Friday, May 30, 2008


I googled 'the stages of grief' today...after spending the entire day in my underwear. I woke up at 8:30 and promptly went back to sleep until 10:30 and then i roamed around the house, cried, watched tv, cried, checked my email, cried, reset my preferences on my facebook, cried, and pretty much had a full day. I'm not quite sure if I'm in denial, anger, bargaining, depression, or acceptance...well...definitely not in acceptance stage. I got to the point today where I felt comfort feeling tears stream down the side of my was like someone gently caressing my cheek. someone with a thin, warm, wet touch.

I often wonder if there is something terribly wrong with me.

I then...despite my better judgement (i've said that often lately, have i not?) began to reread emails between him and me (he and i?)....and emails between me and diana, and between me and the general public...before he and i were an item. we talked candidly, intelligently, openly, and honestly. It was ridiculous. Ridiculous how we our conversations began...and how our connection looked in the end. I have always operated with the belief that most relationships are salvageable as long as both parties are willing to go back and revisit when and why they fell in love. It is so clear to me why that is...and it is so clear to me that we parted as completely different people. I came across in these emails as exactly how I've always wanted to come across to a, well read, funny, adventurous, confident. He came across...surely as he wanted, funny, charming, strong, totally interested. WHERE DID THAT GO?! MY GOD?! I suppose we fell victim to our circumstances...and I fell victim to my own insecurities....he possibly did too...but neither of us recognized that...well...I think I did...and I tried to talk about it a lot...cause I think girls do stuff like that. I just wanted help, I guess...I recognized the weakness in me and I wanted him to help me up...but he didn't...maybe i didn't recognize the weakness in him...or maybe i did, and the weakness in me was just too weak to do anything about it.

WHERE DID THAT GIRL GO? the girl that made a decision and ran with it. the girl that tumbled into dark holes and crawled back out...saw the world by herself...was ready for anything. I am a twisted ball of disillusion. The shitty shitty part is that I actually have to wait before I can get back to that...I have to deal with this rebuilding before I can get back to that...and THAT...will eventually come upon me without my even realizing it. Hell, I can't even rebuild right now I'm so damn miserable. Next time I fall in love, I hope it's with someone that doesn't ever let me forget that girl. I hope it's also with someone that is in it like I'm in it. To work. The fruit of our labor will be glorious.

I referred to that summer as the best summer of my life. the summer I met him. I was open to any and all possibilities. I was brave. I was a kid in a freakin' candy store...yeah...I got down about having a hard time meeting the right guy...but I still had a hell of a lot of fun. And I had this correspondence with this guy that I knew was totally into me...but I didn't have to make any decisions about it...I just got to enjoy knowing that this guy...that was so super cool was totally into me. It was slow enough for me to show him who I wanted him to see...but it wasn't slow enough for him to see who I was all and out...up and down...same for him. I eventually, as he did, found out things about him that I wasn't crazy about...things that irritated me...things that concerned least I was strong enough to keep loving him, if not strong enough to let go when it was time to let least I gave him what I promised...unconditional love. I don't know who comes out on top in this situation. I am still convinced that if he were really strong...he would want to go back WITH me and remember why we fell in love...and we could try to challenge each other to be the strong people we know we are. I just don't know who comes out on top in the reality of it all. No one? I mean...I can't even admit what he was able to admit, that he isn't ready. Because I would like to believe that I'm smart enough to not fall in love with a guy that isn't ready. because the guy that I saw that summer, in our correspondence, was totally ready...was looking for me, and I for him.

He told me he wanted things to be easy. I have given up on easy. I gave up on it a long time ago. Perhaps that puts me in the lead. The fact that I accept the reality of adulthood....except right now...when all I want to do is sit in bed and cry. which probably puts me a few points behind. not that this is actually a race...or a contest. not that it ever was.

Thursday, May 29, 2008


So, I made it through a day without crying. Wednesday, 28 May 2008: I did not cry. The Events leading up to this day are as follows: Tuesday morning, I got up, lifted weights with some cheery girl on some DVD my mom has and then made myself a bowl of my favorite food: beans. I sat on the couch watching court television, eating my beans and drinking Dr. Pepper...doing fine. When I am texting people, and I don't receive answers in a manner that I deem timely ( my twisted reality at present...means like, two minutes), I get very sad. I start to think that maybe no one likes me and wants to meaninglessly banter with me via text messaging (I have unlimited text messaging on my phone plan). I was spooning beans into my mouth and watching this poor kid in a wheelchair argue about how it wasn't fair that he had to come all the way into the city to meet this guy for a job interview when the guy wasn't even taking it seriously. The judge ruled on the side of the jerk that didn't show up for the interview, and I cried my eyes out for the poor kid in the wheelchair. It was...almost...comical. I couldn't finish my food.

Then texting commenced, and the minutes flew by until it was time for me to go to trivia at the P and H. It was good to see people, and to share pitcher after pitcher of cheap beer. I even had some delicious JalapeƱo poppers. I also got to share my knowledge of terrible 90s music as well as my extensive knowledge of television shows. If not for the tie-breaker question of "pick a number between 1 and 200" (WTF) we would have come into money. It was a robbing of sorts. My favorite moment...the question was something about who had a hit in some year in the 90s with 'That's the Way Love Goes.' Zack immediately began to sing the chorus and I chimed in with the spoken bit...and punctuated it with 'Janet Jackson,' which was right...and oh so wrong that Zack and I both not only know the artist but can perform the song. Oh FM have taught me well.

I stayed at the P and H talking with Jeff and his wife Michelle (Mechelle?) until about three in the morning...when Diana and I went to Krystal to indulge in some Krystal Chiks...because they're so good for you.

My day without tears was interesting. I ate at Fino's with Diana and we put in our applications for this apartment we are interested in. Then I met Tess and her two lovely daughters at the zoo. It was surprisingly lovely outside (cool and cloudy), but Saylah (?) still insisted that I needed to wear sandals. She kept grabbing my hand to drag me forward and warn me, 'wait til you see the polar bears!' Tess is infinitely patient with two girls. At one point Saylah ran up to her, grabbed her hands and said, 'I am so in love with Otters,' despite the fact that we were watching the sea lions.

By close to the end of the day I had bitterly reminded a young girl that is newly in love, that she is probably not in love and that she needs to wait and see and sat in grim silence for a time...and Tess still told me I was doing really well. She bought my Mango sorbet...for which I was grateful.

