the time traveler's wife

as i turned the last page in my book my heart sank, and i needed to hear his voice. i reached beside me into a void in my purse where my cell phone should have been. i fumbled through pockets that house an abundance of paper, chapstick, and ink pens. my efforts turned up only my keys, which i took eagerly, flinging the door to my edit bay open, just to reach you. i had almost forgotten to ask permission, or merely inform my producer of where i was headed. as i reached my car i confirmed how predictable i am, my cell phone hidden under a pile of cds and strawberry mint gum. i began to dial your number but my cell phone did not respond. the battery had met its demise while waiting in the car. and for reasons seemingly unprovoked, i leaned my head against the door and began to cry.

i just needed to be near you. the character in the book was you, and in the book i was your lover, and the story ended so unpleasantly that i couldn't bear the idea of the characters ending up the way they had. i had gotten so involved between the pages of this book. it took nearly an entire night to recover from those pages; i wished they were endless. i wished the characters were invincible. i wished him and i were invincible. i wished we could be guaranteed to always be in love, and come home safely to each other. the book seemed to introduce me to the reality of knowing that one day him and i will have our last kiss. i cannot be comforted, even if i was told that our last kiss would be when we both will reach nearly 100 years old. i will never be satisfied with endings. my heart would break in 80 years the same as it would today.

i feel alive.

i feel like jumping on the bed. or telling someone a secret. but i keep no secrets, and this is certainly an improper time to jump on my bed. i don't recognize myself these past few days. i've been relentlessly spewing thoughts and questions. my bravery has taken most by surprise. i suppose that's why i'm so pleased with it, because i feel constantly underestimated. i suppose it's just leftover from the days where i was quiet, and could easily blend into the background of a party like wallpaper. now i suddenly want to tell you about myself, i want you to hear who i am. in case you've forgotten me, in case you don't understand me, in case you're curious to hear who i am, or what i was. i simply want to be unforgettable.

two weeks, two years, or just tonight.

i breathed a sigh of relief upon opening my mailbox. it's been weeks since my laptop was working but it feels like years, not for a lack of the ability to check my email, but because of the overflow of thoughts and dreams that have had no place to be written down. my hands are much too impatient to be writing things i am thinking at the speed of light. i don't know where to begin now, or what to say. i'm overwhelemed. i feel as though i've grown over the past few weeks, but i'm unsure i could describe how. maybe it's because boredom has driven me to start reading again and i've been engrossed between pages, and allowed myself the pleasure of becoming lost with headphones in my ears.

i'm awfully excited to be back.

my heavy head is full of debris.

this is the third night i've sat cross-legged, with a blanket over my head to shield the light of my laptop from his sleeping eyes. from the outside i imagine i look like a tent. from the inside i imagine the light illuminates only the exhaustion in my eyes. i feel so separated in here. the sound of the fan keeps me grounded, because otherwise i don't know where i would feel like i was.

tonight i felt his touch but my mind would not acknowledge it. i was miles away. my vacancy tangibly surfaced, uninvited. we were in each others arms but i'm unsure of where i was. for a second i thought i had begun to recite lyrics in my head, or maybe i had started to silently question if it was raining outside. i wondered if he was aware that my mind was elsewhere, and if maybe his was elsewhere too. i wondered if he could somehow notice just by being near me, or that he could somehow see it in my eyes, but it was much too dark to tell. the only light i could faintly see was from the moon, creating shadows and shapes in the corner of the ceiling. he seemed so tangible, and when he spoke to me i responded but i don't think i can recall what i had said in return. in the midst of my happy day, i started to feel overcome with sadness.

i'm unsure i can sleep tonight. at times i regret that my mind has such a capacity for spontaneous thought processes. these are the nights i wish i wasn't afraid of the dark. i need fresh air, i crave to see the stars. now i can only pray for a headache tonight. the headaches that exists behind the eyes, and creep around to every part of your neck and head, until sleep becomes mandatory.

i haven't lived until i've traveled.

i can't fight the feeling of wanting the ability to be able to peek at my future. i just want the smallest hint. like being granted the ablility to lightly shake a box under the christmas tree. i know it sounds terrible, but i would never shake a christmas gift too hard, because i'm sure it would break. so in this case, i would never pry too deeply for fear that i'd ruin everything.

at this point i think my life could go in nearly any direction, which is amazing if your cup is half full. but if by your perception, you feel like you might soon be in need of a refill, i suppose this is an appropriate time to feel a bit nervous.

i have the slightest bit of college education that remains undecided enough for me to pursue any major i'd choose. i have a car that's loyal, but aging. i have the choice to adopt a kitten. i have hair that i can't decide to cut or keep. i'm turning 20 this year. i have a job that could take me anywhere, so long as i choose to come along for the ride. i have a home that might not be my home for long.

i always promised myself to never lose sight of possibilities. so what if i chose to live off of cup of noodles for the rest of the year, and turn my pay checks into plane tickets, a passport, and a suitcase full of film?

i gave what i gave.

i've been feeling detached from my journal for lack of proper words, or loss of any words at all, really. my life seems to be precisely what i percieve it to be, no more, no less. i suppose i've had a bland reality check. i'm not lost in my own head like i typically find myself, but instead i think i'm becoming slightly vacant all together. i'm unsure of why, but i don't really feel up to analyzing my life at this point anymore. i saw people i haven't seen in years, and suddenly i felt as though my life hadn't changed at all. i was suddenly the same girl, with the same thoughts, the same insecurities, the same laugh. and those people never stopped caring for me. they loved who i was, and to them i am no different.

i'm not sure i would desire to change, but maybe i expected all of my memories of who i was to die, and disappear from my thoughts. and so i witnessed the death of my memories, began to grieve, and woke to find that all of my memories had gathered and come back to life as ghosts. i'm unsure these ghosts are welcome to hover around me while i go through my day. even if they represent who i was, they aren't alive anymore, and i don't think they should be allowed to come and go as they please.

i think i always expected my mind to grow old and my memories to lose meaning with time. but it seems now that i'm entirely more lucid than i thought i would be, signifcantly aware of every change ever presented to me in my life, and that i possess the same mind i will always have. i just don't seem to feel any different, and i thought i would. as a little girl i always wanted to feel a year older by each birthday. and i would search for any tangible difference in between who i am today, and who i was the day before.

i am weary of becoming an old woman for fear that my mind will always be so perfectly intact, so alive, just as it is now.

it had been ages.

i feel like i have been away from home for weeks although it has only been three days, and two nights. there is something priceless about home. i crave my belongings. i sighed as i greeted my front door, and smiled at my sheets as i walked into my bedroom. my body is punishing me after eating fast food for two consecutive days. i had been itching to walk into a grocery store to make a meal, but if i'm nowhere near home, then sadly, the world is not my kitchen. carl's jr, denny's, and jack in the box seem to be synonymous only with heartburn.