Pomegranate - Courtney Marie Andrews

I'm aching. I've gotten my peace, and still I ache.

Dried up flowers on your dashboard

Pomegranate in your teeth

I told you that forever is what you looked like to me

In the shrubberies of summer, in the dying desert leaves

My heart pines for you, and... I can't stop it. I thought that after getting the forgiveness, the peace, the closure, that I would be able to let go. Maybe it's wrong of me to feel this way, but... I still want you. I still crave you. I still feel so much in my heart for you. You, who brought me to life.

On our first date, we saw Courtney perform... this was the first song she played. I remember we spent the majority of the show sitting awkwardly next to each other, hands twitching anxiously for the other... It wasn't until a week later that you and I held hands, and kissed, and snuggled... From there, every day with you was a treasure. I can't even begin to describe the wonder you brought into my life.

I don't understand why I keep feeling for you. I don't understand how I could feel the amazing life-changing peace of forgiveness and the gentle warmth of closure and yet stand here today with the ever-persistent ache of a missing half. You were the only person I was ever hesitant to love, because you were the only person I was ever afraid of loving.

Answers pending in your mailbox

Silence filling the room

Our love survived like flowers

in the harshest winter's snow

In the valley where the sun sets pink

Where the grey men and their wives go

I don't know what good saying all this will do. I honestly don't. There's that part of me that sits like an anchor in my mind, holding me back from what I want to do. Were I more... courageous... I would run to you right now, no holds barred, no concern for work or school, I would run to you and... well... that's where things go fuzzy. I don't know what I would do.

All I know is that the idea of being with anyone but you feels wrong. The way being around unpleasant people feels wrong. The way having a vital part of you removed feels wrong. The way losing a family member before their time feels wrong...

Being left alone with your thoughts for days, especially with thoughts as fast-moving as mine, gives you the time to reach a lot of conclusions, visit many different perspectives, and examine all the options as well as ponder the current state of your life... well... No matter which way I look at it, no matter what the scenario, there's nothing but you. The whole world has turned lackluster and undesirable, all but thoughts of you.

I feel happier wrapped in memories of you and me, smiling to myself about when we used to argue about who said "I love you" first. I sleep better immersed in thoughts of your smile than without.

 Tell me your secrets I promise I will bury them in the dirt

even if they hurt me, oh so deeply

I will mask my quiet concerns

Tell me your lies, tell me that you knew her

Tell me that you knew her more than me

I will compromise, keep you in my ear

forgive the morning and the evening

and anything and everything

I know that you and I have been hurting... and I know that things can't be the same. So why do I keep aching? Why do I still feel love for you? Why do I keep feeling that if I just talk to you, we could rebuild? We could begin again... if we both tried.

Hate Me - Blue October

I have to block out thoughts of you so I don’t lose my head
They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed
Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I’m alone
Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home
There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain
An ounce of peace is all I want for you. Will you never call again?
And will you never say that you love me just to put it in my face?
And will you never try to reach me?
It is I that wanted space

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you

Hate me in ways
Yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you

I’m sober now for 3 whole months it’s one accomplishment that you helped me with
The one thing that always tore us apart is the one thing I won’t touch again
In a sick way I want to thank you for holding my head up late at night
While I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight
You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate
You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take
So I’ll drive so fucking far away that I never cross your mind
And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn’t do for you

Hate me in ways
Yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you

And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave
Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I had made
And like a baby boy I never was a man
Until I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hand
And then I fell down yelling “Make it go away!”
Just make a smile come back and shine just like it used to be
And then she whispered “How can you do this to me?”

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn’t do for you

Hate me in ways
Yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you
For you
For you
For you


Once upon a time, these words saved my life.

For the longest time, this song was my salvation, keeping me back from the edge. This song got me through the very worst of times, where I was nothing more than a husk, a facade of humanity. Once, long ago, this song was my anchor to sanity.

Now. . . now this song is a reminder, a cruel mental blight that never ceases to reiterate in my mind that I irreparably fucked up. This song, which once upon a time saved me from suicide, is now the one song I can't bring myself to listen to, yet can't stop hearing in my head; the one song that just might push me over the edge forever.

Panic Attack - Dream Theater

Reader(s), I'm scared.

Today, thoughts of death are my companions. They are a scattered collection of fragmented ideas that I thought I'd left behind long ago. I thought for the longest time that my worries were gone, that I wouldn't have to face the impending doom that is my eventual fate.

>All wound up<
>On the edge<
>Terrified<

As the title of this post may suggest, I experienced a panic attack this evening.

Ever since experiencing my first attack on my 19th birthday in the pit of an Iron Maiden show, I've been... wary of stress. I've been conscious of my heart-rate, careful of my breathing, and always at the ready to find a reason to calm down.

Since the show, I've experienced numerous small anxiety attacks, characterized normally by elevated breathing and an inability to move for several minutes. They've been more frequent in the last couple months, for obvious reasons. Stress is a familiar thing for me now.

>Sleep disturbed<
>Restless mind<
>Petrified<

All my precautions, all my calming thoughts, all my practiced breathing, nothing could have prepared me for the full physical assault of stress and anxiety and emotion that ensued tonight. It was like a truck hit me square in the chest, shattering my ribs and collapsing my lungs, leaving me gasping for breath and in immense pain. I felt my legs go weak from the shuddering in my chest, felt my lips trembling from grasping for oxygen. I was shaking so horribly, gasping so frantically, I was folding in on myself, finally an external projection of my internal self.

>Bouts of fear<
>Permeate<
>All I see<

It felt as though every nerve in my body was shot simultaneously, then resuscitated only to be shot again. It was wave after wave of oxygen-starved pain from head to toe. 

>Heightening<
>Nervousness<
>Threatens me<

Everything started to turn red, then I couldn't see anything. I was grasping at my throat, trying to find even a whisper of air, but when there came no air, no breath, I began to panic even more, and the experience only intensified. I could almost feel myself dying, collapsing from a lack of breath, stopped cold in the apex of my life. I've never felt a fear so intense in my life.

>I am paralyzed<
>So afraid to die<

Even with a mass of human flesh closing in on me, physically threatening to crack my ribs to the tune of Aces High, I wasn't this scared. Even as my throat was physically being crushed and my only salvation was the backwards pull of his comforting arms around my shoulders, I wasn't this scared. I wasn't alone then. I was panicking, but at least then, I had a hand to hold while I slowed my breathing, while I made my head stop reeling. I wasn't afraid of dying then.

