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Sunday, May 17, 2015

clean slate

Sunday, May 17, 2015
things change.




I haven't updated in what seems like forever but it's actually--
one month ago, give or take a few days, my mother read my journal.

parents, never do this to your children. they are kept under covers for a reason. maybe things are better left unsaid.

parents, please love your children unconditionally, and trust them in some things, because love is more important than what you believe is correct, than outwards appearances. love is whose hand your child holds, and at least they can feel something other than the fear you planted in them.

she found out through reading it while my dad and I were biking at calzada. that was honestly the worst sunday of my life. crying for five hours, arguing and swearing. my whole self was exposed that day-- there is little that they don't know now.
 the following week was show week and my 16th birthday. it was unreal. I listened to two albums that week only: taylor's red and noah and the whale's first days of spring. they are really good angsty albums if anyone is going through a hard time.

  • monday there was more crying, this time at school. leo has my journal now because I can't sleep in the same room as it. they keep it in their backpack at all times, bless them, and haven't opened it. an emergency shrink visit and late night rehearsal later, I was calmer, more at peace.
  •  tuesday was a blur of rehearsal and dressing rooms and awkward moments. but fun otherwise. she read the skipped stanzas of numbers and liked them. they still stand.
  • wednesday was my birthday. I stayed up until midnight and gaz did so too, remnant of a tradition in moments of turmoil change. sorry that you have to listen to all of my rants about my parents and girls and school (it's give and take now, not just give, we've learned). the sky cleared that day, it still rained. still don't feel sixteen. too big of a number.
  • thursday was opening night. I signed the stage manager table and gave her flowers. we made up, sort of, somehow, it's all back to the beginning. raw. 
  • friday was amazing-- a great show and a great day. they feel more like a family now, and I thank them so much for screaming along to taylor swift and rihanna with me. 

  • saturday more shows and smiles and the greatest veg burger in town, most probably. look at my vsco for that. 

  • sunday. closing night. one week afterwards. it felt like the end and the beginning. closing off with bright red lips and trampolines, a modest proposal, stumbling feet, your hair on my cheek again (how it all began). I open at the close.
with the end of school looming, everything became a blur once more. taking this time to focus on my studies now, probably the only thing I can keep up. three--two?-- mondays ago was scary:
I now know that your eyes turn small when you cry
I could drown in your tidal pools,
but I barely splash in the red sea
I now know that sob is a verb, and one you can do so well
that
when someone's life seems to be falling apart all you can do is grip at normalcy,
at circle softness

raw, once again. completely vulnerable. another page ripped from the moleskine and hidden inside her backpack the following morning, written while listening to red once again.

I miss blowing into the headset, your hand tucking a stray hair behind my ear, flirting in the dressing room, cramped cars, fuck-marry-kill (still every day), mic checks. that week gave me the greatest support system in the world. grace and leo, forever indebted for their unconditional support ever since they helped me get fixed up that saturday in november during Pippin.

But now I am busy. directing a show for artsfest, pouring my heart out onstage for open mic, just last week you tucked pencils into my hair, rarer than any pepe, cramped sofas, off key singing. we're each other's rocks now. it's funny how I can feel this close to people I've only known for half a year. and we're back to november, heat waves instead of biting wind, knowing smiles and butterflies still. I'm trying to calm them, but part of me wants them to stay. the one who ran away has short hair and pretends to know how to play the harmonica. bits and pieces of you in everything I do. 

last tuesday I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and dysthymia. scary stuff. but it's good, now that we know the basics of what's wrong with me we can fix it. I'm on my way to fixing it.
part of it is because of you, but I'm trying to 
be me without you with me
I am getting better, slowly, surely, recovery is making its way through my bloodstream. I am becoming, slowly, my own person again.

I am conscious that who I am will affect my future radically. hell, it is affecting my present radically. but for now-- I am conscious. I am breathing again, no longer head under water, I can see the surface once more. it is a clean slate with three things written on it. I get to choose who I am now.
estoy en progreso.

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