sometimes.

i do not know what i am doing.
& it's quite scary.

i want to live out of an old vintage suitcase.

i also want a flatscreen tv to watch the second season of dexter on.

my internal conflict makes it difficult to sleep at night.

i miss finding something i was good at and being in love with it. or at least pretending.

choices.

i am worried i will make the wrong choice.

concerned about $. about time. about babies.
ah. babies. seeing those beautiful bumps all around me. tiny shoes at target with giraffes and umbrellas with blue dots. i hate you hormones.

i want a house and an office with a big L-shaped desk that i can put my mac on. i can spend the hours designing.

but for now, my glands need to stop hurting and my throat needs to stop feeling like sandpaper against my skin.

freedom.

there is something about freedom that is terrifying. i am not used to having the weight being lifted off my shoulders. what is this feeling? this feeling of waking up and not being panicked? knowing that i do not have to spend my life in a field i am not interested in? it's a release. it's freedom.

the world of design is terrifying. but it intrigues me. it's daunting, but in a way that makes me want to jump into it.

j. visited this weekend. we had fun, i laughed so hard that i cried at points. i miss that. even though we don't share secrets always, it's nice to have someone around that i can just be "me." i don't have to put on some mask or filter myself for the most part.

i am writing this entry in my bed, with gatsby laying on my back and huey snuggled up to my side. i love the way it feels to know that animals love you. i can't wait to be a mom someday.

(panic.)

Maybe it's just the right smell. Or seeing something that triggers a memory of the past. Whatever it is, it just sets the little anxious bomb off inside me. I cannot control it. It runs my body, taking control of every movement, every thought. I am no longer myself, but captive to this disease.

I cannot breathe. Why is it so warm in here?

Stomach cramping. Just my usual stomach problems, plus bathroom visits. Not that unusual. But tonight it sends me into panic fits.

I do not want to be alone. But I need to be alone. No one can help me through this. I need to know that I can be okay alone. I detest codependence.

I feel flashbacks of being 17 and laying on the bathroom floor all night, waking up with panic attacks, and going back to sleep. Feeling helpless.

If I had known when it went away that it was only going to be for 2 years, I would've enjoyed those two years a whole lot more. Instead, I spent most of the time trying to fit into a circle that was way too conservative, and the rest of the time waiting by the phone for the 3am phone call of him singing to me.

I would've worn more clothes. Gone out more. Drank more, slept less. Loved instead of waiting around for a rockstar to put aside his selfishness. Followed my dreams.

Now I am 22. But I've never felt so far from my age. I cannot do anything any other 22 year old does. I sit at home on Saturday nights and wait for him to get home. I don't go out, because my stomach hurts all the fucking time. I don't know anyone else. It's not even like I can go back to Chico anymore, because all those friends are gone. They've had babies, gotten married, or moved away (or all of the above)

Fuck this.