>Caught off guard<
>Warning signs<
>Never show<

I've never known what it's like to have fear and sadness and anxiety take physical form like this. I've always felt them as nothing more than a fleeting sinking feeling in my stomach, or a bitter pang in my chest, but never like this. I can honestly say I was unaware of my body's ability to take the emotional and turn it into something like this. This... this pox. This disease.

>Tension strikes<
>Choking me<
>Worries grow<

I don't know how long I blacked out, only that I did. I just... I recall getting into the shower, and in the midst of scrubbing my hair, having my entire physical being crushed, and when I thought I could take no more of it, everything went blank. The next thing I knew, I was wrapped up in a blanket, shivering on my bed, heart racing, breathing still elevated but within controllable limits. I don't know what happened between Point A and Point B, but now that I'm relatively calmed down, I find it prudent to write down the experience before I forget.

>Why do I feel so numb<
>Is it something to do with where I come from<
>Should this be fight or flight<
>I don't know why I'm constantly so uptight<

In my post-panic state, I can't tell if I'm grateful for the encroaching physical and emotional numbness, or if I'm sad to see the invigoration of panic go. Despite nearly experiencing my death, I almost enjoyed the near-sensation of it.

>Rapid heartbeat pounding through my chest<
>Agitated body in distress<
>I feel like I'm in danger<
>Daily life is strangled by my stress<

I can't tell if I should be wary of another attack, or just excited at the knowledge that I can feel something. In a twisted way, I almost want to experience it again, just to know what it's like to have my heart race for something. I almost want to stand on the brink of death, just to see if I'll fall back or forward into the cold embrace of nothingness.

>A stifling surge<
>Shooting through all my veins<
>Extreme apprehension<
>Suddenly I'm insane<

These are the thoughts that scare me. These are the thoughts that weave their way through my mind when I'm trying to be happy, when I'm trying to fix myself. These are the thoughts that make me wonder what gear got knocked loose in my head, and how long it's been loose. These are the thoughts that make me curious as to how I've survived my life for this long.

>Lost all hope for redemption<
>A grave situation desperate at best<

I'm so indecisive. I wish I could just... choose, whether to feel the lively palpitating of my heart as I feel all my fears come to a point, or to wrap myself comfortably in the numbness that I'm so familiar with. I'm beginning to feel conscious of everything I wish for, all the would-be's and could-have-been's and might-be-so's that I so often live in. I would that I could start living in the present as-is, but the tantalizing thoughts of my fantasies are so much more beautiful than the stark, sharp reality I'm so resentful to.

>Why do I feel so numb<
>Is it something to do with where I come from<
>Should this be fight or flight<
>I don't know why I'm constantly reeling<

I feel an optimistic longing for a better tomorrow, as well as a stubborn attachment to the beautiful yesterdays, coupled with a bitter resentment for the depressing lack of life that is today. It creates a confusion in me that makes death seem like an awfully comforting companion.

>Helpless hysteria<
>A false sense of urgency<
>Trapped in my phobia<
>Possessed by anxiety<

I guess the agitating thing is that I can't hide from what's inside my head. I can't escape the ever-present thoughts of mistakes and trials and stresses and fears, the never-ending torrent of words and emotions and noises that flows through my head.

>Run<
>Try to hide<
>Overwhelmed by this complex delirium<

I wish I could escape the fears, the anxieties, the sheer panic of an unending thought-stream. I wish I could know the feeling of a clear segment of thoughts, an easy-to-understand stream of consciousness, or better yet, the feeling of hearing no thoughts at all. In all the confusion that normally plagues my brain, the idea of a clear, thin line of thought is like the sound of trumpeting angels in the sky.

>Helpless hysteria<
>A false sense of urgency<
>Trapped in my phobia<
>Possessed by anxiety<

I don't know how, and I don't know when, but somehow, I must fix this. I must learn to control my fear, my anguish. I just don't know.

>Run<
>Try to hide<
>Overwhelmed by this complex delirium<

So that's the story of my evening. I suppose... tonight the thoughts of death kind of count as... cynically suicidal, but kind of contemplating my narrow escape. I can't tell if the persisting thoughts are memory or the contemplation of a future event,  but I'm too exhausted to care at the moment, so I'm going to just... sleep, I suppose.

Hopefully tomorrow will arrive with better experiences in tow...

Winter Winds - Mumford & Sons

Being home all day has its perks. For one, getting to sleep off sickness all day is pretty great. For another, not having to get dressed is even better. Unfortunately it also means spending the whole day alone with your thoughts, which in my case is not exactly good news. I made the comparison earlier today that being alone with my thoughts is like being locked in a pit with dogs: they're amiable enough for the first little bit, but as soon as they get hungry, I start looking less like a friend and more like a meal. It's one of the reasons I can't stand being alone as of late. Being left alone with my thoughts is a sure-fire way to send me plunging into one of those catatonic comatose days, where on the surface I'm serene, calm, at peace, but inside I'm a tempest of emotions and confusion.

It's getting colder outside, and it feels like I'm getting colder inside as the temperature drops. The winter winds are coming through, carrying the chill of loneliness, and driving people toward the warmth. I'm trying to keep reminding myself that I just need to take this one day at a time, that one of these days I'll wake up, and it won't hurt any more...

{As the winter winds litter London with lonely hearts}
{Oh the warmth in your eyes swept me into your arms}
{Was it love or fear of the cold that led us through the night?}
{For every kiss your beauty trumped my doubt}

And then I woke up this morning and realized how long I've been alone.

I've been alone for over a month now, and I didn't even comprehend the passing of days until time suddenly slowed down for me. All of October has come and gone while I ached, while I cried, while I sunk within myself. I can't tell whether I should be glad that so much time has passed, or miserable that it's been so long and I'm still on square one.

I keep having nightmares. I keep wishing that I could have someone sleeping next to me, someone to ward off the cold thoughts that keep me from rest. I keep wishing that I could have that happiness back, even just a fraction of the warmth that I once had.

I keep dreaming of him.

