Life is hard. After all, it kills you. -Katherine Hepburn

'Life is to be lived. If you have to support yourself, you had bloody well better find some way that is going to be interesting. And you don't do that by sitting around."

Days like this make me remember how much I hate being here. I want to move on. I want to let go. I want everything that is just out of reach. I wish she was here to hold our hands and smile gently. An encouraging nod and some honest words exchanged. Then a little shove in the right direction. There are days I feel so lost, no direction or motivation. All honest conversations drowned out by the ridiculous movements of day to day. Small moments that become so much a part of my life. I miss the laughter that easily would come. I knew this would hurt and yes, it really does, but that doesn't make it any easier to accept. Im hurting. Plain and simple. I need someone to hold me and shake some sense into me. I need some help but no one really can, can they? I have to do this alone. Yes, some advice from my oh so worldly friends and family, but in reality, I'm on my own now, completely. I need to move on. I need to grow just a little more but I feel like a little girl in her mothers heels. I'm so scared, so tired. I'm not mad nor am I sad. Just apathetic and that is never much fun. I need some excitement or a distraction or just something to push me harder. I'm stuck.

I'm going to run. Run far, alone or not, I don't choose to care. Where? No where far. Maybe where the wild things are.

Why, hello there!

I am never really quite sure of myself. Confidence is not the issue. Fear of lacking in any way is. I'm too much for a lot of people and too little for even more. I figure, I dont want to change for anyone, but really how can I stay the same as I get older? Do I hold on to the principles I've held to my heart for so long while disregarding my instincts in only certain situations? I know I have changed, I feel it, but where am I going now? I already had a life changing event. I already felt enough emotions for 6 people at the age of 98. What now? It's a constant question racing through my head along with french conjugations and philosophical ramble. It hasn't been answered through any means implemented by me. It's just a matter of waiting and that is the hardest part of it all. I'm tired of being the odd one out of my family. I'm tired of trying to make friends with people I don't really want to be friends with. I'm tired of many things that are whiny and melodramatic. It's hard being alone in a room full of people. Don't worry. This is reflective, not suicidal, just in case your wondering. I'm not mad, sad or upset. Just stuck. Movement has become so slow and my tolerance for stupidity has just become a short fuse. Goodness, how do people find fun in a room that reeks of beer, liquor and puke, packed to the max with either really creepy guys or glaring girls or sometimes both? I did at one time, for about a semester but its old. Much to old for me to find any fun. I've found solace in the words of Claudette Colbert and the ladies of the old ways. My goals lately have involved trying to attain the classy attitude and confidence of the women from my grandmother's time. I never was a party girl, and I never will be the life of the party and thats quite alright with me. I guess it is just time to focus on getting things straight and helping others. No more self-pity, bad attitude or general crankiness.

A captured silence. A war within.

I know I don't pick them well. I know that there is an inherent beeper in my body telling me to go after the absolutely wrong guy. Its always the guy that is going to drive me to distraction until I completely go insane. However, I cannot get this one out of my head. Yes he was the guy that helped me in my quest to loose it. Yes he is going to jail for 49 days. And yes, I have absolutely no idea how he feels about me in any sense, however, due to my masochistic ways, I cant stop thinking about him. My brain and my body have been in constant battle for over a month and it is exhausting. I need to find a distraction to help me get over him but no one has been able to catch my eye. Not one guy can breech the walls I've erected. Only him and I have no idea why. I do know he thinks he's an asshole but I know he isn't. I do know that when I am with him, I feel warm and completely at ease. I don't want to feel this way with him. He is the last guy that I would ever pick to feel this way for but that is besides the point, right. How do I hang up the feelings that have become so a part of me. I'm not so dramatic that I don't think it can be done because I know it can. Then again, I thought that the feelings of so long ago had died when in fact, they are stronger and more dragging than ever. His very name on my caller i.d puts me into such a tizzy. I'm strung out on lack of love. I'm strung out on lack of sex. Pandora's box has been opened and there is no closing in sight. Maybe I should just give up and stop thinking about him completely. Cut out those particular memories and make new ones with some other guy that may or may not measure up to my standards that have kept stronger guys at bay. Lower my standards? Maybe. It hurts not being wanted. It hurts not knowing if you are or not. I want so much to sleep without seeing his face right before I fall. Can I please just move on?

Definitly not a Quest for Camelot.