I ran into Chris and April at Target and we talked for a good long time about what have you...making each other laugh. It was nice. Then I bought "The Audacity of Hope" and a half gallon of Edy's Rocky Road ice cream. I went ice cream...and wanted to cry. Being in this looks normal I suppose...but it doesn't really feel that way. I always feel kind of naked...and sore. My whole body feels sore. Sometimes...I think crying relieves a bit of that pain. But sometimes...there is not a catalyst...and I don't cry. I suppose thinking that it would be a good day when I didn't cry was a bit naive. I mean...I've had good days when I did cry...and not to say it wasn't a good day...because it was...but in and out, and up and down, I'm still in this naked painful place...and I suppose a good day is really just relative.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008


This morning i thought to myself that I might make it through the day without crying. I drove to midtown after a shower to remove the thick film of insect repellent from my skin, and I sang to some music in the car, and thought, "maybe I won't cry today." I spent the afternoon watching television with Diana, which, probably isn't that bad...but I've just moved to Memphis from London. I've moved from a place where something is constantly happening to a place where nothing is happening....except the humidity, and I feel like I'm practically dead. Sitting on my ass for four hours at a time makes me hate myself even more...hate my...I don't know. So, at the end of the day...I went home and I cried. I walked into my mom's place and I gave her this teary look and said, "can I cry a little?" So we went to her room and we climbed into bed, and she told me to just I did. I rambled on and on about how I don't feel like I have a place here any more. Every one is one place, and I'm over this crappy place...and I don't feel like I I can contribute...I rambled about how I should just go somewhere else and start completely I don't know what I should do, but I'm scared to marry myself to a decision right now. My mom told me to slow down and be here for a minute...she pretty much told me to do what I'd been planning to do...but she emphasized that I would be going somewhere else in the future...I just had to figure out where the best place to go would be. Sometimes I get scared that I'll get scared...that if I stay here too long...I'll get overly comfortable again...and not be able to venture out and meet my goals.

Before I met him, I always felt like I was looking for someone. And, after I met him, I felt like I didn't need to look anymore...I thought I'd never have to worry about having to look again (because I'm just that naive)...and it made me made me feel safe. I don't feel safe any more. I feel like my searching will take over again...and instead of finding myself, I'll continue looking for someone else, and I'll forget my dreams. Is there a remedy for the desperately seeking soul? Is there something to calm the fear that I will be alone for the rest of my life...long enough to allow me to see clearly down the path towards my that I might be more open...more find someone that won't ask me to give anything up....or to wait.

So...I did not make it through the day without crying. Day 26. Not enough days yet, I suppose. That's just how it goes.

Monday, May 26, 2008

I'm Sorry was day 25 of being broken up with him, day 11 of actually being separated from him. I'm doing OKAY. I decided that I would do something nice for myself today and go out and buy some underwear that I really like...but I went to like....four different places, and no one had the exact type of underwear that I was looking I didn't get any...because I'm sick of buying underwear that I hate because I can't find what I like. Thus...I did nothing for myself today. I cried a little, and's going to be a really good day when I get through it without crying.

I also got myself out of my bed, after my failed underwear adventure, and made it over to Grace's for a pre-memorial day cookout. I couldn't believe my ability to actually have conversations with people without breaking down and crying to them about how sad I am. I only broke once...technically. And let me just say this...I'm SORRY that I'm not happy enough to be cheerleader pumped about other people's fantastic relationship successes. I have to convince myself to stop thinking about the guy that broke up with me and how much I want him back...and I have to convince myself that I need to start coming to terms with the fact that I will never be able to have him back. This is the difficult journey in my head and heart. And so...for those of you that are experiencing relationship bliss...I am sorry...deep in the recesses of my heart, I am incredibly happy for you...there is a tiny version of me locked away somewhere behind all this baggage that is doing a little cheerleader toe touch for you..and flicking her pig tails. Which are cute. But the me outside, is stuck in a block of muck...trying to keep from crying at random times because the person she put stock in...gave up and sold out. Don't feel sorry for me. There is nothing to be sorry for...just understand my lack of enthusiasm...and take the minute expressions of happiness that I give as HUGE...perhaps even a high five...up high AND down low.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Puffy Eyes

So...I thought I was doin real good. I was moving along, planning my next steps...carefully, mind day at a time. And then..BAM..I cried for about two hours last night. I also used about 700 tissues. I forgot how magnificently lame heartbreak can be at times. How terribly uncompromising it can be. I forgot how quickly every ounce of strength and self assurance can drain from my conscience. For two to three hours last night, all I wanted, despite my better judgement, was to have things back the way they were. I wanted to be in England, wearing my coat and scarf and gloves, holding his hand and walking through park after park after park. I wanted to keep dreaming about where we would live in the future...what borough we would choose, and I wanted to imagine that someday...we might have children. I was sweaty from the Memphis heat, exhausted from the Memphis humidity/allergens, and angry from the driving.

I have always thought that if I loved passionately, despite my shortcomings, I would be loved in return. If I was willing to put the time, effort, and devotion into a relationship, I would be met with the same time, effort, and devotion. I have never understood, even though I have experienced it before, the concept of being rejected by someone I spent so much time loving. In the throws of my terrible sobbing, I often feel a bit too melodramatic...which makes me cry even more. It's horrific to come face to face with your weaknesses...and to succumb.

Despite what I told Diana last night, I do not buy into the sadness. It seems easier sometimes to let it become a part of you...a part of your shtick...but it isn't all that fun. Also...I look pretty horrendous this morning. I'm not sure how often that's going to go over well with me.

I am ready to not be stuffy any more. I am ready to be able to talk like myself...without this darn frog in my throat. Despite not being wild about the idea of, you know, getting a job and having a life...I suppose I am ready to inch my way into that as well.

Friday, May 23, 2008


I don't know if they have thunderstorms in England...I certainly haven't experienced one, and I've spent quite a bit of time there. I mean, it rains incessantly, but there's not really any thunder. Today, in Memphis, I woke up to a thunderstorm. It was dark and cool in my room (the perfect temperature), and the thunder was rumbling, a good bit away from my window. That is possibly one of the best things ever: waking up to a thunderstorm...when you can stay in bed and enjoy it. I snuggled up under the covers and breathed deep, trying to picture it far far away from ever being able to harm me, little me, safe in my bed. It rained like hell for a while, and then cleared up, but then, if you live here, you already know this.