{And my head told my heart}
{"Let love grow"}
{But my heart told my head}
{"This time no}
{This time no"}

His face pervades every moment of my sleep, driving me to insanity with every passing moment. I keep telling myself that I need to let go. Everyone keeps telling me I need to let go, to move on, to get on with my life, and as much as I try, still the images persist, and always with the same pattern.

I dream of all our best moments, I dream of the day I met him, I dream of the happiest days of my life, and I dream of all the kind words I once heard from his lips, the soft caress of his hand on my shoulder when I slept, the warmth of his body next to mine as he held me until I could sleep. I dream of his laugh, his smile, his eyes, the tickle of his beard on my forehead, the steady beat of his heart. I dream of the way we used to fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, and then everything changes.

I start to see his eyes flash with anger, his smile turns to a grimace, his laugh a staunch denial to me. I start to see all our fights flash before my eyes, all the cross words between us, all the worst days I put us through, I dream of the way he cringed away from my touch on the last day I saw him, the way he refused to embrace me, the way something so beautiful and so true turned into something so twisted and grotesque, something ugly and angry and unforgiving.

I wake several times a night, cold with sweat, chilled to the bone, shaking with something; I can't tell if it's tears or anger or fear. I wake each time with a pit in my stomach, guilt stabbing me with every passing second until I can force myself to sleep again.

{We'll be washed and buried one day my girl}
{And the time we were given will be left for the world}
{The flesh that lived and loved will be eaten by plague}
{So let the memories be good for those who stay}

It's maddening. I used to sleep dreaming of fantastic worlds with no sense or reason, a veritable Wonderland with every passing night. I used to be able to tell tales of my dream world that made people laugh for their nonsensical hilarity. People used to wait to hear about my dreams in the mornings, but now, I don't even know that I can safely call them dreams.

I'm so mixed in all of this. While this time through the depression, I have such amazing, supportive people here to keep me going, to keep me moving, I'm also experiencing things that never happened before. I'm being robbed of the security of knowing the territory I'm in. I'm receiving more help than ever, and more often than not, it feels futile because I just don't know how to handle what I'm experiencing.

{And my head told my heart}
{"Let love grow"}
{But my heart told my head}
{"This time no"}
{Yes, my heart told my head}
{"This time no}
{This time no"}

I never had nightmares in the past. Even in the worst days, I was able to sleep comfortably through the night and enjoy my dream world in the very least. Sleeping was the only thing I had to look forward to at one point, because dreaming was so much more appealing than real life. Now, I don't even have that. I can't even go through my day with the goal of getting to sleep, because now, I'm afraid to even sleep.

I don't know what to do. I can't comprehend in any way, shape, or form what to do to remedy this. I'm essentially stuck in a whirlpool with no way to escape, nothing good to look forward to, no clue as to what I should do to escape. The less rest I get, the more muddled my thoughts get, and the muddier they get, the more bitter and confused and depressed I get, and the more guilt I start to feel, and the less rest I get.

{Oh the shame that sent me off from the God that I once loved}
{Was the same that sent me into your arms}
{Oh and pestilence is won when you are lost and I am gone}
{And no hope, no hope will overcome}

I spent several days in California recently, partially for Disneyland, partially for the beach, partially for a family wedding. It was meant to be a wonderful vacation, a fun-filled trip wherein I could be so cheerful that I'd be singing Zipadee Doo-dah from where the sun doesn't shine. We left home early Wednesday morning, and I was hopeful, excited to be leaving town for a few days and seeing my family members again, and going to Disneyland, and seeing the ocean again.

The drive went by in a beautiful blur. I slept for hours beneath the cover of a top hat, nestled beneath my warmest blanket, cuddled up to my Lotso Huggin' Bear, with Blue October playing in my headphones and keeping me relaxed for the long expanses of road. When we arrived in California, I was ecstatic to see that from our windows, we could watch the ocean lapping at the shore, a mere roadway away from our motel. I walked out to the railing overlooking the ocean, stopping to stare at the dancing waves.

... and I felt this... this overwhelming sense of bitterness wash over me.

{And if your strife strikes at your sleep}
{Remember spring swaps snow for leaves}
{You'll be happy and wholesome again}
{When the city clears and sun ascends}

It startled me. It scared me. After weeks and weeks of void and sadness and sinking, the sharp, angry feeling startled me. I couldn't understand what brought it on. I couldn't grasp what could have made me switch so sharply, to make such a U-turn in my thought process. I couldn't decide if I was angry at myself, angry at him, angry at the whole situation, or if I was just... angry to be angry.

I felt the emptiness in my right palm. The place where so often I felt a palm pressed against mine; I felt the chill on the back of my right hand, where so often I felt fingertips curled, resting against my skin. For the first time in all the weeks of being alone, I felt... more alone than ever. I missed having that hand to hold. It's possibly one of the biggest things I took for granted.

I do admit, I felt a portion of the bitterness toward him consciously. This trip had been the last big plan between us. He had been personally invited to the wedding, my parents had told all my aunts and uncles and cousins that he'd be coming along, that he'd finally get to meet all of them. I'd been excited to show him my dad's side of the family, to show him what a loud, raucous, excited group of people my family is. I was so... so excited.

Instead, I got to explain to every one of my aunts, uncles, and cousins, one after another throughout the entire evening, where my wonderful boyfriend was. My night, while it was beautiful, while the ceremony was amazing, while everything was so immaculate, was outright Hell. All night my ears rang with the phrases:

"Weren't you going to bring your boy?"

"Hey, Cloudy, where's your boyfriend? I was so excited to meet him."

"Isn't there that man in your life? What happened to him? I thought you were bringing him?"

I left the room numerous times to go hide out in the bathroom and cry like an infant. I was ashamed of myself that even after all these weeks since it happened, I still break down and cry at the mere mention of the breakup, any mention of my "wonderful boyfriend" and any inquiry into how I'm handling it.

{And my head told my heart}
{"Let love grow"}
{But my heart told my head}
{"This time no"}

I had my favorite cousin calling me a cliche all night long. "Hey, Claudia, don't you find it kind of hilarious that you and your boyfriend broke up, and now you're at a wedding?"

Um, no. I don't find it hilarious. I don't even find it marginally funny. I don't even find it remotely worth a chuckle. I find it amazingly miserable and pathetic. I find it depressing, and infuriating, and frankly the exact opposite of hilarious.

I wanted so badly to punch him in the face, right in the middle of a wedding reception.