Every step that I have taken has brought me to this moment in time. A lot has changed this summer. A lot of mistakes and a lot of hidden meanings. All the things that I do today are going to affect me tomorrow and the day after that and into the unknown future. Everything has a consequence, some bigger than others. Many would say that I am a dumb girl for the things I have done. I am not dumb, just growing up. I hit a big bump in my quest to loose it. The big bump is that I lost it. The ironic thing is that it was with the person I never thought it would actually be with. Of course I had hoped but never really thought it would be him. I am glad it was him. There are no strings and I trust him, which may show to be a detrimental thing one day but I'll worry about that another day. It happened almost like a movie, except there would be a different rating on this one than R and the ending was a bit unpredictable. I had fun and that is all a girl can ask for her first right? My close friends think that I should be reacting to this differently, that my feelings for him would grow deeper. In reality, he has changed from the mythical guy of my dreams to the real person he has become. We both have grown up and I think thats what made it so easy for me to come to grips with. We aren't meant to be for the rest of our days and that made it much more simpler and less heart wrenching. With my quest in its final stages, I am dealing with the consequences of my choices and so far they are not that bad. A few blushes, a couple giggles and a knowing sense that, finally, I can move on.

It isn't telling me anything, just making me more confused.

The room was fogged over. A dim light was illuminating the corner of the bar. Its attempt to show the occupants their misdeeds was ignored and shoved into the smallest area of the place. I was sitting in a chair that was at least 30 years old and must have been of a service to thousands of customers. I felt its power working over me as I listened to the cover band for Billie Holiday. The Billie was adding a twist to her predecessor's haunting melodys and I was disappointed but also elated to get a fake if not small taste of the 40's jazz era. I look older than I really am, sitting alone at a small table in a small bar in a big city. The notes from the band floated over me as I sat there, waiting for nothing to happen, waiting to go home and be comfortable again. I'm so uncomfortable as I sit there, being ogled by men, envied by women and so alone. The bar is just a mirage as I am transported to the room I so wish to occupy, a younger image of myself appears. Happy, smiling, thinking of all the things that had happened with her today. She didn't fall. She wasn't sad today. She was happy to see me as I skipped up to the house. Her smile made me smile and that was all I needed. She comes into my room, all smiles gone and tells me that we are going for a ride. My older self tries to scream "NO!" but I go because I wanted to make her happy again. I'm pulled away again, taken to a field of nothing. The sky above me is the clearest blue with no clouds. The landscape is dry as bone but strangely furtile. Activity is all around as long as you look beyond the barren land. The wind whispers around my shoulders, distrubing strands of hair and pushing me in a direction towards a mountain in the distance. I start the trek towards it but stop. A whisper in my ear makes me turn around to nothing. A voice that I cannot understand on the surface but once it soaks into my spirit, I know the truth. My heart turns to ice and cracks. My eyes refuse to give up the tears that so long to be released. My body goes numb. I push on towards the mountain, past the creatures that give encouragment without words. I wont be taken again until I reach the mountain. The mountain with no discernable distance.

A dream. It keeps repeating.

Twenty and sunny.

Its bittersweet turning 20. Now I can say, "Yes, I am in my early twenties." For some reason that always sounded so distinguished to me. However, its hard to celebrate when for so long I didn't want to be here for this day. I was so close to the end that this continuing chapter, this extension to my story is something I want to hold dear but I am not so sure how to. The most I can do is be thankful for the fact that I am here. I am happy I didn't give up. I think it would have been the cruelest thing to do due to the fact that my birth was normal. Why don't humans fight to stay alive anymore? In fact, it can be said they fight to kill, not to protect. Isn't that what war is, the extinguishing of the enemy by any means possible? The miracle of birth is now so underrated in society and taken for granted by those who "accidentally" pop out a few kids. The lucky happenstance of a human coming to life is one we don't think about day to day. "I was born". That is something I have taken for granted for my entire life. What else am I missing out on? My purpose may not be set, my heart may not be captured, my eyes may not be entirely open but I am slowly coming to realize that for some reason, I was born 20 years ago and that is something I should never ever forget. I am here for a purpose, one I may not know yet or have realized but it is there.
Also, as I turn these numbers, I am starting to hear the whispering "tick, tock, tick, tock". The biological clock has started ticking and its already driving me nutts similar to poor Captain Hook's obssesion with the swallowed timepiece. Babies have become adorable, the idea of marriage dosn't make me shiver, seeing couples together and in love dosn't make me want to close my eyes and send a prayer of thanks up to the gods. Many don't beleive me that I have done a complete 180 in my thinking about the future, so I just don't tell them. It will be a surprise to them and to me what comes next and I am pretty sure that is how it is supposed to be.

