No one has breakfast at Tiffany’s and no one has affairs to remember.

So I had an interesting evening last night. A few months ago, NiceGuy and Asshole were over and we were watching “Army of Darkness”. Out of nowhere, I remembered the original group of GuyGeek friends from HS, as they were the ones introduced me to that cinematic masterpiece.

Out comes the crackberry and I’m on FB searching for them.
One is in Iraq, to be back shortly (Solider).
Another still works in our HS town and lives just south of me (HS).
Another is married now, tho that was no surprise, he was always a relationship junkie (Tech).
And another just completed his divorce and now has  new live in gf, and lives just north of me (Bear).
So we set about getting reconnected.
HS and I had a nice lunch, followed by some leisurely shopping one Saturday, as well as a nice dinner at my place a few weeks later (amongst the spate of injuries and funerals that I was attending).
Solider and I have been reconnecting via email and phone (esp now that he is back in Alaska, to be home SHORTLY!!!).
And Tech and I exchanged a few phone calls and finally met up for dinner last night.

Four bottles of wine later.

Oof. Apparently he didn’t even make it to lunch, and went home after a half day. I’m still plugging away, am not quite sure why except that I am a stubborn biatch.  Each time I see these guys its been great to see them – and it was *amazing to see Tech last night. Until around the third bottle of wine. We were talking and reminiscing about old times and somehow the subject came to why we fell out of touch – SIX YEARS AGO. And he remembers it very clearly… I… do not. At all. So he proceeds to tell me his side, where yes, I was an insensitive little bitch who didn’t put his feelings very high on my list. I can only plead at this time I didn’t realize how important my friendship was to him? I was in the middle of dealing with my parents moving to another state while I was in college, holding down two jobs, two majors, and dealing with some roommate drama. I just… didn’t think. It was never anything intentional or a deliberate move to hurt him. In hindsight, I rather wish it was, so I could feel guilty and very sorry. As it stands, I’m sorry we fell out of touch, but still not.. well not quite sure what happened.
So then shortly after he stopped talking to me, I went to my parents’ new house for the summer (different state), continued to work two jobs, ended up back at school and met TheEx. The rest, as is the cliche, is history. I fell for TheEx, then came Scotland, then came more of TheEx, dealing with that bullshite, and then, then came an easy year of recovery from TheEx. Where, as I told him last night? I drank most of my pain away. Drinking and Target. Oh so hard on the pocketbook, oh so exactly what I thought I needed.

He told me last night that one of his regrets was the fact I wasn’t there to stand up at his wedding. My heart broke. Cracked right down the middle. Of course last night I was full of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I can only say I’ll be better going forward’. This morning, in the harsh light of day I’m wondering why he never tracked Me down if he missed me that much. I was on myspace, am still on FB. Granted, hidden, but we had enough mutual ties through high school and other friends he could have found me.

Don’t get me wrong, I definitely take the blame for the end of the friendship, I should have done more, tried harder. At the time the friendship dissolved I was 20-something halfway through college, trying to determine what I was going to do for the rest of my life and busy living it up. True to my form, all these guys were older (4-6 years is the spread I believe), so they were already out in the world and starting their lives. I was scattered to all the winds.

It leaves me with some mixed feelings. Oh so ever glad I’ve re-found this group, as they were fairly instrumental in my teens. These would be the guys who taught me to drive a stick, showed me where and how to punch someone if I was ever touched in a way that was not okay by me, introduced me to”Spaceballs” and “Army of Darkness”. And yet, if I was this important and he was that sad – how do you let someone like that just walk away? Slap me upside the head, write me a heartfelt email/letter and explain things. Shake me until I see it.

I can’t fix anything if I don’t know something is wrong.

I do feel it ended on a good note, a promise of renewing friendships and we’ll see where it goes. Of course, I am going to have to rub in his face that I matched him drink for drink and made it through work the next day. He… did not. And that of course, deserves shaming. Finally! I can outdrink em. But on that note? I think I’m pretty done with wine. For at least like a month.

Round 3 – Go Big or Go Home

So in keeping with the whole break up because of a nonsense reason / realize I’m awesome and he misses me / starts coming back like a beaten puppy cycle….  – I’m back with NiceGuy. I’ll definitely do a more detailed post coming up (but its part of the reason I’ve been away for so long).