On top of that, my favorite uncle kept smothering me with hugs (which on normal occasions I wouldn't have minded) and rubbing my hair into a mess, saying "No more long face! Forget the boy, get on with your life!" and then letting go leaving me a messy-haired grump.

I just wanted to stop him in his whirlwind of affection, right there and say "Tio Pablo, if you had met this boy, you wouldn't be telling me to get on with my life. You wouldn't be telling me to forget him, or to remove my long face. No, you'd be looking me in the eye and saying 'Girl, you find a way to fight for that love, and you fight for it no matter what!' instead of coddling me and telling me to forget him. Tio, if you'd met him..."

{And my head told my heart}
{"Let love grow"}
{But my heart told my head}
{"This time no}
{This time no"}

I know, given the circumstances of the breakup (which you may or may not know, but really don't need to know), that it's incredibly childish and selfish for me to be angry at him over not attending my cousin's wedding with me; to be angry at him for not going on vacation with a person I'm sure he couldn't stand to be around for more than a few minutes. I don't have the right to be mad at him for being human, but still, I was angry at him, if anything for the simple reason that because of him leaving me, I was humiliated in front of my whole family...

I have no right to feel the bitterness that mingles with the sadness now. I shouldn't feel the anger or the fury or the indignant grouchiness that pervades my day. I shouldn't feel as cold as Winter Winds over something that's my fault, except to myself. This harrowing bitterness is just misguided, and needs only to turn and face its source to know its true purpose...

Burn - In This Moment

Well, I'm back. Still nothing too positive to say at the moment, though I wish I had something. Just... something brilliant to say. Something useful, or wise, or profound, but really all I have is more musings from the pit of despair that is my day-to-day life.

I thought for a moment several days back that I might just be able to get through this thing in one piece, that I might be able to overcome my depression for the first time ever without having to hit rock-bottom first. I thought this because for the first time since the breakup, I laughed. Really, genuinely laughed. I felt the shaking tremors of euphoria break through the numbness for a glorious hour, and for a moment after feeling that laughter, I thought that maybe I could turn myself around without needing therapy or drugs or someone to lift me up.

Of course, this clearly isn't the case, since I'm melancholy again. I keep going through these cycles in my head, where I'll succumb to the depression, experience something that gives me hope, float a little on the hope I've found, have that hope crushed, and then I just... wither in on myself and cry myself to exhaustion, at which point I can't even bring myself to care any more, and the cycle begins anew.

Some days, I only go through the cycle once, and manage to make it through my entire day before having my hope crushed. Other days, like today, I go through this cycle numerous times, bringing myself to both physical and emotional exhaustion from the whirlwind of confusion. I go from chipper and optimistic to borderline catatonic in a matter of minutes at a time. In mere seconds, I've gone from well-composed interactive human and melted to the floor into a blubbering, sobbing, snot-dripping mass of self-pity and self-loathing. I feel like a worthless excuse for a human being.

I want to be happy.

I want to feel normal.

I want to go through a day where I don't feel like my mind is a recreation of the Salem Witch Trials, with me on the stake and all my self loathing surrounding the pyre, laughing and jeering and mocking my pain as I burn to death again and again. I want to be okay. I just want to be okay.


I feel this is the beginning
The beginning through the end
There’s nothing left to fear now
So watch me close as once again you


In the days since my last post, I've made some changes to my living arrangements. At the time of my last post, I was camped out on the couch in the family room of my basement, with an assortment of miscellaneous distractions surrounding me. The room had become my surrogate cave because my actual bedroom had become a depressing black hole of doom with no possible way of making it from one end of the room to the other without severe injuries. In subsequent days, my family got so fed up with my camping that I was pretty well told that I would have to clean my room and sleep comfortably or sleep in the mess. Either way, I was being evicted from the couch. So my room was cleaned in the course of a whole Sunday, and is now clean enough to see the floor, open the closet, find things even.

I've relocated from the couch to my own bed, and while physically, I'm benefiting from being on a mattress instead of lumpy couch cushions, my nightmares persist, and if anything, they've gotten worse since the move. I hate that. I hate that I can't sleep without seeing the faces of everyone I've wronged, glaring at me and criticizing my imperfections even in my dreams.

I hate that right when everything started turning my way, the entire world started to crumble around me.

I hate that even now, I can't be glad that things have finally turned in my favor, I just keep sinking into myself and hating anything and everything. I hate that I can't even be properly sad any more, because being sad just makes me hate myself more, and acting sad causes my mind to go into a frenzy of more self-loathing. It's gotten to the point where I have to choose between going through vicious cycles of sadness and self-abuse or catatonic disinterest in the world.


Burn me alive
Set me on fire
And watch me die
Burn me alive
Watch me ressurect
Right before your eyes


There's a reason that In This Moment and Blue October tie as my two favorite bands, and there's a reason that I've been listening to so much of their music lately. Blue October is my sadness music, and In This Moment is my rage music, so being in my horrible cycles between sadness and rage creates this bizarre combination craving for the two voices. I wish that Justin Furstenfeld and Maria Brink could just create a hybridized vocal mutation that could satisfy my feelings without having to change my playlist every five seconds.

I've been a soupy mess of thoughts, despite my whirling tsunami of distracting behaviors. The other day, Victoria was saying how she was grateful to have finally gotten a moment to just think, and all I could say was "I'm jealous. I wish I could be so busy that I didn't have time to think, but even when I am busy, I can't stop thinking."

I keep thinking about all the things I could have done to prevent this. I keep thinking what I could do to change what has happened. I keep thinking what I would do if I was given another chance, and I keep thinking of how I'll most likely never be given that chance, and how I should just move on with my life. I keep thinking about how I don't want to get on with my life, because a part of me is just pitifully clinging to that small shred of hope that by some bizarre universal alignment, things might go back to the way they were.

I. Just. Keep. Thinking.

I can't stop it, it's like a wildfire in my head with an endless supply of fuel to burn and no firefighters on duty. Again and again I burn, inside and out. My motivations are running short, my dedications are faltering. I'm facing a critical virus that's eventually going to make me overheat and crash.


