This is a post about Aaron.

You have been warned.

It's hard to decide where to start on this one because Aaron goes way back in the journal but it's always the same cycle. I love him and then I hate him and then I try to work things out and then I love him again. I found a page from way back when before England where I had written about needing to sort things about with him hidden under some post-it notes. I am always trying to sort out our issues. Sigh.

Next is related to the day after we... were together or whatever. Anyway, all he said to me was "wow" in a text and then let me stew over it for weeks not knowing if it was a good wow or a bad one.
This led to a lot of introspection on my part where I wondered what I felt and what I thought and if I cared, etc, etc. Of course, I still had no idea what he was thinking.



The next one I wrote while he was having his threesome with Gabby Bishop and Alyssa. I was really hurt. Badly. Ugh. I still am.



I decided, like I always do after being there, to never come back. The next few pages celebrate that but at the same time I wrote down his contact information because, even though I deleted him from my phone, I knew it wouldn't last and I'd be back.


And then just as quickly, I realize that I love him again and go back to being crazy about him:


On this one I tried to draw how I feel for him on the bottom-ish right. Then I just wrote it.


Then, once again, I journaled whilst he was hooking up with someone that was not me. I was pretty goddamn drunk and even I can't read what I wrote. The gist of it was that it was okay because I know he loves me more than any of those whores. Oh, my drunk wisdom.


Then I got to thinkin' about how unhealthy our relationship is for me but still know that I can't give him up.


The next one I did while I was tripping which is why I was talking to trees and shit. Oh, man.

Lastly, I journaled while his band was playing at Uptown Bar and then again a little after I accidentally overheard him fucking Alyssa. Again. The second page will probably have more added to it but right now, it's pretty accurate for how I feel.


I don't know where I'm at right now with my feelings for him. I love him but it's really hard.

The Start is the Hardest Part.

I guess I consider myself to be a collector of journals. How could I not be? I still have journals I wrote when I was still learning to read (filled mostly with things like, "I learned how to spell Yugoslavia today. That's how it's spelled." and "Dad is really strict.") and I write in several journals to this day. I have my disease journal which hardly ever get updated and even when it is it's mostly, "Getting treatments every 6 weeks. Feel fine. No veins left. Mom still won't let me get a port. Blehhhh." Then there's my "art" journal which hasn't contained any art for several months. No photos, no poetry, no love. It's just there. Of course there's my main journal which is updated pretty frequently but censored to the point that sometimes I look back and wonder what the hell I was going on about. The past month of so of posts have been so extremely annoying to look back on, I almost want to delete them. Post after post of, "I hate my life." and then "Everything is so beautiful. I want to share it with you." It's restraining and uncomfortable. I've had that journal since I was 14 or 15 and sometimes I feel like it hasn't grown up with me and sometimes I feel like it's the only thing I've been able to keep.

Then there's this journal which will exist on it's own but also feature stuff from the physical journal I take everywhere. Jesse gave it to me for a Susanukkah present and I have used and abused the hell out of it. I was flipping and slipping through it this afternoon. The beginning is mostly poetry about the most mundane shit but I remember how I felt as I was writing it. There's photos as well as "tell so-and-so if I die..." stuff but I'm getting ahead of myself here.

I'm going to be selecting random things from my dearest journal, the physical representation of my soul over time, and posting it here. I find my biggest problem to be not knowing what I want and maybe by analyzing it here, I will. One can hope.

So, first thing? I painted in my journal for the first time last night. Faryn and I were smoking and she was making cards for her relatives and I was trying to figure what came next in the song I have been writing for the last eight years. Faryn finished and I decided to paint and for some reason, I decided to in my journal.

I am not a painter. I feel weird creating just about anything. I can't paint things, only patterns and shapes. If I know someone will see something I'm painting/drawing/whatever I get really uncomfortable and just fucking suck. However, since I was painting in my journal which I don't share with anyone, it was really freeing. I just painted what I felt and this is it:

It's not that great but I like it.