Vanessa, I watched one of the Judge shows today...Judge Hatchett. She kept yelling at this guy to stop 'runnin' to [his] mamma!" I learned a great deal about responsibility. I also tried to wax my legs while watching...but the wax I was using was old and ineffective, and legs are still...sparatically hairy...because of the inconsistency of the epilady. Stupid epilady.

Here is an article about me: Grammar, but only when I'm not writing my blog...I have my own brand of grammar when blogging.
In any's from one of my favorite blogs, and it is an hilarious slap in the face.

I only cried twice today...they were little snippets of cries even...not full on crying, and I was with Diana...and she timed it was good. I cried over Mexican food...and then made a little joke about was one of those laughter through tears things. Surreal. Everything is surreal these days. I said I felt empty...but Diana told me that wasn't the case. I don't know if I'm full...yet...but I must not be empty.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Drivin Around Midtown

In case you do not already know...Diana and I have decided to move in together. It's time to take our relationship to the next level. I mean...she is my ex/rebound. Because of this decision, we have done a lot of driving around midtown frantically calling numbers from little red signs stuck in random yards. We have realized this: people offering 'too good to be true' deals on really big duplexes with hardwood floors and all appliances...are usually trying to pawn off a duplex in an area of 'midtown' that is inhabited by dirty old men with beer cans in paper bags during the day and prostitutes during the evening. But hey...I do need a job. In any case...this is difficult. Not only because people are getting pretty proud of their midtown properties, but because I've got this notion in my head that I need to be inspired by the place. We've found a place that inspires me...but it's $150 a month more expensive than a smaller, less inspirational place...with a much smaller bathroom. Lemme ask you this: is $450 a month too much to pay for a big place? It's less than I was paying to live am therefore torn.

I do a lot of driving around midtown lately...and driving back and forth between Hickory freakin' Hill. At home this evening, my mom and I ate dinner while watching 'John and Kate Plus Eight' on TLC. It's this show about a couple that had twins and then decided to have another kid...and got sixtuplets or....whatever you call them. The mom's belly was ridiculous. So is actually watching hour after hour of the show. It's entertaining...don't get me wrong...and the kids are nuts...and it kinda makes me feel a little bit better about my life...cause I don't have 8 damn kids yelling in my ears all the time. The more I watched this show though, the more I kept picturing myself back in London...doing what I would have been doing at this time...instead of watching TLC. I might have been watching TV with....him.....or messing around on the internets, or cooking...I mean...nothing much more exciting...but I would be in London...and not Hickory Hill. Then I get sad. Sad for where my body used to be...and sad for where my heart used to be. There's so much more room in the States. Everything is much more closed in in London. I drive to and from Midtown and I picture myself on the tube...crammed in between two guys talking about football. I feel like there's so much room, gravity is pulling my body in a million different directions, and I might break apart into a million little pieces. actuality...nothing that spectacular is's just another my life...that will one day end...and I'm plodding on towards having a fulfilling routine...I am therefore forlorn.

I do not know what to do with my feelings. I want to cry, but there don't seem to be any tears left at the moment. I want to laugh, but I feel so rigid inside and out...uncomfortable in my skin. There are times when I don't think about the pain...or the confusion...or the past...or even the future for that matter. I can't tell you exactly when they've happened...but I know they've happened. It's like a glitch in the my it tries to repair itself, and prepare itself for what's next. I cannot imagine the future. I cannot imagine myself in another relationship. I cannot imagine myself wanting to love someone. What a pain it is to mourn.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

I'm No Expert on Daytime Television

But, by the time I get over this cold...I might accidentally be. I began my day yesterday by switching back and forth between Regis and Kelly and The View. THE VIEW for cryin out loud. There was a skinny blond bitch that pretty much argued against everyone...she sat in that seat where the young skinny ones usually Lisa Ling (so I've seen it BEFORE...gees...he who is without sin can totally cast the first stone). Whoopi Goldberg is on the show now...I think I had heard that, but I didn't actually really care. Their guest was....wait for it...Barbara Walters, the freakin' creator herself. It was like watching an old show...only the stupid one was blond instead of asian. I remember Lisa Ling, from Channel One fame, actually said once that she always talked to her psychic in the morning. REALLY? LISA? Come on! You went to Bosnia and places like that with the Channel One made us believe that it was incredibly dangerous with your 'whispering'....a psychic?

I cursed TLC for their non stop back to back showings of A Baby/Wedding Story. I'd like to produce a show for them called A Wedding because of a Baby Story. That would make for good daytime drama. I avoided watching soaps, or, some might call it self-flagellation, but I did watch a lot of cable access including someone from Memphis interviewing someone else from Memphis that was wearing a giant, yellow, foam cowboy hat with red sequins. It may have been the editor of Jabber Blabber...I was in and out.

Today I opened my day with a Don Johnson show that I thought was Miami Vice...he was in that, right?...but it turned out to be..Nash Bridges? Then I indulged in a little bit of Tyra. She was dealing with people with eating disorders...isn't that what all her shows are about? She had one girl that showed us all how to pump our own stomachs to keep from having to digest any of our food. Then there was this girl that ate baby powder to control her weight. didn't. When asked why someone might continue to do something this ridonculous without positive results ( never know)...Tyra's eating disorder 'expert' responded, 'I have no idea.' Tyra then did her little concerned brow furrow 'mmmm' face. It was awesome.

Finally...and this is really the creme de la creme (cream of the cream)...Jerry Springer's show for today was called "Lesbians Attack." Now, I don't normally watch Springer, but...I couldn't resist...and I didn't really stay with it the whole time...but I know there was pillow fighting involved...some girl's muff popped out from beneath her extremely short dress...and at one point, a giant American flag was lowered on stage, and everyone stopped fighting to sing the National Anthem. It was in that moment, that I realized I was home. Home. The land of the free, and the home of the worst daytime television in the world...and by worst, I mean...the absolute most amazingly best. I'm hungry now...I'm going to go down some baby powder and get back in front of the boob tube. I think they might be showing back to back Matlock.

Monday, May 19, 2008

Angry Sad

I've been spiraling into a gigantic hole of being sick since I stepped off the plane in Atlanta. That tickle in my throat started on Thursday morning, and has been teasing me ever since. I thought I'd stand up to it by going out Saturday night after loads of rest...but I did not triumph in the end. All day Sunday was spent coming to terms with the fact that I was getting sick, and there wasn't anything I could do about it but shut up and sit down. And by 'shut up' I actually mean that I cannot speak. I do not have a voice.