There’s no reason to cry now
There’s nothing to forgive
This suffering’s my blessing
The death of sin is how I live
Burn me alive
Set me on fire
And watch me die
Burn me alive
Watch me ressurect
Right before your eyes
Set me on fire
And watch me burn
Set me on fire
And watch me


Yet for some horrible, cynical reason, I almost enjoy the feeling of being caught between sadness and rage. I'd rather have this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach than feel nothing. I'm grateful for my emotional torment, in my own horribly sick way, because I know that feeling pain means I'm still alive, still breathing, still capable of progress.

I'm like that sick twisted kid on the playground who scrapes his knee and finds it hilarious to poke and prod at the bleeding wound. It's something that's completely new to me. In all the months of depression I've gone through in the past, I've never had the luxury of pain.

I've never had the opportunity to choose between the numbness and something else.

There was only ever just the numbness. But now, there's this, and I feel strangely grateful for it.

Despite all of it though, I'm just... tired. I'm tired of going through ups and downs all day every day, and not sleeping soundly, and being tormented by my subconscious every waking and sleeping moment of every day. I'm tired of being depressed. I'm tired of being incapable of living my life the way I want to because of my own pitiful inability. I'm tired of waking up every morning wishing that I could just roll over and sleep the rest of my life away.

I'm tired of being sad.


Burn me alive
Set me on fire
And watch me die
Burn me alive
Watch me ressurect
Right before your eyes


I don't know what it is, but something needs to change in my life. Be it location, occupation, sexual orientation, I don't know. I just know that right now, with my life the way it is, I'll be depressed for a really long time, with no real hope for survival, and I don't want that. Something in my life is keeping me from the future I want, and I don't know what it is, but I'm going to hunt it down and change it. Me. Just me, because relying on other people has gotten me nowhere.

I'm damn grateful for the support I have, but right now, support is all I can accept. I can't let myself be helped out of this. I can't let someone take me by the hand and say "here, Claudzie, this is the way out" because that'll just be a fast-track right back here to Square One. I can't let that happen, since Square One will always be where I burn...

I Gave You All - Mumford & Sons

Well, I told myself about two hours ago that I would be going to sleep, but the Hundred Songs part of me had other ideas. I had a wonderfully long and wildly emotional conversation tonight with the girl who by all means has helped me survive the last... long while. And... well, long story short, we have this post.

I've been listening to a wide variety of everything lately, and tonight, I heard this song, and I just... I had to pull up this derned blog and write about it, because that's just what I do.

I give you my sleepless post, I Gave You All, by Mumford & Sons. This post... is a thank-you. From a Cloud to her Sky... If ever he reads this, then may it help heal the hurt, for both of us. I never really got the chance to thank you for everything you did.

~Rip the earth in two with your mind~
~Seal the urge which ensues with brass wires~
~I never meant you any harm~
~But your tears feel warm as they fall on my forearm~

You told me some days ago that you were tired of shouldering the burden of our relationship. For that I thank you. Thank you for being strong when I was just a participant. Thank you for being a pillar when I was just a bird, there to perch whenever I felt like it. Thank you for letting me cry on you when I had no reason. Thank you for listening when I all I had were harsh words to say. Thank you for enduring where I was weak.

~But close my eyes for a while~
~Force from the world a patient smile~

Thank you for your endless patience with my insecurities and my frustrations and my grief. Thank you for being all you could be. Thank you for being so understanding when the words just couldn't pass my lips in the right order. Thank you for smiling when the only thing I gave you was a curt reply.

~How can you say that your truth is better than ours?~
~Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms~
~The blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home~
~If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won~

You told me once that you felt like I was icing you out. I thank you for staying close all the same. Thank you for trusting me when trust was the last thing I deserved. Thank you for patiently letting me be the worst I could be, though you made me want to be the best me. Thank you for laughing when I got all the punch-lines wrong in the crummy jokes I told. Thank you for telling me everything, even when I told you nothing.

~But I gave you all~

You told me a long time ago that you'd love me no matter what. Thank you for keeping that true through the best... and the worst. Thank you for being my shining star when I was skulking around in the dark. Thank you for playing me lullabies when I couldn't sleep, and showing me all the most beautiful music of the world. Thank you for teaching my soul to listen to words, not just beats.

~Close my eyes for a while~
~Force from the world a patient smile~

You told me that you wanted me to be strong. Thank you for letting me be. Thank you for making me stand on my own when I'd become too dependent. Thank you for teaching me what it is to need personal strength, and thank you for helping me be strong at the times when I had no strength of my own.

~But I gave you all~

 You often apologized for going out to spend time with our friends when I was home alone. Thank you for your concern. Thank you for the friendships. Thank you for introducing me to such wonderful people who make my life a wonderful place to be. Thank you for knowing the best of the best. Thank you for taking the time out of your evening to text your grumpy girlfriend when you were having a good time.

~But you rip it from my hands~
~And you swear it's all gone~
~And you rip out all I have~
~Just to say that you've won~

You used to wish me sweetest dreams, and I often didn't do the same. Thank you for staying true night after night after night. Thank you for being the angel of my sleep. Thank you for believing in me even when I didn't believe in myself.

~Well now you've won~

Thank you for everything. The good... and the bad.

I'm not going to pretend that this doesn't hurt, because it does. Every day is a struggle, and some days feel more fatal than others. Every day I try to remind myself what it is I need to be: independently strong. Every day, whether I admit it or not, gets a little bit easier to get through. I still have my moments of absolute blackness, where I curl up inside myself and just... cry, but they're becoming less frequent. Every day I get a little bit stronger, a little bit happier, a little bit more... and I hope to someday just be able to be happy on my own. And you may be feeling all sorts of awful about this whole situation as I am, and I'm sure my blathering doesn't help, but... thank you. If anything, thank you. You've taught me more about myself in our year and a half together than I learned in the whole eighteen years previous.

You gave me all, and I thank you.

Chameleon Boy - Blue October

I realize that it has been... months since my last post. Many, many months. So much has changed in the year since my last post that it hardly seems feasible to be able to write it all in a single sitting. Oh that I were able to just... write it all out as quickly as the words go rushing through my head; oh that the words would separate themselves from the Hundred Songs and quit tormenting me with their playful antics.

Oh that I were able to adequately transpose raw emotion into simple words.

I regret to say that my first post in a year isn't a pleasant one. Far from it, in fact. I wish that my return was one of sheer joy, pure excitement, or even one of nervousness or giddiness...

