleep state did not cause her to mistakenly spill the beans about her true feelings for him.

"To: Max
Sent: 7:48am

Yeah, I'm fine. I was tired and I fell asleep with my phone in my hand....again. Sorry!"

"...Well, that was a lame text," she thought to herself as she reread it. She knew that there was more than enough emotion behind every "I'm fine," but the question became if he knew that.

Chapter 4: Moving Forward

"What if he doesn't answer? It's Tuesday, normally he goes to the gym and lifts all morning." Thinking about what he was going to say was killing her. She couldn't stand it. She was thinking about

She suddenly remembered the email she had saved to her Drafts the night before. She still wasn't sure she should send it or not, but she banked on him being at the gym and not getting it until after he was done. Then at least, she could relax and enjoy a good portion of her morning before she had to continue packing for college.

She was leaving, he was leaving, life was moving on. It puzzled her. She never understood the passage of time. She never understood any of it. She'd remembered hearing on an episode of 60 Minutes that "planning was bad for the passage of time." She remembered Andy Rooney saying that. It impacted her profoundly. She knew, after that, that she couldn't plan out every millisecond and microsecond of her life.

"If I'm going to do this, then I'm not going to halfass it. I'm going to tell him. I have to. I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I let him get away without telling him how I feel about him."

She carefully picked up her BlackBerry, opened the email, went to the menu to where it said "Send," and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and gently pressed the button, sending the email.

Letting out a sigh, she shut off her phone and ran downstairs to fix herself a cup of tea, planning to distract herself with by packing for school and doing her laundry.

Chapter 5: Just Can't Stand to Say Goodbye

"This tea is possibly the best I've ever made," she thinks as she's walking up the stairs with her mug, filled with orange African honey bush tea, her favorite. For her, drinking a hot mug of tea was her escape. Whenever she was feeling down or stressed or at the end of her rope, she would heat up a cup of tea and she would automatically feel better.

"I have to keep packing. I leave in two days and I'm nowhere near ready to go." She starts thinking aloud. Sighing deeply, she slinks down into the chair in front of her desk and glances at her computer, and clicks over to her browser, always filled with the same tabs: Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, and Pandora. She shifts from the Tumblr tab, making sure to glance at her Messages (0), even though it was TMI Tuesday and she rarely received any questions or comments, and over to her Pandora.

Inhaling slowly, she tries to decide what she wanted to listen to: John Mayer or Ben Folds Radio. Whenever she is sad, she tries to pick between those two. They're much more mellow than her other stations: Akon, Ke$ha, and Lady Gaga among them. She decided that John Mayer would be best.

She stands up, turns slowly toward her closet, and begins to think about him. She pulls one of Max's old shirts off of the floor, shakes it out, and begins to cry. She knows that he's leaving, but she just can't bare to say goodbye.

Of course, with Pandora's insane ability to read her thoughts, John Mayer's "Split Screen Sadness" is playing, only adding to her sadness. It doesn't get much worse than that.

"Well, at least it's not 'All By Myself'...that would be worse," and she begins to sing along.

"Maybe I’ll sleep inside my coat and
Wait on the porch ‘til you come back home
Oh, right
I can’t find a flight

We share the sadness
Split screen sadness"

She didn't want to forget him, ever, so in an effort to salvage every memory she's got of him, she stuffs the green St. Patrick's Day Sabres shirt, formerly one of his favorites, into a concealed area of her suitcase. No one would ever suspect she'd hid anything there, so it would be safe from her mother's for sure evaluation of her packing.

As she tries to continue packing, she can't help but remember the story of how she got a hold of that shirt. At last year's County Fair, a storm broke out and it poured and poured and poured. Little did she know, the yellow camisole she was wearing underneath her blue polkadot blouse could show her black bra right through when it got wet. Max was working the fair, camping at the fairgrounds with his grandfather, and he offered her one of his extra shirts, the green one. The two of them being best friends, she stripped down to her bra in front of him and didn't think anything of it. She was just so cold and so grateful for that, and grateful for him, that she kept forgetting to return his shirt to him.

Suddenly, she heard a loud noise that sounded vaguely reminiscent of a dying goose, and was loud enough to shake her out of her blissful flashback. It was her phone buzzing along on top of her dresser. She knew immediately: It was Max.