1

Today is a big hair day.

Why do I want to know all the details of something that hurt me? What does knowing do or me? A sense of control, but why? Is it me coming to terms with the situation? Is it inspiring a feeling of honesty and the person I’m interrogating? It’s hard to make sense of. Maybe it helps me understand the situation, give reasons to actions. If I understand the thought process I think it’s easier to forgive… ? I would much rather have the correct explanation than the one that I hypothesize. But knowing facts and almost inane details about what happened doesn’t lend itself to understanding a thought process.

2

Why do I need to know when, where, how, who she slept with? Why does it matter how many times it happened? Why isn’t it enough to just say that she cheated, and the trivialities are just that? It’s really difficult to wrap my head around. It’s not a conscious thing, and examining the self conscious is all wishy washy. Suffice to say that I do go into interrogation mode, and I recognize that about myself.

I think that if you value me, and we’re friends, my love is almost conditionless. It’s a little flawed though I think my mom values me, but we’ve never exactly been friends and it’s hard to describe what I feel for her. I’m grateful, but that’s just a word. It’s not active like my love usually is for others. Apparently I presently can’t get over her old parenting ways and weird selfishness.

3

I think in time I’ll be able to give her the love she deserves, and thank her more heartfeltfully.

But if we are friends, and you value me, everything else falls away. She cheated on me, but she knows who I am and she cares and she is grateful for me. Who am I to reject her for part of who she is? I may not like it, but being valued always trumps that. It’s not a self esteem issue I don’t think, because I know and accept for the most part who I am. Maybe it’s a sort of arrogance. I know what I give, and how awesome I am, so if they are of an accord then they’re worth what I have to offer.

I think that’s part of why I flipped out at [close female high school friend] over winter break, because I just felt underappreciated and not valued in the slightest. But that’s helped me recognize that people are who they are, and you should adjust your reactions accordingly. But I don’t want to be friends with that sort of flitty, flaky person that doesn’t value me.

4

If it’s past 5 in the morning when I wake up and I feel good, I need to just get up. Sleeping another couple hours just to feel awful is obviously not the good way to go. I don’t know why that happens but it does frequently enough for me to be writing about it. I have yet to decide whether I’m going to read these or just write them and let them be. I’m not marking them with dates, just a simple ordering scheme. But I don’t think I want this to be a private journal; it’s an open collection. Hm. But what if someone who shouldn’t be privy to sensative information wants to read it? Who am I to change their opinion on someone because of my experiences? If they arrive at the same conclusions well then go me I guess for being perceptful. I’ll just continue to leave out names if it’s necessary for the protection of those individuals and decide on a case by case basis upon reading. I’m sure I’ll always know who I’m referring to. But how do I decide to let them read it? Thinking. I don’t want to bring it up, because then it’s a decision of whether or not to share it. If they ask me about it, I’ll ask them.

5

Giving someone a new chance can be different than a needless repetition of history. People learn; people change.

I woke up at 4:55 and went back to sleep until 6:30 upon which I decided to follow my sentiment from earlier, and arise. I’m so tired. I’ve been drifting for the past 20 minutes. It’s hard to even think with my eyes closed. I remain awake but apparently the only effort my brain can expend is floating images through my mind. Once I finish this page I’m going back to sleep for 45 minutes. We’ll see how I feel then. Probably just as dead, but I can hope right? My hip feels a bit better this morning, although I haven’t moved from the bed so it could very easily suck.

6

I had a dream that I was a lifeguard, but the pool wasn’t [teenhood pool]. [Pool boss/handy man] was somewhere underneath laying down train tracks which was totally illegal because the pool had officially opened already. It should have been done earlier in the year. Sometime while doing that he drove his street paver to work and repaved the road. That was super exciting because I had just gotten a lambhourgini or something. I think I drove around on it. At the very end of the dream though, I saw the pavement wasn’t smooth at all. It had like chunks in it but I didn’t seem to care. [High school/pool friend] was there talking about cars and how he couldn’t use the hand brake. Someone else, maybe [high school acquaintance/friend], said that they could use it really well. They wanted to look at the car but I had to go so I looked away. The chlorine readings were inefficient and inaccurate, as always.

7

There was a family with three or four kids. There were two girls and either one or two boys. I walked by them at first, and then the second time I walked by the littlest girl threw a ball at the back of my head and barely missed. These were very hard balls. So I went over and found out who did it and started talking to her in a lifeguard way. She didn’t want to listen so I had to recruit her mom to help make her pay attention. Finally she was listening so the result was a ten minute timeout and a warning for the future. She grumbled something as I walked away and I went back and started talking more frustratedly but then I left. When I looked back to think about it, the problem morphed into a question I gave everyone about how they would go down the road or something. She answered in the only way possible that broke the problem, something about splitting the road in two or something and that was exceedingly frustrating.

8

Saw [former college girlfriend] for the first time today. I was at the top of the stairs outside the “toilet bowl” and she was at the bottom walking by. I know she saw me but I don’t think we met eyes. I didn’t even recognize her at first, probably because of the bandana she was wearing. It looked like it would fit in a 70’s home, maybe from the multicolored drapes.

She looked burdened. I don’t know if that started after she saw me or was the whole time. Sorta hunched forward, as if she were bearing the weight of the world. Each step looked like it took effort. I’m sure she was coming from working on a project. We didn’t speak or acknowledge one another. I found out that the wound was still fresh; there was an agony in my chest and I started quivering like I do.

9

I saw her ex [name] outside Salsarita’s yesterday, odd timing. I don’t know if he recognized me because he only saw me the once but I’ll assume a probably considering how upset he got that first time. There was no hint of acknowledgment. I walked with him and asked if he was in line at The Market, which he wasn’t.

And that was that. He sort of annoys me as a person because of how manipulative and guilt-inducing I’ve heard he is. this case is not helped by the fact that [former college girlfriend] hung out with him and seemed to rekindle their friendship when she thought I cheated on her. I attribute it to trying to feel safe, secure in a place that she will absolutely

10

not be rejected from, puppy dog that he is. I’ve been trying to determine whether I bear any feelings of ill will towards her. Rather, negative feelings. A desire for misfortune to fall upon someone isn’t something I have for anyone. She hurt me, that’s undeniable. But do I resent that? I would still very much like to be with her; if not for her standards. I would still very much like to be her friend, if not for the fact that she didn’t value me. The two are most likely linked. She never fought for me; it was always me chasing her. I fought. I fought her, for her. But I don’t want a friend, a good friend, that doesn’t appreciate me. I know what I have to give and, if anything, I undervalue its worth. But are there negative feelings towards her? It doesn’t feel like it. Sadness for the situation. But I love the person, not just the good bits of them.

—sometime between january and may twothousandzerohundredsthirteen