Other reasons include: my crashing of mah bike / throwing my back out / a good friend’s younger sister passing / spraining of the TOP of my foot (srsly?) and of course, the actual reunion of me and NiceGuy. For round 3. Thats right, we’ve done this twice before, but we’re (I’m?) doing it again. Because I’m a sucker for this guy.

So last Saturday was his and I’s first ‘Come to Jesus’ talk, where I had informed him we are either friends or we’re bf/gf. None of this pansy-footing around stuff anymore. Also, if we were bf/gf I wanted-slash-needed to get flowers. A gesture if you will, something that would show me he wanted a relationship this time, a real one that comes with talks of the future and dreams and plans and actual dates and some of the trappings of a typical relationship. Some. Not all. No babies or rings or any of that kind of talk, but… you know, someone to dream with. This is huge for me. I don’t want to have to edit myself. And I found myself doing that a lot in the last go-around, not wanting to rock the boat. Well… yeah, that didn’t last. See above, I like to throw myself into situations and rocking the boat, even if it means I come with copious injuries.

So a week and a half later, after our first fight (!!! – this is also HUGE people, I’m Italian, I need to fight, so one of my worries was that he was too nice and wouldn’t fight. He does. I threw things. He calmly explained his point. I ranted. He listened. And then we got to make up. *grin)  Annnnyways, turns out he ordered the flowers on Thursday. Its mid-day Tuesday and I’m still waiting. Recap of our convo below.

me: so pumpkin pookie snookums.NiceGuy: Don’t ever call me that me: =Dsnookums is so fun to type tho Hey, anyways, you said you ordered the flowers last thursday (and whats up with me only being able to type flowers as flwoers?), still nothing. Just wanted to let you knowNice Guy: You’ll get them on saturday [ed. note: he thinks he is being funny, as he knows I'm out of town this weekend - he is the one driving me to/from the airport]
me: *crickets
NiceGuy: I think I can track the order…me: its just, there is another building with a wicked similar address, and I wanted to check because: I, a- want the flowers and, b- got kinda worried that maybe they’ve just been delivered wrong? or just poofedNiceGuy: They haven’t been delivered yet so there’s a chance you’ll actually get them!What’s your name again? Hopefully I got it rightme: jackass.its Amber. duhwhere did you order flowers from? Siberia?!NiceGuy: AntarcticaVery rare flowers! You’ll have to keep them in the freezerme: was there an estimated delivery date? do i get to enjoy them before i leave for [redacted]? =Pi know you wanted surprise and all.NiceGuy: Yes. Yes[10 minutes later]NiceGuy: That’s weird. Someone sent me flowers. They were just delivered… me: i hate you so much.NiceGuy: They’re from me! I’m so sweetme: evil evil evilNiceGuy: You should get them today. UPS. Hopefully they aren’t mangledLast time I use 1800flowersme: yeah. just do a local florist NEXT TIME buddy<3 *mwah

Reminder men: always use a LOCAL florist when you’re trying to get the girl back.

All the while I was dreaming of revelry

Am not feeling like typing anything I said I was going to. So. Moving on.

Lollapalooza.

I went this year, first year. And it was totally worth it. Having now been to Rothbury / Bonnaroo / Lollapalooza, I have to say Bonn is at the bottom. They will have to have an AMAZING line up for me to go next year – I’d rather toss my money to the hippie fest at Roth and then go rock out at Lolla.

Even with the weather starting as cold / rainy / uninspiring – I saw some fabulous shows and made some awesome new friends. Though I will say that I often felt like the odd one out. Which is impressive given that I was staying with Carrots (as in she is Carrots and I’m Peas – we go together!). It was a mini reunion of sorts for her friends she studied with in London. All 3 of them live in Chicago or NY, and then there is me – semi-big city in MidWest. Not famous by any means, but not horrible either. Its cheap to live here, I can afford to go out drinking and have a car and indulge my shoe fetish when I wish. But I definitely felt… which one of these is not like the other.

So I did what I do, which is to say – I made friends whenever I could. Talked with strangers in line, on the L, on the bus, at the festival. And I shared what I could – sunscreen, water, shade. Its what you do. And that is part of what makes me who I am. Even though I definitely felt… well not looked down on, but they thought it was “cute” that I did that. Whatever, I find comfort in talking with strangers, identifying, even if just for a moment that you shared an experience with them. Be it a smashedclose L ride or an amazing concert.