Her Dream

The icy fingers of the wind were pulling her along towards the edge. Their strength grew as she struggled and pulled to stay on firm ground. With the grasping wind whipping around her ankles, she had no hope to break free until she got to the very edge of the cliff. Peering over the rocks, she saw a group of people waiting at the edge of the shore, beckoning her to join them. Her heart stopped as she recognized one of them. Her mother. Tears threatened to break as she tried to remember her true form, not the one she was seeing right now. Gone were the kind blue eyes and warm smile. Gone the tight embrace and soft spoken words. In its place was a closed woman of strange proportions. Hunched over and a terror of unspoken lengths, the woman was trying to get her to jump over the cliff that loomed before her. The tears pooled in her eyes and spilled like tiny buds on a blooming tree. Fearing the worst, she attempted to break the hold of the wind but couldn't move even one muscle, stuck in a limbo of time and fear. A rock slipped under her left foot and she stumbled onto her knees, staring at the woman she knew was her mother. Her heart pounded as she willed her mind to remember her devoid of the haze of disappointment, anger and regret. More tears fell as she glanced at the ground beneath her. The top of the cliff was covered in grasses and sprinkled with daffodils and she was staring straight into the center of a crushed bloom. Its petals strewn across the landscape, it silently mourned its passing and asked her why things happened this way. She paused and said "Because it has too. We all die. We all are moving on a wisp of wind that takes us wherever we must go and we have to let it. Fighting the push and pull of the wind will only make us more angry and disappointed in the things we don't let happen. Courage is the foundation on which we must move on." With that statement now floating on her path, she finally understood that the wind would mover her whether she tried to fight it or not. Letting go of her inhibitions, she jumped and fell.

Introduction to the Beast

She awoke to the quiet fall of snow on the already covered mountain. Her eyes slowly opened to reveal multiple pairs staring straight into her own. Tentatively sitting up, she asked him what everyone was staring at and he responded "You were dreaming out loud. Its something we never do and have never seen done before. You spoke of a world of heat and sand, great large animals moving across an enormous stretch of land. Where are you from?" The question itself instilled fear within her heart and a great sadness overcame her features, "I have no idea where I am from. That must have been my imagination, because I don't even know what sand looks like and I cannot remember for the life of me the feeling of heat on my skin." This made the group pause and shift at the same time. A tremor of curiosity accelerated through them and unspoken questions were flitting through their minds as they pondered the girl they had rescued. A few moments later, the assumed leader pulled her up and stared straight into her eyes, as if trying to read her soul. Fortunately, what he saw was appeasing and he released her and started to clean up the camp from the night before. They had been walking up the mountains for eight days now and she had no idea where they were headed. Her friend kept by her side and at any turn of trouble, he pushed her behind him and continued on. Their friendship had evolved to the point of comfortable silence and peace with each other. Although only a short time had passed and only one name was known between the two of them, their souls had been entwined from the beginning of time and had finally been merged. He called her "his little lontala" which he never explained the meaning.
The further they pressed into the mountains, the more her mind fogged over. Starting over from the age she supposed was 20 was more difficult than she had thought. Her whole life had been erased either on purpose or accident and she had no idea the occurance but she did remember one thing, piercing blue eyes filled with tears and a great unyeilding saddness. Those eyes haunted her and when she went to sleep, she tried to remember but nothing ever made sense within her dreams. There was always something trailing behind her, a great beast that never made it known that it was with her but was always there. Even during the day, she felt its prescense. Always following her, the great beast was the one constant in her life; a shadow that wasn't necissarily dark or ominous but at the same time a haunting reminder of her indistinct dreams. Where was the path she was following? Turning to her friend, she moved closer to his side and grasped his hand, the one place she felt safe and assured. The beast was still there, always watching and in a strange show, protecting her. They trugdged on through the mountains to the place of unknown qualities and small wings of hope began to flutter within her.

Pride mixed in with a stubborn twist.