You know why this sucks? I mean, generally being sick sucks...but I've been stuck in this position of not being able to go forward for the past three weeks now. I've been crying for three weeks. I've cried a lot less recently, but I've still been crying for three weeks. Being sick does not make me more hopeful about the future. Being sick makes me miserable. I feel like I'm being kicked while I'm down.

I cried last night, uncontrollably...again. I want my life back, for God's sake. I mean...I gave it up for another...and I just want it back, but I can't just get it back. I have to rebuild it. I call these people that let me down the idiots...but maybe I'm the actual idiot. I mean...they don't give anything away, and I give it all when things end...they've got nothing to rebuild, and I've got everything to rebuild. I don't have a job. I don't have my own place. I don't have my health. I want control of my life back. And really...I just want someone to actually fucking love me. I'm sick of being blind to the fact that I'm with someone that is afraid of taking it to the next level...afraid of taking a step out into the great unknown. Afraid of letting it be what it could be. Am I too much of an idealist? Is it too much to believe that some things are worth working for...some things are worth sacrificing for. When will I be worth sacrificing for? I wrong about all that?

In these times...when I finally stop crying...I don't feel better. The cries aren't those cries where it's really all you needed...they're just cries...and when they're over...I'm still in the same place. I stop crying because, if I didn't, I never would...and I would drown in my misery. I stop crying because some day it will get better. I was told by someone recently that I would be surprised at how quickly I would begin to feel better. I was told this by someone who has never actually suffered any real pain. Those that understand real...actual pain...tell me what I hate to hear, and what I know is true...that I have to be here. That it may seem like it's going to last forever...but it WILL end...and I WILL get through it. And I won't think to myself, in the end, "gee...I'm so surprised at how quick that happened." I imagine, and I know, that I'll be exhausted. That I'll be free...but I'll be exhausted from the journey. I'll be sore from the strain and bruised from the falls...What I KNOW that this person doesn't that...when it ends...I'll be different. I'll be stronger. I'll be better. It doesn't happen fast. It never happens fast, but it happens. Trusting is the hardest part.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Strange New World

I was sitting in front of the television watching 'What Not To Wear' when I suddenly realized, 'I don't care what this girls friends and family think of how she looks.' SO, I gathered myself up and walked back to the computer room to B-L-O-G.

Walked around Cooper Young yesterday saying hello to people and having random conversations. It's nice to be able to do that. No one really wants to talk to you in England for that matter...ESPECIALLY if you're American. There appear to be a couple of new eating places that I will need to visit...and perhaps frequent...the Bakery by Burke's being the number one place on my list.

I chatted with the lady that owns Hi-Octane Vintage (with her husband)about this insanely cute yellow dress that she had. I asked the price and she told me, but she punctuated it by telling me the dress was an extra extra small. She did not do this in one of those voices that hints that there is no way in hell that I would be able to fit into it, but rather in a voice that implied that NO ONE would be able to fit into it, and isn't that a bitch? I agreed, made a joke about the size of my chest (and we all know it's phenomenal), and continued browsing. Everything was fabulous, and so moderately priced, I could see myself throwing loads of money away.

I've looked at two 'eh' apartments in Cooper/Young so far...both with carpet (in midtown? REALLY?) and both tiny and pricey. Ridiculous.

I'm keeping myself busy. I've discovered that keeping busy and being angry are the two best ways to keep from feeling sad. When I'm not angry, but rather, inundated with memories of sunny days in London, walking hand in hand with he who shall not be named for a little while...or just resting in that little nook of his arm...I ache with sadness. The world slows down a little, and I am paralyzed by hopelessness. Sometimes I think of myself...riding my bike around midtown...thinking of heart belonging to him...and I'm sad too, but then I get angry...because I focused my heart on all that...and I was the only retrospect.

Tonight I'm going to try to make it to the Hi Tone to see Al Kapone. I get real tired at around ten p.m. so...we'll see what happens. I fell asleep last night reading my beautifully bound Master's thesis. It's not bad...but it is terribly boring sometimes. I mean...Early American Transcendentalist Feminism...........................................WAKE UP! GA! Thanks a LOT!

Anywho...if you want to come out...and pretend like I never left...or smother me with kisses...I'll try to stay awake. Let's see what happens.

Friday, May 16, 2008

I'm On My Way

Today I return to Memphis, TN: The home of Graceland, Stax, the Memphis Tigers, The Civil Rights Museum, Bar-B-Q, Justin Timberlake, Mr. Pants, Alexander, a good deal of you lovely readers,

I went to sleep last night at around 10:00 p.m. after watching the Office season finale, and feeling like I needed to go back and do a little catching up. I piddled with my new phone until my eyes were weary. I woke up this morning at around 6:30. I must not be very fun to sleep with because my dad's dog keeps trying to get away from me...when she normally LOVES it when I come to visit. I also might be coming down with a cold.

Yesterday, it rained. RAINED...for the love of all that is holy. I had breakfast at IHOP and asked for an extra helping of bacon...surprisingly I did not have to specify that I wanted crispy delicious bacon instead of salty chewy back bacon. They brought me the tasty kind, and I drowned it in Maple I did my buttermilk pancakes. Sorry for those of you that don't eat meat...and are trying to avoid other things too. It was DELICIOUS. My dad helped me get set up with a new phone and new phone number. It was all too exciting. Then we watched Girl With The Pearl Earring. Charlotte Johansen literally says about three words in the whole film, which you would think would be easy...but it means she had to actually, you know, act without words...which can be much more difficult..and, well...she pretty much failed at that. I would say the only thing she was really good at was having pale skin and big lips. She was freakin awesome at that, but then, she always is. After the movie was over, I crawled into bed and cried. Sometimes I have to have a cry. The world feels so damn heavy right now. Every day, it's like I'm marching through a swamp. My dad was there to sit at the edge and hold me...and eventually Diana called I had Diana in my ear talkin' sense, and my dad by my side rubbing my palm. If you have never had anyone rub your palm, you should try's the most disarming thing in the world. Whenever I'm overly stressed, I like to have someone rub the palm of my hand. Also, if you have never had Diana talkin' sense in your should definitely try that too

Then, we got Mexican food. It was delicious. Within seconds of being led to our table, a little guy was there with a big basket of chips and a bowl of salsa. I ordered a Dr. Pepper, and was brought the biggest cup I had ever seen...full of ice..and the Docta. I ordered (you love this) the 'Mango Maya' which was beef cooked to a tender 'point' (?) with mango pico de gallo, regular pico, rice, beans, and tortillas. I ate all of the mango pico. It was GORGEOUS. Then I ate more chips...and cheese dip. yes.