So Fri/Sat/Sun all became a blur – a fantastic blur filled with some of the  people I love best in the world and some seriously great new music that I was so excited to see live and so close.

hows I saw (so I can remember):

Friday: Bon Iver / Ben Folds / Fleet Foxes (!) / The Decemberists / Kings of Leon

Saturday: Gomez / Arctic Monkeys / Santigold / TV on the Radio / Ben Harper / Yeah Yeah Yeahs / Bassnectar

Sunday: Back Door Slam / Bat for Lashes / Portugal. The Man / Kaiser Chiefs / Vampire Weekend / Passion Pit / Cold War Kids / Snoop Dogg / Silversun Pickups / The Killers

It was exhausting and exhilarating and every time I sit down to write about these type of weekends, words fail me. Rothbury was probably one of the most profound instances I’ve ever had – just the combination of the company and the music and general fantasticness was great.

Lolla wasn’t quite there – but the music (and the ability to take showers every night and sleep in a real bed) was beyond amazing.

I took the bus home on Monday, sun-dazed and music-soaked. And back to the real world. I will say that these festivals reminded me of passion and creating and oh how I needed that wake up call.

in love with a dream

They say before you can truly fall in love you have to have had at least two relationships.

One where you get your heart broken. And another where you break someone’s heart.

Now, I have several things to break down within that idea. What if you get your heart broken and also break someone’s heart at the same time. Cuz I’ve done that.

I’m sure I’ve bruised someone’s heart since and I know I’ve had mine bruised back. But as far as broken? There really was only the one. Its possible I just haven’t let anyone get that close since (possible, hell, I know its true). And the one I wanted to let that close showed little to no interest in scaling those walls and seeing whats behind. At least, not in the way I was used to seeing.

So that has left me here. 26 and with one great heartbreak. One great love.

Not saying I want to go back to that. I look back at that relationship and think, yeesh. We were over the top, absurd and insane about each other. To the point of exclusion of almost everything else (including my studies, whoops!). And it was glorious, while it lasted.

“And I loved him, Jesus how I loved him. It wasn’t love of course, even I can see now that it was infatuation, but at the time it near enough killed me. Its so passionate, so intense, so painful, that even years afterward you still feel the hurt when you hear their name.” – Jane Green, Straight Talking

After TheEx I went back to my old ways, dating around, finding guys who fit the niche that I need them (my sports guys / arty film guys / casual Saturday guys), until NiceGuy – we were just always hanging out together, even if he didn’t do my music or my artier stuff, we spent most time together. It was kind of natural that we fell the way we did.

Also natural that we fell apart the way we did. Its still hard. Its by no means as hard as TheEx – I couldn’t even bear to look at his picture / emails / blog / etc for over a year after he and I ended. NiceGuy, we’re doing the friends thing, or at least trying… Sometimes with his hair all mussed and still sleepy… it kills me to not lean over and plant one on him. Or nestle myself right into that crook where I know I’ll fit just so.

I really need to step up my game on this. I’ve already got a long list of more to post – and haven’t even finished my last list.

heartbreak warfare

You should never have to convince someone to like you. But when you do – in hindsight, the ending seems rather obvious.

However, to tell the ending, we have to start at the beginning.

NiceGuy and I were friends first, for about a year and a half. I never really went there with him, thought I always thought he was cute – mostly because he was so Nice. I don’t really do nice. I like the heartbreak and the angst and the passion. And then the group got smaller – and he and I consistently seemed thrown together, and then came the night where he suggested I crash in his bed instead of on the couch.

Oh, huh, that seems fairly obvious. Guy invites Girl to sleep In his bed. And from there? We slept. For three months.  And nothing else. Ever. Good conversations (and by conversations I mean I would ask questions and pry answers out, occasionally actually getting one), and late evening, intimacy was there, and I began to fall. Hard. He was so Nice and everything was always so comfortable with him. I would wake up, hungover, hair like poof, makeup smeared and the conversations would continue – over brunch or on the couch together.

But then we kept adding alcohol. Eventually the right combination of alcohol and sleep deprivation and sexual tension made us snap. I snapped first – in the hallway to the bathroom at a dive bar. We didn’t speak of it. Then he snapped, while wasted on his birthday. And after that we fell into a … something. Every weekend we were at his place or my place, during the week, general texts back and forth. Until – I realized he wasn’t in it. Just going through the motions. So I cut it off.