I want a man in my life, but it seems no one is up for the job. Am I too intimidating for the ones of the opposite sex, who are supposed to be in my range? Do I laugh to loud, express my opinion too much, make stupid comments left and right? Yes, but shouldn't some one find that appealing? I promised myself a long time ago to never change for someone, and so far, I have kept to that bargain but damn does it get annoying. I want someone to want me. I need someone to need me. Can anybody find me someone to love? I guess, I have been listening to my itunes too much. I'm just bummed that this guy isn't interested in me. I mean I am but that dosn't mean he is. And I do have some pride when it comes to things like this so I am not going to be calling him every three days to see if maybe he would want to hang out. Also, I have a suspicious feeling he is avoiding me, which adds insult to injury but whatever. There are more fish in the sea, other mountains to climb (if you know what I mean) and all those other analogies that are supposed to make girls feel better but actually make them more aware of the fact that he is just not into you. Bummer man.

Our Star.

Around the star we dance.
Her brilliance is blinding.
Her beauty, everlasting.
Her core a part of us all.

Around the star we sing.
The sound hauntingly familiar.
Several different tunes, merged into one.
Multiple hearts of the same dust.

Around the star we smile.
Remember stories of old.
Love memories of hope and faith.
Turning to the future with courage.

She dances with us.
She sings along.
She smiles forever.
As we move, gently on.
Keeping her in our earthly hearts.

The imaginary backspace.

If it was a quill and parchment, there would be splotches and stains. Nothing permanently written, just scribbles of a confused mind and an even more confused topic. My first scientific research paper is obviously not going as well as I had hoped. What would the ancients have done? Paper was scarce and so was the ability to write. Did they make as many mistakes as I do now? When they found their ideas so jumbled did they continuously crumple up their work and start afresh? I would have killed about 70 trees by now if I was a philosopher trying to state my views of the revolving earth. Why does my generation make so many mistakes in life? Is it the fact that we have backspace buttons on our computer that we believe it will translate to reality? Do we think that if we fail a test, we can hit an imaginary "easy" button and start anew? If so, I fear for our future. Earlier this week, after a comeback to golf with my dad, he made a good point about our generation and the mistakes we make so often. His generation used typewriters, not Microsoft Word. Typewriters are as unforgiving as Medusa's stone turning stare. Even as I write this procrastination blog I am able to fix the mistakes I make in my typing. I notice that as I type, I go faster and catch the things I misspelled and if I don't, a thin red line appears to tell me "hey, come back, your spelling sucks." Does this mean I am a constant mistake maker in real life; that I beleive in the power of the imaginary backspace? Dont get me wrong. I am eternally greatful to the producers of the allmighty computer and the almost black hole like figure of the internet; however, I am also left in fear of what is becoming of my view on my own generation.
Letting go of things has never been easy for me, especially mistakes. Always being hard on myself, I turn the smallest hiccup into a huge disaster and before I know it, I am swimming in tears. Although I have learned that this practice is a waste of time and completely irrational, I feel as though letting go of my problems and giving them to a higher power is just like the imaginary backspace. All my problems will dissolve if I just let go. All will be well. Well if thats the case, higher power, can you please write my 12 page paper on oral traditions in archaeological sites by Tuesday? K, Thanks. I know this is cynicism and of course I will get it done. I have this inate knowledge that tells me everytime, I will get it done. No matter what. However, I also have this inate feeling of panic the moment the paper comes into conversation. The moment it rears its ugly and somewhat odd topic head, I tense up and get lightheaded. This is a paper of odd circumstance due to the fact that I chose the topic (Oh that is something I beleive that has to do with my odd self punishment issues) and the fact that its from a perspective of science which is not my forte. Its a mixture I beleive of love and hate. I wait for the last minute because I cannot wait to feel the excitment of preasure on my neck. The writing gods breathing on my neck, whispering words of encouragment and sticking an I.V of caffine into my veins on the night before it is due. Ah, the great world of college. This is what it comes down to. The idea that my generation is one of mistakes and imaginary backspace bars is true; however, we are also a generation of more hope and more ability to let it go. Give it up and know that you are smart. You have the brains, use them. More encouraging, at least that is what I think. Good grief. I could have finished my paper by now.

A question asked, but was it answered?

