It has been a considerable while since I last opened this page and started tapping away at my keys, hoping something coherent would form from the tumultuous thoughts and feelings I having rolling about inside my head. Upon first returning to blogger I scanned the multitude of unfinished posts I began and left with no conclusion during the course of the summer. I have always found it rather difficult to admit my feelings even to myself, so it should really come as no surprise that putting them down on paper— or at the very least the digital equivalent— is proving twice as trying.

During the past four months I have regularly stayed out past 3am, won and lost at poker, walked on the beach in the pitch black of the early morning, smoked and drank, made new friends, been labeled a flirt, earned my driver's license, grown out my hair, started college with 15 units, been lost in Downtown San Francisco in the middle of the night, come to terms with being a point of stability, thrown myself into a world of fantasy, plotted and planned, sketched until my hands fell off at the wrists, rediscovered anxiety attacks and nerve problems, missed my sisters, entered the retail workforce, and actually trusted someone enough to let them have a real piece of my heart.

Just four months. A quarter of a year. But it feels like forever ago that I graduated.

Right now my mind is a whirlwind of confusion. It has always been difficult for me to come to terms with my emotions. If you have ever tried to hold my in place during a breakdown as my desperately flighty ways tried to convince me that I would be fine if I could only run and run and not look back— you know where my headspace is currently located. Houdini has nothing on my escapist ways. It has taken me over eighteen years to accept that I lie to myself to keep from getting hurt. I convince myself that I would never be able to lose weight even if I did excercise and eat properly. I define sex as an interaction between bodies and nothing more. I tell myself I would surely cheat if I ever tried to maintain a monogamous relationship. I never try to be better than I currently I am, because I know I will never live up to the goals I set.

All of it is just a series of meaningless delusions piled one on top of the other. Ridiculous.

Talking to Emily and Jess has always made it better, but remembering a discussion I had with Jessi about her roommate still being almost completely reliant on her mother, I have realized that I am no where near as emotionally independent as I though I was. I still rely so much on Em and Jess to keep me sane. On all of my friends that I have any real degree of trust in. But if I never learn how to deal with my own problems— mental, emotional, and physical— how can I ever plan to become a functional member of the universe?

I do not know what I am going to do, or what it will take to make me feel more confident in my own person. But I guarantee you, I plan to find out.