so yes, here I am, in the third day of 2016, still writing old 2015 on the header of my journal entries, and with a resolution in tow, I tote around my pocket moleskine re-gifted from my dad, who told me he, "would!" use it last year, and alas now it's filled with purple and black ink and in my handwriting. I have a tendency to hate to review, it seems like a forced nostalgia of sorts, that always leaves me regretting, wishing for more, all the other self-pitying traits that storm together mid-Janaury when resolutions aren't going as planned.
however, I got some not-so-wanted (bad) news today, and I have this draft of a thing sitting in my email from a month ago, and I feel like my horoscope was just looking out for me when urging me to reflect and get into a good headspace, and realize that for me the new year starts in September, which wasn't fun to hear, but I hope that all of '16 is bearing fruits for me.
january is (always) and was a blur, I can remember avoiding a holiday party with some friends I parted ways from after switching to public school half-way through the year of my last year of high school. And oh boy the hiatus from Sophie, and my parents telling me I got into trouble around her--we all have those friends who are parents think are hurting us, but who are actually supportive of some kind of coming of age--but it was necessary for me to keep independence, so we led each other around town, skipped school a few times, while my grades were just about to plummet and it looked like I might have to graduate in August, I decided nope, and buckled down to the online classes (my anxiety-free version of public school) and sort-of--dazed and confused--passed the finish. Or just was done with high school.
february I don't think counted for me in my body, because I was so focused on people tripping up for black history month. meaning I was trying so hard to catch any small crumb of prejudice that my best friend and I started getting into fights about racism, and everything on my tumblr was black lives matter. And I woke up with such an angry face, that sometimes my mom would catch and ask what I was frowning about. I feel like once I realized I'm such a small part, to something I'm not sure is whole, my voice, often quiet and distant for safety, felt mute, and strangely I felt ready to protest. As my dad recalls, "you got on your soapbox." lets just say dinner conversation was between my invisible fist-in-the-air friends and I, with my parents on the bleachers asking if they were selling any food at the game.
march. things started getting warmer. my emotions still felt cold. my doctor might have suggested around here I go back to php (this hospital program), she swaddled me with it, but I felt threatened and started lying about some happy side effects. truth was, I was skinnier, I had lost about 10 pounds on prozac, and felt really great, though still anxious, wanted klonopin, was afraid to ask for it. Then thought it was prozac's fault, my best friend said my metabolism must have been going up and that is why prozac might've been wearing off, I can say on zoloft right now, I miss prozac, it was different, but it's far too late for me to name the difference. friends were starting to think about senior projects, some over-the-top over-extravagant project I wrote lists about almost every day at the start of high school. ie start a band, make a movie, get famous. the whole fast and easy approach my dad's bookshelves are lined with, and I sink back down to ground level once he tells me he's never read any, once I realized I haven't and will not either.
april. my sister comes home for easter? or maybe before that? she graduated early. the overachiever. saving some of the 60K she costs. but she's definitely worth more, I mean she's funny, and a good person, just not to me. earlier in the year, in therapy, I'll try to dissect the negative voices I get, her face, her smirk, her voice will keep visiting me, showing up, ruining a session, i'll end with the loop of I hate myself and ride home in silence with my mom. but there was good with her at home, I felt like less of a stranger in my town, went out more "as a family," was writing less, and talking--quite loudly--so much more! more ears to listen to me! my dad always said I am the type of person who needs to get out a certain amount of words a day, I agree with him, I wish I was journaling those words last year, but I did make many attempts. a rainy day here. a thought or list there. a couple lines about the meal. a couple about her hair. a couple about the way I hate how my mom makes me feel, or how the house feels really. the house never being my house, or our house, just the. april was not as rainy as I'd hoped, it was quite cold, a bit of snow and ice, I almost tripped once in old town, and toward the end a white man yelled at me, or maybe that was in may, I'm putting it down so I don't have to end with it.
may. graduating kind of, the end of...and avoidance.