I find myself more and more dependent on the words of Blue October to get myself through the days of late. In the years since becoming the sequestered prisoner of depression and fighting to keep myself above the crushing waves of sadness, loneliness, and the sheer insanity of my own emotions, never has the Sea of Depression behaved as such a tempest, threatening to drown me once and for all beneath its fury. Not even the loving support of my friends and family provides me the buoyancy to keep my head above the water lately, and my guilt and grief over that just adds more stones to my ankles, dragging me to the seabed where even sunlight can't reach me.

With each day that passes, I grow more and more numb, slipping into the old routine: 
~wake up dreading the day 
~dress to deter the glances of passers-by 
~enter the eyes of people wearing a carefully crafted smile and a hand-tailored guise of confidence so as not to cause worry in the eyes of those who know me, and to create the illusion of a happy, normal girl
~exit the eyes of people with a guise of regret at the parting
~go to bed wishing nothing more than to not wake up in the morning
It's a routine I thought I had long since abandoned since rediscovering my heart's ability to fall completely, totally and undeniably in love with another human being. It's the routine that I built for myself after having my heart destroyed completely the first time, the routine that got me through four years of high school. It's the routine my depression built as a bubble of protection to keep me from reaching the seabed, and for years I hovered meters above the sands yet meters below the waves, bobbing back and forth between surface and seabed, waiting for something... someone... to dredge me up from the murky sea and show me what it was to be truly happy again. 

I've long debated which song to use for this post, since many have the ability to be the perfect lyrical base for this long-winded exposure of my numbness. I've considered Dream Theater's Wait For Sleep or Wither, Imogen Heap's Hide and Seek, even The Script's song Breakeven. Surely with the ocean comparisons I keep making, Blue October's Into the Ocean would be perfect. Titles from bands like Hoobastank and Blink-182 and *tinyshudder* Bruno Mars even made their way into my mental "Now Playing" screen. After hours of consideration and lyrical analysis within my muddled brain, I settled on a song at last.

My blogger homecoming song is one of the band which saved my life, Blue October. Its title, Chameleon Boy, more than adequately describes the pattern of behavior I've taken on in the last few weeks, blending my colors in with those around me to protect myself...

I changed my color for you
I shed my coat with caution
I lack the beauty you display
See here they are the bruises
And some were self-inflicted
And some showed up along the way

I suppose my rantings deserve explanation, and for some, the answer may come as a dismal disappointment. Some may be wondering, "What on Earth could bring her to such an emotional low? What traumatic, life-changing event has occured in her life to make her dread the morning? What could possibly destroy a human being so utterly?" The answer is not that I've had a close family member die, or that I've been diagnosed with a terminal disease, or that the structure of everything and everyone around me is unraveling at an inhuman pace. I've not experienced something that makes an entire family question its direction, or cause a change in daily life because the daily routine doesn't work any more... though I suppose to me it is. To me, this event has made me question the direction of my life, change my daily life, and it feels as though everything around me is unraveling. Enough suspense at this, then.

After what I define as the best year and a half of my life, I'm single again.

That's it. I'm no longer in a relationship. To most, it just means a changed Facebook status and the returned ability to shamelessly flirt with whomever I feel. To me, it's the end of everything sane. More experienced humans consistently tell me that everyone gets their heart broken at some point, and that life has a funny way of sorting things out in the end, that The One is still out there somewhere, just waiting to be found.

Funny thing is, I'd already found him. He was the first guy in five years for whom I was willing to change my colors and shed my defensive coat, opening myself up completely to him in a way I thought I'd lost the ability to. He had this... confidence about him. Socially awkward, yes, but ever so confident in his beliefs and thoughts and opinions, a beauty I so clearly lacked. I've never been good at expressing my thoughts, or my opinions; Hell, the fact that I have a blog is almost laughable. 

I was completely comfortable showing my emotional bruises to him; those I acquired by my own foolish design, and those I gave to myself by masochistic desire to just feel something again. It was a trait that I didn't know I had, the pure exposure. I never thought that I would have the ability to peel back all my bandages and just stand bare for someone to see.


So I nod my head
I'm ready for the world to see
The secret I kept here inside 
the man you thought I'd be
Slip into coma calm
The coma where I calm myself down
Here comes excuses why I let you down

In my mind, I am completely to blame for the breakup, though outsiders claim that it was a combination of many different factors that just couldn't come to support the relationship any longer. I blame myself because in the last several months, there was a forced distance. My year in the dorms came to an end, and I relocated myself to my hometown for what I swore would only be the summer. As the weeks went by, I became frustrated with myself and my relationship, because my mind wouldn't let me cope with the fact that I'd gone from being minutes from him, spending most days in his company studying, laughing, loving, and being happy... to being an hour's drive away again, seeing him once a week or less, and wishing for nothing more than to just be holding him close to me. I swore that it would only be for the summer, that at the end of three months, I'd be back in the same town as him, and we'd be back to our old sappy routine.

If only.

Life, it seems, has a cruel sense of humor, and denied me my return to happiness. I was unable to find a job in my love's town, and thus unable to find residence, and thus unable to return to school for the fall semester. I spent days crying to myself over it, wishing so hard to just be there with him, or have some way of seeing him more. My heart pined for him endlessly, and when I finally found employment in my hometown, my only goal was to save every penny so I could be back to him for the beginning of spring semester... I tore myself to pieces with frustration over being unable to change the situation at hand. 

I hated it. I hated myself for not being able to change it. I hated the loneliness. I hated only being content with text messages and not actually getting hugged or kissed goodnight. As I went along hating the separation, I started taking out my frustrations on him, something he didn't deserve. He was being the most supportive and loving boyfriend any girl could ask for, and I was spitting in his face because he couldn't drive up to see me on every whim. 

In the days preceding the breakup, I was... confused. I was so genuinely excited to see my love again, because we were going on a road trip to go see Nightwish, a band that by all means initiated our relationship in its own way, since one of our first conversations was based on his Seven Days to the Wolves shirt that he was wearing at the time. My confusion stemmed from having my ex in town on some self-initiated cross-country tour to visit all his old girlfriends, and on the top of his list was myself. I was confused because for the longest time, I didn't know whether or not he still had feelings, and I had this horrible deep-rooted attachment to him, because he was my first... the one who destroyed me the first time... the one who set The Routine in motion. I had been seeking closure with him for months when he finally came to town...