Then in December he started coming around again – all actions were on him. He was actually making plans and reaching out to see me. I figured it would be different, despite him telling me on NYE he wasn’t interested in a relationship. All his actions were saying different. We were inseparable for 4 days over the holidays, even after his admission.

So we kept doing what we do – every weekend, many weeknights, and gradually just fell into a routine. It was still comfortable, nice, better than the first time around. I started to let myself fall. We had been ‘together’ for a year and half – his response when asked at a wedding by my friends. I wasn’t even aware that we were considering us together. I would catch him referencing him and I as an ‘us’, ‘our’ plans, etc. And it gave me a warm glow, I liked how NiceGuy and I were becoming linked – NiceGuy and Disarming. Even our names sounded good together. There was starting to be some pressure from friends – having seen how happy we were together – wanting to know plans. I don’t really do commitment, so I danced around them – and NiceGuy always deferred to me on those questions. He excels at the non-answer answer.

And then, with the advent of this summer, I felt NiceGuy start to pull away. Not so much it was obvious – but he was less engaged, more willing to break plans and not hanging out as much.  I have admitted to myself I’ll always love the guy – he is a nice guy at the heart of it. But I couldn’t be in love with someone who wouldn’t let me. And the move into my new apt was something that made me reevaluate … well everything.

And so, one Friday evening, after his poker game – we had The Talk. Sprinkled with “I never meant to hurt you”s and “we’ll still be friends”, we called it quits. A quiet breakup. One that left my heart more bruised than broken.

I didn’t cry that weekend. Actually until this past Saturday I hadn’t cried about it at all. I’m not sure if that was because I didn’t care enough to cry or I just thought it wasn’t the end. I’m trying, oh so very hard, to stick to the break up this time around. Probably part of the reason I’m writing this all down. Written word always seems to reverberate harder with me.

No more reaching over to smooth down the cowlick, no flirtatious glances across the table, and no handholding as we drive to the bars. No more cuddling on the loveseat and watching bad 80s movies I should have seen the first time around but missed because “I wasn’t born yet”. No more texts when I am just thinking about him, or giving him crap for playing too much xbox and being antisocial.

I’ve had both kinds of breakups. TheEx and I’s breakup was so shattering he actually had to call the landlord to get me to leave his apt (in my defense there were pictures I wanted off his laptop before I left…), that one took me a solid month to think of him without an actual pain in my heart. And then at least a year to actually get over him. And I can freely say there are still parts of my heart locked away from others. TheEx was the only one to get that close.

NiceGuy – we had a quiet break up. Not unlike our relationship. Quiet and controlled, no hysterics, just general sadness at the ending of … not quite a something, but a possibility of something great. The breakup, like our relationship, was rather bloodless.

Two kinds of love – two kinds of heartbreak. Having now had both, I’m not quite sure which was more devastating.

I do hope in this aftermath that NiceGuy and I can remain friends – its important to our entire group dynamic. But I also know that when we’re out at the bar, sometimes our eyes catch – lately I’m always the one looking away first.

the wanting comes in waves

So. Summer Oh-Nine. Seems as good a time as any to give this whole blogging thing a go. Again. I think this is like my fourth start. Probably another false one, but hope springing eternal and all that. I feel like I always try to start these in the summer months.. wonder what that means.

Hopefully, this is different, a lot more like when I started the original, the legend. I want to write more, to stay in the habit – so I can look back at these days and remember. And so can others (perchance with careful editing).

I’m alone now.
I have my own apartment.
Very. Own. Apartment.

Its something I was never sure I would do, but always knew I wanted to. And when my relationship with NiceGuy was going so well and my relationship with GuyRoommate deteriorating, well, the new apartment came about rather quickly.

Granted it is me, so even quickly there were file folders and notes and copies of floor plans and visits. But we found it, and like all my big life decisions I knew when I walked in. It was more than I had wanted to spend / budgeted for – but was cheap enough I could budget for it.

So without further ado, I let GuyRoommate know I was moving out and managed to cajole all my boys into helping me move (damn sprained ankle). We got everything done in a weekend. Granted the unpacking took a little longer (and by took a little longer I mean still going on).