This was the parade I was looking forward too. Mexican food....and also...I just watched the New Kids on the Block make their debut on the Today Show. Heads up: Little Joey Joe is married with a big fat ring on his finger, but he looked damn good in his little vest with pocket watch. The parade continues.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Jet Lag

Good Morning America. My plane touched down at about five minutes past four p.m. eastern time. It is currently around 6:30 a.m. in the central United States, and I have been awake for about an hour. I slept with my dad's dog, and I woke up too early even for her. She keeps looking at me like I'm insane. Well, Gracie, you're not wrong.

Walking out of London was easier than I expected. With every step, I felt myself propelled forward into the next step. I thought I would cry, or throw up or something, but I didn't. I just kept walking. Turning my back on Liam was easier than I expected as well. I cried a little bit, but I kept walking, and, most importantly, I kept breathing. No more life support...just me.

I thought taking a Valium on the plane would make the time disappear, but it wasn't quite as dramatic as some people made it out to be. I downed a half, as I was told, before we took off...and luckily we taxied on the runway enough for it to kick in and relax me before getting into the air. I'm not afraid to fly, goodness knows, I do it all the time, but I'm not comfortable. Take off is the worst, and a muscle relaxer now and then helps a lot. However, while I was expecting to pass out and wake up at landing...I did not. I enjoyed the feeling of my relaxed muscles, ate a lovely meal, and watched Charlie Wilson's War before getting annoyed with the effects of the drugs and taking the other half. I then slept for about two hours...I think? I woke up in time to watch another full length movie...and to enjoy some good old fashioned turbulence. I almost threw up...and I never get that uncomfortable on a plane. I was lucky though...someone had some trouble that kept the flight attendants occupied for pretty much the rest of the flight. It also kept a poor doctor out of his posh first class reclining seat. When we did land, we had to wait for the paramedics to get this unfortunate guy/girl off the plane.

I cried when we landed. We circled Atlanta a few times, and I watched it on that screen that shows the plane creeping across the Atlantic, giving you minute to minute updates of miles left to travel. I was so engrossed by the screen that I didn't noticed the feeling I usually get when the plane is just about to touch ground. It was a bit of a jolt, but not too terrible. Some people clapped, I just cried.

Being home isn't the magical parade I imagined it would be. I suppose my heart is still in England, although I do have to say...well done Old Navy...the new dresses this season are phenomenal...and pretty much all $24.50. I slept on the drive back to Huntsville...waking up every half hour to ask my dad if he was okay in case I needed to drive...which would have been suicide because I was pretty much unconscious. Upon checking my email, I realized that the job I was counting on this summer is only going to pay me about $400 a month...which means I need to get another part time job. Any ideas? Maybe I should just try to get a job copy writing for some newspaper. How does one get a moderately lucrative job in Memphis? I've become a Monday to Friday girl and am not anxious to jump into waiting tables on the weekend.

I cried myself back to sleep in the end. I slid out of my pungent shoes and slid into bed with an eager to cuddle dog, and I cried a little cry. I suppose living is like riding a never really forget how to do it...even when you think you might have.

Monday, May 12, 2008

The Final Countdown

I had a really good day today. it made me sad to leave london. I spent some time at work just talking with the women I work with...letting them teach me...letting them in. Then I went shopping and admired my new 'city' body...tried not to worry about losing it. roamed around listening to my favorite playlist....thought about all the changes i'd like to make in my life....thought about dinner parties i wanted to have with my girlfriends...thought about making vegan mussaka (spelling!) for vanessa....thought about having pimms with everyone and telling stories about londoners and their strange ways. Had dinner at this GORGEOUS thai restaurant hidden in the back of this pub called 'the churchill'. the pub part is covered in pictures of winston churchill, but the back an indoor garden...covered in flowers..with marble top tables and delicious, cheap, thai food. i went with a girl from work, her sister, and one of her only friends in london (she's very selective and hates living in a giant city)....we shared a pitcher of pimms and then went to another pub to have a pint. i finally figured this damn city out...and i'm leaving. ah well. i kept trying to think of it this way: i've lived i can live anywhere i want. I can handle it. I really can. rather than thinking: woah is me....i'll never have another opportunity like this again. my mom gives me a hard time about not being ready to settle down....but i think that might come from an upbringing that demanded settling down. I don't know if that's in my immediate future...sometimes it feels like it would be nice...but then it feels like it would be nicer to keep growing and changing...and being changed by what the world has to offer me. the trick is...finding someone that wants that too. Surely they exist. surely there is some guy out there that isn't so imprisoned by subconscious patriarchy that he might find it exciting to follow me around to different places...and not even to follow me...but to go WITH me.

Sunday, May 11, 2008


I think I'm done with London for now. I still have two and a half days...but I'm done now. I'm an much as I tried to be an insider...I was always living in someone else's house, using someone else's things, hanging out with someone else's friends.

Liam and I went to Brighton yesterday, and it was lovely. The best part about it was that it made me want to be back in Midtown more than anything. I KNOW I'm in England and doing all these things that a lot of people never get to do...and that's great, and I'm grateful, but it's been nearly six months...and, the truth is...England never really had that much faith in me. I've always been an American trying to fit into an English lifestyle. I've always been a bit of a sore thumb. I recall a moment a few weeks ago when I was joking with Liam's friends about someone commenting to me that I had to admit that America didn't have all that much culture. I recounted this moment in my 'isn't that crazy' voice, and I was met with blank stares. I was expecting similar 'that is ridiculous' laughs in response...but there was only silence and blank stares. I'm in a sea of smugness. I have never encountered more talk of 'openmindedness' without a single shred of action to match the words. Don't get me wrong...I know MANY Americans with this same 'i don't get your point' attitude, but people here pretend like those Americans are stupid...when really, they're all in the same damn club.

I opened my mind. I moved my body and my soul to this place. I tried to fit in. I'm not saying I was stellar at it. I wasn't. I complained a great deal, and my body struggled to adjust to its new mold. I ran into many walls and fell on my behind many times. I didn't wish any ill will on anyone in this...I've never felt like other countries were stupid and behind the times. But my mind is changing. People that sit in their own stymied pile of self-satisfaction are behind the times. I do it sometimes...and being snapped into reality can be very embarrassing, but I'm not saying I'm not open to it...or not aware of the fact that it needs to and will happen many times in my life.