I made a mistake. I've made many mistakes, yes, but my biggest mistake was thinking that he was the one who could give me proper closure. The night before our road trip, I acted a fool and made mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake... each and every second spent with my ex was one giant black mistake, and with each mistake, my confusion grew. I wasn't sure any more if I wanted my relationship, if I wanted to be part of a relationship that wasn't fulfilling me as it used to, if I wanted to stay with my One. At the time, I really wasn't sure that he was The One, but in days since, there isn't a doubt in my mind. 

I went about my business the next morning, getting ready to go and see what I anticipated would be a glorious show. I tried so hard to forget about the previous day, and what mistakes I'd possibly made. My love picked me up from my home, and I was ever so excited to see him, though I didn't show it, because we had been arguing about my sister and her attendance on our trip and her incomplete planning. I ought to have kissed him repeatedly and thanked him so much for coming up to see me. But we went about our routine, the hugs and half-emotional kisses, packing the bags into the car and getting on our way. It was a pleasant drive, full of a Nighwish marathon, laughs, energy drinks and jokes and singing. We arrived at our destination in good time, making it to the venue with time to spare and wait in line.

I spent the time in the line standing away from him. We made the excuse that it was because we both had to pee, and embracing would cause our bladders to explode. I think part of him could see my frustration and confusion on my face and didn't know what to do with it, and really, all I wanted was to hold him close to me.

And then we got into the show, and I lost all my confusion. He stood behind me, protecting me from the crowd, and I looked up at him and just saw the life in him that I love so much. The life that just explodes out of him at a concert, the life wherein he loses all inhibitions and cares and is just... bright. At a concert, he loses his social awkwardness and is loud and raucous and excited and free and I looked at him and I felt my heart swell with love and joy and happiness and giddiness all at once. We sang along, I kissed him with passion, I embraced him with all the love I could, because I realized at that point that I wanted to save my dying relationship and that I could put up with the distance if it meant just seeing him, because at that moment I realized just how much I love him, just how much I'd be willing to die for him, to give him my all, to be everything he wanted me to be. I spent that evening in complete bliss, just wishing that I hadn't made the mistakes I'd made.

That night, we shared a sleeping bag, and I spent the night pulled close to him, hardly an inch of us separated from the other, and I slept happily. I ought to have kissed him to sleep, told him how much I loved him until the words couldn't come out any more, told him how much I cared, but instead, I slept, and in the morning, he went out for coffee alone, and I didn't join him, choosing instead to continue sleeping. Like a moron, I chose sleep over coffee with the man I love.

So we drove back to my hometown, and I smiled to myself for the love I had felt the night before... When we returned, my love helped me carry my bags inside, as he always did when we spent nights together. He greeted my family, said goodbye at the same time, and proceeded to walk me out. I stopped him on the porch, intent on explaining my epiphany to him and telling him how much I loved him. I started the conversation...

It all seems like a dream now... well more than a nightmare than a dream... the scene haunts my nightmares of late, making it difficult for me to make it through the night. "You know how when we're together, we're so damn happy, and then when we're apart, we always seem to fight? Well, lately, I've been considering the idea that we should take a break from one another, just a communication hiatus to clear our thoughts..."

And then it happened. He dropped the bomb... He spoke the words I thought I'd never have to hear again... He said the phrase that in an instant killed me and brought me back to life just to die again slowly... "I don't think a break is going to work. In all actuality, if that's how you feel, we should just break up now."

I couldn't help myself. I cried. I didn't have the strength to finish my statement. I didn't have the stability to tell him how I was feeling... I just... cried. I cried and whispered "This isn't what I wanted..." as he started to apologize and explain himself. And I cried, unable to finish my statement... "...but I realized last night how much I want to save this, and how much I love you, and how much I want to prove to you that I want to keep us going, and I've made some mistakes and I just hope that you can forgive me... because I love you so much..." and in a mess of tears and concert-sweat and blubbering, I kissed him, held him close for as long as I physically could, and then ran...


Stand by for another breakdown
Sound off the alarm
Is this the chameleon boy I swore I wouldn't become?
Chameleon boy
Chameleon boy

If there were anything I could change, I would change the way I treated him. I would have loved every day I saw him, passed every day between in hopeful bliss as I used to, made each and every moment count as if it were the last time we'd see one another, because I had no idea that I would have such a wonderful time and have everything wonderful just fall apart the next morning. I would have remembered the days when we first met, the days when we were giddy teens together just content to giggle and grin at one another.

I spent hours crying, some of which my mom supported me through, some my sister, some were my friends... I've cried so many tears in the three weeks since that day that were they collected in a container around me, I'd drown in a second. I've cried tears of regret, tears of anger, tears of loneliness, tears of sadness, tears of fury. I've thrown objects with no aim, I've slipped into my comatose state to try and calm Depression's tempest, spending hours and hours wrapped in a blanket on the couch, just staring off into space with no purpose to myself...

Don't get me wrong, the last three weeks have consisted of more than just moping. I've tried to get out into the world, spend time with friends, make progress toward getting over it... but in the twenty-one days since my heart died, progress is the one thing I lack. People always say getting over a breakup is like climbing a slope, that the sadness is only hard in the beginning, and as the days go by it just gets better as you get closer to the top. Not so is the case for myself... in days past, maybe, but this... this is different... This isn't some slope that I can work my way up with slow and plodding steps... normal people have the slope...

Normal people get to work their way out of it conventionally...

Normal people get to be happy again with just a little bit of perseverance to the top of the hill...

With depression, it's not so easy. I wish it was. I wish that I could just climb a hill and be over it. I wish that I could be like normal people and get over things in a traditional fashion... I wish I had the slope, but instead, I get the cliffside... it's a sheer, smooth surface, stretching endlessly in each direction, with no way out but a series of small notches barely big enough for fingers and toes. True happiness waits at the top, and all you have to do is climb up to the top and take off running. I've tried climbing out, I've struggled internally to climb that cliffside... each time I fall, and every time I fall, the hole I land in gets deeper, and the cliffside gets harder to scale... 