Im pretty sure it is the waiting that makes me this way. I, Audrey Tremblay, asked out a boy in one of the most awkward ways imaginable. Its understandable I'm sure, coming from me that it was odd and most embarrassing but I am not sure what to think. Theses excited giddy feelings turn into this feeling of girlish anxiety. Is he really going to go out with me on this strange coffee date. He must have been shocked to his toes by my approach. We didn't even talk that much before but for some strange reason he really intrigues me.... which of course my mouth told him before my brain could stop it. He has a good head on his shoulders, hes funny and hes actually kinda cute. When that combination is wrapped in a 6'4 blond built body, I guess there is nothing else I could have done but ask him out. However, I am not the usual asking out girl. Usually I wait until it becomes the awkard friend stage and then we get stuck in the "are we friends or should we make it a bigger deal?" mantalitly. Sometimes I am able to talk myself out of my feelings for guys, which I guess means they didn't hold the greatest appeal to me in the first place but him, I couldn't stop thinking about. There was some tension (not necissarilly bad but this odd comfort) whenever we were in an elevator together or passed in the library. By the way he works in the library... major points with a nerd like me. All my friends are quite astonished that I asked him out. Seeing as it is out of character. However, some were a wee bit furious. One just thinks he is the biggest ass because she is dating his best friend and he dosnt like her... which means nothing to me because this friend of mine is one I really dont get along with in the first place. So maybe he gets extra points for disliking some of the same people.. maybe. Its nice being interested in someone that is actually attainable again. For the past few years, I think I have been setting my sights on unattainable guys who I knew would never be mine. That way, I could never get close to being hurt. I am not looking to get hurt but I am ready, I think, to put my heart up to that chance. I think that is what spurred me on to his friends door to ask him out in the strange way that I did. I hope it works out. If not, I will move on to the next thing on my fate inspired list that I have no idea what is next. Odd.

Suprisingly.

Its odd. I feel good. I have so much to do but I know it will get done, so no stress. Smiling is coming easier, breathing free. I actually want to ask a guy out instead of waiting for it. I am handling all of the creeper boys in a kind fashion. I am trying to be nice to the people who get on my back most of the time. I find that listening to Nina or Billy help when I am stressed or if I am angry to listen to some outlandish pop. Reading always helps me. I just discovered a new book and it is fascinating. Exciting. This blog has no delving into my inner sole. Sorry. I just wanted to say it actually feels good right now.

The foundling

She had a small smile. It didn't reach her eyes and she didn't take the offered hand of help. Afraid of the ones who had found her on the mountain, she took small steps in the wake of the group. The tribe didn't treat her with discourtesy or with awe. They treated her with compassion and curiosity. She followed them deeper into the mountains until she tired and they stopped. The wind whipped her long strands of chocolate hair coated with specks of snow. It was a cold winter and she was trying to remember why she was left on the mountain instead of going home with her mother. A lot of tears and a face of stone was all she could remember before she woke up from her memories. Her name was lost to all. A name given to her by those who had left her. She tried to think of a name that would fit her life, but her life was gone. All memories were lost. So, nameless, she trudged on with the tribe. One of the group turned as she followed and slowed until they were even with her.
"Killante is my name. Whats yours?" his eyes were warm and open.
"In all honesty, I have no idea what my name is or who I am." Tears started to form in her eyes and she wiped them with the back of her cold hand.
"Well honesty is always good." A smile that spread across his entire face formed and gave the girl hope. She gave a small smile in return and they walked on in comfortable silence. A joke was something she appreciated. That she could remember.
A bond had been formed out of silence between the two travelers. When there was conversation, she would listen and calmly tell him her opinion. He would say only what needed to be said in order to get her mind off her past or lack there of. It was strange to find a friend in the darkest moments of your life. It happens so quickly and the darker you become, the more you need someone. She had no idea how long this friendship would last but she wanted it to be for as long as possible. When she slipped on a patch of ice on the path, he helped. When he got a look in his eye that meant trouble may be coming, she became nervous. Fast friends with a lot in their path trugged on through the mountains, into the darker yet beautiful peace of the trees.

(this is a part of a dream I had the other night and am thinking about elaborating on it)

A strange coincidence.

It has a strange quality. In a way, it makes me who I am supposed to be. A happy individual trying to survive college with as little scars as possible. But is this who I really am? Who I was 15 years ago? Its hard to decipher if I am being real or its the medication. Whatever it is, however, I will keep trying. I have to. And if its the tiny little pill that has me falling in love, then what the hell, people use harder drugs to get that same feeling than I do so, meh. Im not actually in love, its more of an infatuation that sounds like love. Oh but he is perfect. PERFECT! Around 6'2, brawny, dark hair, smart, a voice that sounds like whiskey being poured into a small tumbler filled with a few ice cubes. You think I'm joking and I wish I was but everytime he raises his long, muscular arm to answer a question (correctly if I may say) his voice just travels down my spine and feels like a warm breath was just realesed into my chest. His voice actually makes me shiver. Warm, tantalizingly dark, a little smokey yet filled with class. Heaven. I guess I actually have to talk to this paragon but I am so self concious around guys like that. Intimidated to the max, I am sure I would stumble my way into a conversation about lightbulbs or some other inanimate object. In short, I would probably sound crazy and I do that enough in my daily life that I really hate repeating my bad bad bad mistakes. Oh goodness.