Six months isn't really long enough to make a house a home. I feel like it was my trial period. I feel like that is what was expected of me. I sometimes feel like a failure until I remind myself that I was only here for six months. I lived in Memphis for over 18 years before I really felt like it was my true home. Life doesn't move as fast as some people would like it to. Love doesn't fit into the packaging that one might expect. I gave it. Perhaps my package was wrapped in old newspapers and filled with a lot of things he didn't want, but I gave it to him...and underneath it all there was love...and I ran out of time. I didn't move fast enough. I didn't fit into the mold right away. It was hard...but I always had faith. Oh ye of little faith. Little faith in me.

Friday, May 9, 2008

Random Fears

So...I was thinking recently of nothing in particular...actually I was reading Vanessa's blog about her cough, and, for a moment, I had this fear of getting sick. It's so weird thinking about going home...and people being sick. I've managed to avoid being sick, since the debacle in January in which I was sick for like three weeks, by staying home from work and resting as soon as I began to feel ill...and no one at work ever questioned me. Working back home...if you call in better have a damn doctor's note when you come back...and who can afford to go to the doctor? Not me, certainly. So...I got scared of being sick...and I wanted to blame it on getting sick...which has yet to happen...and I wanted to beg him to take me back...but only for a split second. No begging for boys that don't want you. Moments later I remembered that I'd been sick before I met Liam...many many times...and I always had my friends or my mom to whine to about how crappy it was. So...false alarm....I'll probably be fine.

Also...I giggled today. I grinned like a fool and I giggled at work while chatting with the girls about boys.

Hills and Valleys.

My newly epilated legs are covered in insect bites I cannot identify. No itching...just discomforting and unattractive.

Thursday, May 8, 2008

I Swear

Your comments are helping me get through the days. I check my blog about once every hour at work just to read your comments. I also check in the help me get dressed. I'm not as scared of coming home...I feel a support network.

This evening I googled 'broken heart' (just in case you were wondering, 'Google' does not acknowledge the term 'googled' as an actual word). Then, as if that wasn't enough, I actually visited the different sites that came up. Wikipedia has an entry for broken does '' I found the About article much more informative. Wikipedia told me what the symptoms of a broken heart were...which confirmed my broken heart, but About told me the only way to get over it. And guess what...I've been doing MOST of it except exercising (although I pretty much walk most places) and forgiving myself. I do a pretty good job of listing all the things I probably did wrong and running them over and over in my head until I'm certain that there isn't a single person in the world that could love me for who I am.

Don't unleash me in a room full of ornery mothers. I have no pity. I hugged a mom today after giving the whole room a speech about how I didn't know how long the wait would be. It was probably just me, but I felt like I was being attacked by droves of angry women every time I got up to tend to something. I was having trouble breathing. Then, after the speech...this mom came up to me to apologize and say that she needed to I apologized back...and I hugged her...randomly...I'm pretty sure she's not the hugging type. But she took it very well, and asked me to hold her baby while she arranged the baby carrying on your chest thingy. I saw the baby and his little spots on his newly irritated skin...and he was sucking away contentedly on a little pacifier that said "sweet pea" on it...and I teared up.

Liam breaks up with me...and it finally gets warm in London. The weather in this city has been a living hell...for my entire relationship practically...and now that it's's enjoyable...and I can look around and see that it's beautiful..and smell that it's beautiful...and feel that it's lovely...but I can't bring myself to enjoy it deep down in my gut. I feel like I've been robbed.

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Ball of Mess

Today finds me at the bottom again...climbing up the mounting and sliding back down, clawing at the mud all the way. I feel and look like a zombie. I cried like a baby in front of Liam. I cried so much my face began to sting from the salt in my tears. Any chance I had of looking like a super-hero...totally blown. I look like a ball of mess.

On a lighter note, I 'epilated' my legs today. That's right. I used a little machine that supposedly rips the hairs out at the root, and let me tell was pure fun...and by fun, I mean...insanely painful. One of the girls at work told me about it when we were chatting about waxing. I challenged her to bring her Epilator, and I would epilate at lunch. First have to make your hair shorter before yanking it out at the roots. SO...I used some scissors. Did ya hear that folks? I trimmed my leg hairs with scissors. Now I can make this joke: Why am I still single?!! Then came the fun. I turn on this contraption that pretty much looks like the mouth of that big sand monster pit thing at the beginning of Return of the Jedi, and it's rotating and making this delightful noise...and then I place it on my legs...and it begins to pull the hairs by the root. All the nursery nurses watched in awe. When someone asked, "what's it like," I felt that saying it hurt wasn't quite good enough. It was like a deep tingle...that starts small...and spreads up all the way into your throat...and it was cold...and horrific...and the worst part about that you get used to it. You start to get used to this gargantuan level of pain..until you just continually inflict it upon pursuit of smoother legs. It took me about 45 minutes total....but I took a break at one it took me more like 2 hours. It also made me sweat...a lot. But I did not cry. No sir...not till I got home...and then I cried like a freaking baby. I cried until I couldn't move. I cried away any chance of Liam ever wanting me back. I cried away any chance of ever being able to take him back...because what kind of guy goes back to a girl that sobs like that?

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

At Theatres, The New Super-Hero:The Girl You Broke Up With

Yes. I am superwoman. Why? Because today I got up with the alarm clock, I got dressed...I even put on make-up...and I went to work. I was a little late...but everyone was so surprised to see me, they didn't care too much.

Then began the day. We killed time for a while...catching up, trying not to have to do any of the terribly mundane tasks ahead of us. Then I started doing work, answering the phone. I only had to put my head down three times to keep myself going...and I only had to hide in the bathroom to cry twice. I made an impressive number of jokes today...all through bitter, gritted teeth...but funny jokes...I think.

We went out after work for some drinks and a meal because all three of the temps...including me...are leaving within the next two to three weeks. We shared wine and dessert...and we laughed about being single. There are a lot of single older women in the city of London. Single women that want to be not single...but get on with it. Then there are those guys that think, "being single is awesome, and it's totally what I want!" These guys are tipping the scales with their stupidity...with their naivety. But the women are getting on with it. I suppose it's what we do...the women you break up with...we become superheroes. We keep living.

I wasn't alone on my walk from home to train and from train to work...I had the indigo girls in my ear. I'll tell you a little should never try to make through a break up without turning to the Indigo Girls. And no, that's not a euphemism for trying out lesbianism. Those ladies can take any sort of situation you'll come your life as a superhero...and turn it into beautiful music. Talking about getting your heart wrecked? Add a little acoustic guitar and some harmony...boom: strength. It's like the atomic sludge that will turn you into your superhuman self.