And I’m not quite settled yet. Not sure I ever will fully be.  The best part about it all? Also known as the most overwhelming part of it all – is that it is all mine. No one else to shuck blame onto, no one else to tell me not to paint something. All mine to have and to fuck up.

So NiceGuy. That probably deserves another entire post. Let’s see what else to catch you up on.
-         Nice Guy
-         Driving Debacle
-         MusicalTheater’s latest exploits
-         My Life List (I wanna be like Maggie when I grow up)
-         Parentals Visit
-         Bonnaroooooo
-         Canoe Trip

Long story to come – NiceGuy and I broke up. Again. But I think for good this time. Given that what I’ll need for a Round III from him includes a trench coat, boom box, and potentially some fake rain outside my bedroom window… and I know him – so that will never happen.

However, since the break up there has been contact by at least three ex-boyfriends to me. WTF, I no longer have myspace and I *never check my facebook profile, did an email alert go out? Is there a blog about my dating life that I’m just not checking? Cuz seriously, I could use some dish about some peoples.

Anyways, without fail, contact by these people never fails raise emotions and questions and… and.

I’m alone now.

The Fall

It was all at once.
He was everything I wanted
appearing in black and white
I was a firefly with premature wings.
no visible scars.
Proud.
We drank bottles of wine and I let him tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
He looked at me, sipped, and I swallowed.
He wanted me in color.
I wanted things he couldn’t give me
I decided to see how long I could pretend it didn’t matter.
He told me I glowed and ran two fingers along the ridge of my spine.
I held my breath and he named freckles on my back that I’d never seen.
He thought I was beautiful and held my face still to tell me so.
I squirmed.
It was easier not to believe him.
He was
40 minutes
Late.
A handsome stranger bought me vodka cranberries
Black high heels dangling from a bar stool
I waited
40 minutes too long.
I dressed in ruby slippers and chased tornados.
He spoke another language and
I asked him to use it when he touched me.
I saw him enter my room as a thief
He wore the shirt I picked out for him and I felt invaded.
I set out books he did not bother to read
I threw him out of my bed and bought him coffee the next morning.
He refused to lie
I refused to negotiate when I was naked.
In the end when he left, I saw he’d taken nothing more than what I’d given him
The loss was spectacular.

comfort in the oddest forms

After over $300 in repairs – my laptop is back up and running… albeit without several programs I used to have. I guess I’ll go the wait and see route. This is the third time I’ve had to do this – replace the hard drive (tho this time I did it on my own as the warranty has expired). stupid hp. And yes, I do continue doing this. Thank god for external hard drives and back ups.

Anyways, I’ve stopped writing this blog on my work computer, because, well, you get fired for that. And my desktop downstairs is rather communal… and I haven’t *quite decided to go public yet. This is more for myself. Which you would think would mean I would write more, and yet..

Lately I’ve been dealing with relationships. And failure. Two things I struggle with.

A very good friend and I have parted ways and as much as I try to examine the why.. I keep coming up blank. All I can do is know that I tried. Not as hard as I could have, because well, I had reached my end point. I was done putting everything in time and time again – this was it. I don’t know if she realized that, or if she ever will. I hope, one day, she figures out what she needs. Not just what she wants.

Another good friend has caused me to lose a lot of respect for her. I am coming to terms with the fact that I have very high expectations of people. Expectations that I know I myself don’t always meet. Cheating, for those who know me, is something that I don’t tolerate well. Even if I am not involved in the relationship – because once upon a time I was. And I know the carnage that can come from that. She has stayed with her man despite his infidelities, yet, as they get closer to a milestone in their relationship, she is the one who strays. I look, and I want to tell him. I know its not my place, but it just reminds me of how I felt when I did find out – I wondered who knew, who would keep something like that from me… I know that it is just a physical manifestation of her unhappiness, but why does she keep putting herself in that position. Just escape.