june-august: the big dispute, go to a kind of community college in the state of new york, an artsy school, called purchase, whose admissions I could tell didn't like me, not true until in december I receive a letter confirming this. or the other school, my friend tells me those kinds of white people go there. I feel sorry and angry for her saying that, but agree. not those people. because maybe I'm afraid someone will say i'm one of those people. and I don't see people in my shade, and I don't see anyone half or one quarter gay, later on tinder I realize there are a few, one that I actually want to talk to. later I see a photo of a person who makes me feel like vomiting but also gives me that light fullness after you eat a fresh but really yummy meal, they might be gay, may have been born a girl, I realize I want to be with them, I realize I am probably what they are too. I calmly fall asleep. Sophie leaves, I won't spare my memory the time to put our pieces together. The days we spent, we actually slowed them down, had conversations, ate at random times of the day, moved the way our bodies wanted, didn't let the clock or the shake of a fist crush us, or our path. I miss it being our, or I miss being our with Sophie. I haven't been our with a person, a friend, someone I love in a while. I assume that's why I don't want to reminisce, because it is keeping other ours away.
septembre. I ride the bus with my mom to therapy. then expend all my energy in public. write some sonnets here or there. get a piece published in rookie. one that makes me breathe heavily as if i'm running, one that hurts to post, one i'm supposed to get paid for but don't. I don't ask them about it, afraid my mom will find out what i've wrote, none were proud, I can't say I was, but I'm trying to be. It was, of course, a letter to myself, the things I like to write, so I'm treating my resolution for this year as such...can you guess what it is yet? Yes filling up a journal a month. anyways, I began community college later in the month, met someone I called a friend, had an interesting teacher, who gave us many articles to read, actually wrote and turned in essays on time. a small boost for getting A's and the teacher liking my work, although she mentioned it was a bit too "wordy." I took pride in the word, because that is my definition, in fact, wordy, I've been called it by almost every note-taker on the back of my essay since the last schooling I can remember, ugh middle school is now a blur. bussing was scary, and still is, I don't like each face being the same, I know, familiary is calming, and sometimes it is, but having stayed in the same seat, someone different could sit next to me, that's what I disliked. Sarah was so proud, and is, and asked me why I am not. She is my therapist, I don't mind it. I took a great mindfulness class, I also am distancing myself from the memory because it is so great, and I'm afraid to remember is to realize what I've lost. Seperation Anxiety. Stephen and Olivia and Meredith, they seemed sent to me from a light source. I can't find the words yet to describe it. But nice will do for now.
oct. I turn 19, at home, can't remember a thing except I had cookie cake, my mom thought I liked cream cheese frosting, she ended up eating most of it, taking it for lunch, I skipped school once or twice. I just wanted to be normal. In fact I just wanted to be writing.
nov. no recollection, thanksgiving without my sister may have stunted november's growth. my head doesn't like it, I rarely say the name of this month out loud, the leaves stopped being red and yellow, it makes me feel sick. It rained a few times, and I felt productive those days, but still my phone was broken, my blog was not being posted on too often, the words loser came out of my mouth, to no one in particular, unless I didn't move away from the mirror, after flushing the toilet.
december - christmas all things yellow and warm, and fuzzy. this month feels like dough. I remember feeling lots of want, for myself and others. I think that could be called empathy. I started making new years goals, my sister came home for a few, mocked and laughed at my whereabout when I tried to be proud. I wrote her a bully in my journal, but didn't finish it, yes I got it in October. I saw so many people doing and realized I could be too. I applied and didn't get in, as I just found out, but I'm not as worried about it as I thought, I'm actually okay, well inspired.
january--you've come again, I haven't felt happy about you since learning in grade school we got martin luther king day off, my dad had to lie when folks in my grandma's small town asked her about me and college, a relationship I'm not liking, very distant, opposite of co-dependant. haven't seen many friends, and currently in january the house smells of meatloaf, and sanjay gupta pronounced meats were carcinogens, on meet the press they are still talking about trump. he might have a barbie with his face on it soon. I hope not.
edit: and I sent lots of letters, still looking to receive some as well, these papers were peace, I hope to read them a few times over the course of this years. friends in places, in my house, their voices shouting over my bad one, I'm so grateful for this, for them!
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