everybody but me

take it.
take it with tea.
maybe some drama and flair.
just take it.

a constant failure.
a never ending fear.
a dream forgotten, never wanted.
someone else.

she gave up.
why cant i?
the water is so inviting.
right?

no purpose driven.
grasping at straws
and tiny leaves
laughing fools.

small canvas
large brush.
no paint
no muse.

i broke my heart
by crying too much.
wishing the water would take me.
instead i stay.

wishing for a home
that doesn't exist.
a dream
that so easily evaporates.

just take it.
its so small
it could help.
but it doesn't.

higher we go.
worry about it later.
il trip eventually.
over a rock or my own faults.

Painfull Breathing

Everytime I bring a thought from my past, something hinders it. I cant seem to break out of this shell that I built around me. Im so tired of trying. Whenever my dad says hes proud of me, its so hard to take because I dont think he has anything to be proud of. I feel like such a failure of my own expectations and those around me. I cant shake the hurt that I feel everytime I think of how I've fucked up my own life. My self centered ways and inability to love myself. I dont know when my laugh is fake or if I am really trying to get better. It hurtts so much, trying to work through the day and see how I react to certain things, why I want to cry everyday about irrelevent things. Even with this medication I feel like I am falling further into this hole that I dug myself. I want to make it stop but I dont know how. Im stuck.

Lyrical Connections

The mound is laughing at me. Taunting me and reminding me of all the mistakes I've made. Every regret is piled within my clothing and accessories, shoes and nick nacks. Maybe there is a pattern within my madness. The more upset I become, the more my room resembles a battleground from WW3. Cleaning the pile comes first. Then sorting out the regrets, weeding out the problems and at last doing some laundry. Unfortunately, life really makes that as difficult as it can, theory only being the first step. The regrets in my life only really surmount to one and that is loss of who I was because once that happens, it takes years to recapture that spirit. I feel empty without that spirit. Focusing on others makes me realize that I am a huge failure. Some battle cancer with a smile on their face, some battle others for their rights with vigor and passion. My passion only comes when I am defending friends. I want to be there for others whenever possible, but not as this half of someone. I am really afraid of seeing who I really am. Am I really this cynical on the true side of myself? So mad at the world for stealing my innocence in more ways than one. So hurt by the slightest pull. Although I am no debutante in high society, Bob Dylan does aptly describe how I am feeling on more than one occasion in my life. How cliche right?

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

I have pushed myself off of the pedestal that I had put myself on and now have no idea how to move on. Everyone thought I was alright. No one noticed that every joke pushed me harder to be perfect. Every time my mother made a mistake, it became my own. No one needs to notice me. I want to escape to a place where no one knows me. Thats a difficult journey that holds such a great appeal to me. Fuck it. Im sorry for my whining. IM TIRED! There. I'm done.

Very small yet so daunting.

It always starts with my heart beat. The tempo rises into an unbearable rhythem and it progresses onto tears and a gasp for air. The more I try to stop the beating and silent screams, the more frustrated I become. The pills on the counter silently laugh at me, tempting me to visit and discover a land with no feeling at all. The vicious cycle has been a continuous thing, pushing my mind into further recesses and giving me no hope at all. I'm on a second type of medication and I have no idea if it will help either. I know I am not alone and the more I try to focus on others and their lives, the more I feel as if I have no purpose here. Why am I here? What were the gods thinking as they assembled my parts and thoughts? I feel like a piano, constantly having my keys pushed in order to gain a different response. The composer must be deriving his work from a sledgehammer because every missed note hurts me even more. The more high strung I become, the more I drive those around me away. I want to be the one who is away. Being in England was a god send and also a difficult thing. Being away gave me hope, being without my medication gave me headaches and anxiety about my future. I didn't want to come back. Seriously contemplating fleeing the hotel as my sweet friends slept, I wanted to run and find work and be happy and new. However that is the simple definition of running away. It is what I want to do, if not England than Canada. Anywhere I can start fresh. Im not in a good place mentally and physically. Very tired, either from jet lag or the multiple missed doses. Its sad that I have no clue witch one.