"Beneath my surface the water's heating
And steam comes up and out the tears you see me shine
For every strange and bitter moment there was never a better time
For every pleasure exacts its pain
How you hurt me how you were good to me"

I know I cursed you the other day...but woah to you who have never felt this kind of pain. It is in this time that I feel my skin...and I feel just beneath it...just beneath the pleasure does exact its pain. There is never a better time.

Monday, May 5, 2008

Bringing my Distaste for cleaning to new Heights and Fun with Idioms

I was doing fine today...Great even...relatively speaking. I actually got out of bed not too long after I woke up...went to Sainsburys with Liam and bought some stuffing my face food. Then we sat in the garden eating croissants and doing the crossword together...something that will never happen again. We discovered a baby birds' nest in a hole right above the back door and listened to the tiny baby voices every time a mama or a daddy bird flew into the hole. then we went to the park to play tennis. It's warm and pleasant...with a cool breeze. Then we decided to get some stuff for a cook out. Liam worked on his lesson, and I searched the interweb...I contimplated changing my status on Facebook...but the idea of that little broken heart appearing in the 'mini feed' terrified me.

My status has changed...and I'm terrified. I LOVEd being in a relationship. I LOVEd being in love.

So I went to the bathroom to clean it...because I had put it off for long enough. Liam came along and remarked that he would have done it...which was a lie...but whatever. And while I was scrubbing...and water was dripping down my bum-crack...I got more and more sad.

It comes every day...and every day I have to look forward to the next time it comes. That wave of reality that this is not my home and it will never be...regardless of my best efforts. It took a whole lot of courage for me to jump off the Midtown ship and Swim over to this London one. Except...I had a lot of encouragement from a certain someone that has fallen silent at this point.

Here's what I was thinking when I finally buried my face in my bleachy hands for my daily cry: I put all my damn eggs in one damn basket...and I thought it was okay...I thought it was my basket...but it wasn't my basket, it was his basket, and he doesn't want my fucking (had to be said) eggs (sometimes there is cause for obsene situations). SO....Here I am in this basket that I totally thought was mine...and I'm wrong...and I gotta get my eggs together and ship em back over-seas. And that makes me sad...and scared...and angry...and confused...Memphis is my home...but I've been in London basket for 6 months now...and this basket is very familiar to me now. It's scary to leave it. And Eggs are really fragile and difficult to transport...for the record.

Then I feel my age. I KNOW...I'm NOT old...but sometimes I feel it. I it okay to move away from home after I turn thirty? Is it okay to change towns again...or was this my last big hurrah...was this my chance...and it's blown? I'm scared I'll get scared to ever move away from Memphis again...and well, my goals kind of require it...and my heart really wants to...for crying out loud.

and Now I ask you...WTF? Honestly...What the WTF?

Sunday, May 4, 2008

two in a row

Yes...this is what I do now...I blog. It keeps me from sitting still and staring off into space...blinking occasionally...feeling hopeless.

I encourage you to read the first blog I wrote today as well...there's always room for two doses of pure misery.

I thought to myself, a bit earlier, that it was a good day because I hadn't cried today...but then I remembered that I spent the first three hours of the day in bed...and I cried a couple of times then.

I tried to go the science museum today and enjoy myself doing one of my favorite things: kicking around in science museums...but I couldn't. I hated everyone there. I hated the exhibits and the line in the bathroom. I hated the smell of lasagna coming from the cutesy restaurant.

I hate the girls walking outside my window singing.

So I left the museum and just walked. I stopped in Hyde Park to rest in the grass...and the clouds were so brightly gray that I had to keep my eyes shut. Then I went to H&M to try on some cheap clothes...and noticed how horrific I looked in the mirror. I am a sight to behold. A pile of miserable hair, dark circles, blotchy skin...and a permanent sad face. I tried to smile...but it was horribly fake.

I was hungry too...but the hunger pains made me feel a little less numb...until I bought a cornish pasty and sat on the sidewalk to eat it with a coke. I took the slow circle line most of the way home and started to feel better...but only slightly. The clouds were even grayer when I got off the tube at Turnpike lane.

What, I ask, is the point of being here....if I can't be happy? Staying and working would be good because it would help me make a little more money to bring home...but it would also be long...and lonely...and confusing. I am rubbish at decision making.
I HATE being know...the kind of single where you're not confident in your ability to be alone. Even though you know it can't seem to find it down there in your gut. People that have never had to be single...make me sick. You who do not have to work for your happiness. What have I done that makes me less deserving of the happiness you've found...and what have you done that makes you more deserving?

Ugh...this must be more exhausting for you than it is for me. Thanks for reading. Have a nice day.

Up and Down

I did get out of bed yesterday. Liam and I (I have no one else to hang out with) went to eat an English breakfast and then explore the Portabello Road Market. I bought some olives and a coke at the market...REAL adventurous. After about ten minutes of walking past all the happy couples wishing I had my girlfriends to keep me focused on the fact that there is joy without boy, I told Liam that I didn't want to walk anymore. So we found a place on one of the ritzy Notting Hill residential streets to sit down and eat my olives and drink my coke...which, actually, he bought...the coke.

Somewhere after the eighth olive...I asked Liam why he didn't want me in his life...I like asking him millions of hard questions now...because I don't have to worry about whether they will freak him out...I don't CARE. I live in MISERY. He can be uncomfortable. After his usual sounds of discomfort...the statement, 'it feels like all or nothing with you' and my comment that it might not be so bad to see him every once in a while...he told me we should see each other once a year...and I told him being a Phd student was going to limit my tourism trips to expensive he actually agreed to come see me once a year. Then I sat and ate some more olives...and after eating a small bit of the really strong pickled garlic clove, I decided to be happy for a little while.

I've been trying to work out how to keep from adding another person to my life that existed, but now my more. Because Clay is no longer in my life...I often wonder about him...he doesn't truly exist for me beyond my memory. I don't know if that's really easy. It certainly makes things easier if you can be away from and hate the person that slated you...but when you wake up one morning and you don't care any's nice to know they're out there...after were intimately connected for a long time. It's also hard to hate someone that doesn't actually hate you...and that you don't actually just think they are horrible...and you can't trust anything they say. SO...for a moment...I decided to not hate Liam right away...for my sake really...because I have to be here...and it's easier when I'm not hating the only 'friend' I have. We went way south to a very sort of rural part of London and walked in a park, and looked at little bunny rabbits, and I took pictures...and it was FINALLY beautiful in London.