Escape. If only it were that easy. TheEx and I did something very stupid over the 4th. We met up. Admittedly there was a free concert nearby, an artist both of us adore – one that sang “our song”. But meet up we did, and it only caused conflicting emotions for me. For him – I’m not sure. I do know that while two weeks before we met up he was trying to reopen our conversation line, and now… now, hes leaving it up to me. And I’m not sure what to make of it. I think I’m happier when he is nowhere in my life. But not as happy as when he was In my life. I can’t do the friend thing, I will always want more. He was my best friend for so long, we connected so strongly – it seems… disrespectful to try to pretend we’re just buddies.
We aren’t.
We never will be.
He has offered to move, when I get transferred (something I’m hoping to have happen in the next year, and is a subject for another post). He has said he will go with me. He said as much when I talked about grad school, last year, when he and I were still doing the “talking”, but not dating stage. Maybe my best move is to cut ties. Clean break, like with the first friend. But how does one walk away from someone who holds your heart? I’ve already lost part of mine to her this summer; can I afford to let him take more?
I’m afraid I already have.

I wish I could stop seeing relationships that end like this as failure. Intellectually I know its not that, its merely one person moving on, probably doing something great for themselves. Lately, I have found my comfort in writing. (The personal diary, not here) In my cat. And in random people I work with.
There are times when it is easy to get so bogged down in how you think people view you, you forget of other viewpoints.

The hardest thing about living here is that my parents, my rocks, my tie to myself, live so far away. I often lose myself. I did that a lot last year, and I didn’t like who I turned out to be.
24 – I’m going to be selfish. I’m going to do what I want, what is best for me, what I need to do.

That may be letting her go. Letting that be our last words, and letting the memories fade.
It may be writing one last letter, so I can say my piece and feel that I truly have done everything.
That may be allowing a friend to make her own mistakes and remain her rock.
It may be telling a friend I think her behavior is shameful and that there has to be more behind it than several beers and lowered inhibitions.
That may be showing up on his doorstep and demanding…
It may be cutting him out.
Once again, for good.

graduation

Everyone has that one guy. The one that you will always remember. Not necessarily your first crush, but definitely… something.

My first crush was Shea Stamp. I remember his last name only because “stamp” was one of our spelling words in first grade. And I already knew how to spell it.

Between first grade and freshmen year, there were several crushes.

But I didn’t have too many, I was a tomboy and boys were for playing tag, war, hide & seek, or Nintendo.

But every once in awhile, one would sneak in.

Then I made one last move. Started a new school (again). The bus stop was on the opposite side of the block and I knew no one there. The neighborhood kids all played so well together, had known each other for years.

And then there was me.

My first experience with him, he locked me out on his roof. I had been hanging around with the other kids for a week or so, they all liked me. We got along great, a regular bunch of misfits as kids that age generally are.

And he locked me on his roof.

In retaliation, I threw a can of pop at him. From the roof. It landed at his feet and exploded all over.

Then I climbed down fireplace, went inside and let everyone else in.

It was always explosive with him. Time went on, and I harbored my crush secretly, oh so secretly – rarely even telling friends. He collected hearts like it was his job, I didn’t want to be know as “one of those who liked him”.

My best friend at the time had a crush on him.

My best neighborhood friend dated him.

I never said I wanted him.

I was the good girl, I didn’t talk back (at least to teachers), I never snuck out (that my parents knew), I never went beyond second base (until Keith my senior year). I made excellent grades, I said please and thank you. I was the girl next door.

I never knew that he had felt the same pull.

He was the bad boy, too outrageous for me in my mind; I was too tame, too unoriginal.

I was the good girl; mostly pleasant, “perfect” was a word he would later use. He was messed up, dealing with family issues and alcohol.

Then there were the nights he would inspire me to sneak out, just to wander the neighborhood in the dark and talk. Just talk.

There were the days he would crack jokes about himself, to take attention off others.

We brought out the opposite sides in each other.

I thought he was too wild.

He thought I was above him.

Until this past New Years, when I was above him, I never knew any of this.

He told me as we lay in bed, that he used to dream about my “dancer’s legs”.

I never even realized he knew I danced.

one drink to remember, then another to forget…

I forget about this sometimes. I don’t mean to, I have the best intentions when it comes to writing.

But sometimes, at night, its easier to pull my written journal out of my inner pocket of my purse, and hand scribble. Its easier when I cry, if its handwritten. The water on the page, blurring the ink, makes it more real. How do you translate that effect to the typed page?

Maybe as I get older I feel I have less to share, less to justify feeling. When I started blogging, sophomore in college. There were no boundaries – I shared my writing and my experiences with everyone from strangers to family to friends, to people I hadn’t seen in 5 years. Now I’m more reticent. I write anonymously, knowing, one day, I will get the courage to share. With everyone.

Until then. There is this.