I still mourn. I'm still terrified. I still ache. I still wake up in a pile of misery, and I still cry uncontrollably every so often. I don't know if I'll stop crying for a long time. I cried at dinner last night...after a few sips of wine...all through my Thai curry. Surely made Liam feel like crap...but, such is the nature of breaking someone's heart. You BETTER feel like crap.

Saturday, May 3, 2008

In My Dreams

I finally slept through the night last night. Friday was strange, but good, in a way. I spoke to my mother, and, although we bickered, and some things that she said made me extremely depressed, I began to be able to recognize her voice as the voice of reason. She sounded surprisingly like Vanessa Fargo. And I began to accept the reality of the present while looking slightly onward toward the open future. I was actually able to sit with Liam for quite some time without crying. I still fell into a valley of self-doubt and fear...but Liam was able to comfort me without making me any promises that he never intended to keep. Deep in the recesses of my brain...I didn't want him to take me back. I wanted to continue moving forward with my life.

But I still ache for this place...and this love inside me. And these memories. WHY can I only think of the good times. WHY is my heart bombarded with images of happiness and that feeling of safety that only comes from true delusion. Okay...that's me being bitter. I'm sure the feeling exists in a pure real way...a way that is reciprocated...but where to find it...

While sleeping through the night, I dreamed that I was in London...but it felt more American...and I was thrift store shopping. I found some amazing clothes and shoes, and I wanted to take Liam there to show him how amazing it was, but the city was sinking. Yeah...I don't know if it was raining...or if the Island of Britain was slowly submerging, but the streets were flooding, and we had to hurry to get to the store. When we got there, the supply of cool things was much more limited. And then, suddenly, as in dreams, I wasn't with liam any more. I was with people I didn't know, and we were looking for a restaurant. I think perhaps these people were the London friends I never actually made. We were laughing and then we were trying on clothes...and I thought, "I can't leave London!" So I decided to come back and get a Master's in a foreign language. And I had to explain to Liam that it wasn't about him...I wanted to be with my London friends. This is when I started to wake up. Have you ever slept so hard that your ear is sore when you wake up? I do it occasionally when I am stressed out about something. My ear was sore...and it snapped me back into reality. I thought about convincing myself that the dream was telling me to come back to London...but I think it would always be for Liam...and never for me. I'd have to make it be for me...and I think that will take a little time.

Then I got sad. As ya do. And I wrapped the covers tightly around me...and I almost cried.

Thank you for your words. They meant SO much to me. I feel much less alone. I feel the ground beneath my feet...and I feel the support behind my shoulders. I'm getting out of bed today.

Friday, May 2, 2008

Waking up is hard to do

I forgot what it was like in the days following the removal of your heart. Yesterday and today I opened my eyes after a drug-induced night of sleep and immediately began to cry. I can't cry enough right now. My eyes are permanently swollen. I am filled with terror.

Yesterday, I was sent home from work, but I didn't go home. I walked around Hampstead Heath for close to three hours. The sun was shining, and it was absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful. It also rained a little. A cloud blew over for about thirty minutes, but it only rained for about ten. And it hailed. Small hail, but hail none-the-less. I stood under a tree and cried. Sobbed.

When I got home, I crawled into bed to cry...and this is where I've been since then. Except for when I went to the polling station with Liam so that he could vote for the mayor of London. He is so resolute...he still cares for me...but he is resolved and confident in his decision.

I feel like I should be dead. The sun is making a mockery of me. I spent so much time here looking forward to spring-time...excited about how beautiful the city would be in the spring...and now it's here...and I can't drag myself out of this pain. It isn't allowed. I done this before...that there is another side to this...that I will get there someday...and I will be at peace...again. I can't even bring myself to go to the bathroom.

I am scared of the future. I am scared of the time when I'll be desperate to find someone to hold onto. Why are we always looking for someone? The only time I'm not looking for someone to hold onto is when I have someone to hold. Now I don't have anything. I don't want to make the same mistakes. But I probably will. And that is terrifying.

When I asked for help in my last post...I was merely asking for support...for words...I want to know that you are there, that I am not crying out into an empty abyss. I have no one here except the one person I want more than anything...and he doesn't want me. I hate that there is a six hour gap between me and my real home. I hate that I can't bring myself to enjoy this beautiful city. I need to hear (see) your voices. I am drowning.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

I Need Your Help

I suppose it's going to seem a bit silly...asking this...knowing me. I've proven myself to be somewhat melodramatic many times, but at this point...I don't know what else to do.

You know how it feels when you have that nagging feeling that something isn't right? And you know you need to bring it up because if you ignore it, it just gets bigger and bigger and worse and worse...and you wake up one day and it's killing you? I asked Liam last night how he felt about the relationship...what were his honest feelings. I felt an ocean between us, growing bigger...and I needed to talk to him...I needed to be able to talk to him. It took him some, I suppose, some people have difficulty expressing themselves, but the conclusion that he drew, in the end, was that he felt, and had felt for quite some time, that our relationship was a strain. That he didn't want to have to make decisions about his future with me. That he didn't want us to have to work so hard to stay together. That he wanted to be free to do as he pleases. And that staying with me was only postponing the problems that might arise in the future.

He had said it before, and I had fought it. But, this time, I couldn't fight it. I wanted him to say that he had doubts, but that he loved me and wanted to be with me...that he dreamed about our future I did. But he didn't. He hadn't. The only future he saw was an end, and I'm not sure if you can argue with that. I'm not sure I can allow myself to fight for someone that isn't sure about me. He actually said, when I asked how he felt about me, that I am 'kind, and loving, and easy to get along with most of the time...and fun to be around,' but that was it. There was no passion behind it. There was no confidence.

I amaze myself sometimes at my ability to hold on and to carry love so deeply and passionately that I put myself aside. I'd like someone that feels the same way. And Liam doesn't. And I can't fight that.

So here I am...confident, as he is, that this is the right thing....but at the same completely alone in this big big city. I have three weeks. I've thought about trying to come home earlier. I don't really have the money...and I also feel like there are things that I haven't done...that I'd like to do before I go. I think I'd like to spend a day on the Tube. Just riding it around to different places. I'd like to go back to the British Museum. The only difficult waking up every morning...alone. The only hard thing to do to breathe.

So...I need you to help me. I need to feel like you're with me. I need to feel solid ground. I need to feel home.

I know it's a lot to ask...but for those of you that I love...and that I hope love me...I'll pay you back. I promise.