I feel trapped by my own sadness, chained down by my own insecurity, weighed down by my thoughts, where each and every one of them is a stone tied to my ankle. As the days go by the stones grow in number, the pit grows ever deeper, my feet grow closer to the sandy seabed where I'll surely be swallowed by the murk. I feel hopeless, helpless, and deep in my heart, I know there is little chance of my survival, because that ship which drew me from the depths of the sea is now sailing off toward better horizons, leaving me to sink... I know that my reaching the bottom is imminent, unless by some design, I can find a way out... a way back into his arms... a way back to happiness...

So now we've come upon the hardest thing I've ever done
It's telling you that I'm a mess
What sort of mess I mean
Is self-destructive gasoline
The kind that strips you of your best

I thought endlessly about how to explain myself to him... I thought for hours on how I could possibly make him see how much I'm hurting, how much I want us to just be happy again... I thought of what words I would say, what memories I would share, what stories I would tell, what regrets I would share, what apologies I'd make... In the end, I started writing it all out in a letter... page after page emerged from beneath my pen, just blathering and words and nonsense, all my feelings jumbled up into ink and letters and lines... I spent a week working on the letter, writing a little every day, making no sense to myself, trying with everything I had to pour my heart and soul into the pages, to convey my one and only wish... 

..."I wish we could be together again"...

I fought through rapid cycles of anger and sadness and regret, bringing myself to exhaustion day after day with only one thought in mind: no matter what, I will fight, because I've found True Love, and I've ruined it, and I need to fix this... Day after day, I wrote...

...and when the letter was done, I set my plans in motion, to get the pages to him, to make him see how I was feeling... in the year and four months we were together, my biggest problem was explaining my feelings to him, because I'd often say the wrong thing and stick my foot in my mouth without meaning to, but I had done my best to convey exactly what I was feeling on those pages of purple ink and tears...

Oh that I were able to transpose raw emotion into simple words...

And while I play instead
the way that most would end up dead
You sleep alone at home 
and wish that I was in our bed

With the letter done and my determination set, I made the plans, brought the trip together, made the drive down to my love's town, and with no real knowledge as to how it would end, I met him. Letter in hand, his sweater on my arm, a photo clasped in a locket around my neck, I went to him, and gave him the pages.

With this I'm telling you
My color changes back to blue
How do I ask you this?
Will you help me through?

He read them stoically. I sat anxiously, awaiting his answer, hoping with every fiber of my being that he would say yes and give me the last chance I would ever need him to give me...

Page after page... he read.

Minutes passed by in silence as he read my jumbled words, and as the minutes passed, my mind whirled, my fingers twitched, and all the while nearby there were children playing, laughing, screaming in joy. All the while I agonized internally... it was the most emotion I'd felt in all the days since the breakup, just pure anxiety and sadness and hope... so much hope. More hope than I think I've ever felt before in my life.

And then he put the pages down... looked at me and asked... "would you like me to respond now, or later?"

I told him to respond whenever he was ready... I wish I'd asked for a letter in return instead of sitting there in my emotional turmoil and letting him respond right off...

It... it hurts to remember the details... the sharp, angry look in his eyes as he denied me my wish. The number of times he said "no" escapes my counting abilities, and the tears ensued again... I tried so very hard to convince him, to make him see, to show him how sorry I am, to pour every ounce of love in my heart into every word I spoke in the hopes that somehow I could get through to him... each phrase he spoke was a knife into my already bleeding heart, until the phrase "not even an act of God could get me to give us another chance" plunged the final blade, and the pulpy remains of my strongest muscle fell to his feet.

Stand by for another breakdown
Sound off the alarm
Is this the chameleon boy I swore I wouldn't become?

So I slip into my chameleon state, blending into my surroundings as I used to. I keep the public eye drawn in any direction but mine. It's been a week since the letter passed from my hands to his, a week since my words became my downfall... a week since I lost hope. Part of me still hopes that someday, somehow, we can be together again, but with the days that go by, that flame dims and flickers, becoming a flickering candle on a dark windowsill.

Stand by for another breakdown
Sound off the alarm
Is this the chameleon boy I swore I wouldn't become?
Chameleon boy
Chameleon boy

As far as I can tell, the letter I poured my heart and soul into was futile... the pure and insane honesty I put onto pages has just meant my downfall, back into the pit at the base of the cliff. All my attempts at reconstruction have been met with failure, all my attempts at expressing myself to him have been met with resistance, sharpness, and I feel naught but despair. I am glad for the honesty I was able to give to him, the truth I exposed, the clarity of it all... I can appreciate at least that I was able to tell him the truth, that I made my mistakes, cheated, lied, failed as a girlfriend...

Oh that I were able to transpose raw emotion into simple words...

There is only sadness now, sadness and regret that I wasn't granted my one last chance. I understand that I have been given more chances than are deserved by most, dealt more emotional blows than most would take lightly... I've been a shit girlfriend. I've been the worst kind of girlfriend I could be, and now that I know just what I could have done to make it better, it's much too late to change...

I try to think of all the people I look up to
Or growing up who would I be?
Now the twisted part
Where did all my idols end up?
They all passed away
Passed away

I just try to get through my days, waking up with the simple goal of returning to my couch again. I can't sleep in my own bed, because I just feel alone, and sleeping with the cushion of warmth from the couch is the closest thing I have to sleeping next to someone. Each day is just the beginning of a cycle back to the couch cushions, back to Netflix and the internet and my pencils and paper and every distraction I can find.

To most, I'm sure, my sadness and rantings over this breakup just seems like fierce co-dependence. In all honesty, I really am codependent... I can't stand to be alone, I hate it even. I'd say I'm most comfortable with a loved one at my side, holding me close to them, and having lost the most comfortable side to lay by, I feel so empty without it.

I'm sorry my homecoming post isn't ever so happy, or jittery, or excited as it ought to. I'm sorry my first phrase wasn't "Hey, I just remembered that I had a blog, and I have had such a wonderful time lately that I just wanted to share it with the world!!!" and that instead of good news, all I have to share are the rantings and ravings of my broken heart and depressed mentality.


Stand by
Its chameleon boy
Stand by
Its chameleon boy
Chameleon Boy
I'm chameleon boy...
Chameleon boy... 


I feel like I should clarify, for honesty's sake. I'm grateful for all the support I've received in the last three weeks, from my family, friends... everyone. Were I able to, I would give a piece of my heart to each of them, gift-wrapped in gossamer and red silk ribbon, because they deserve it. They offer support to a drowning woman like a life-raft in the water, despite my inability to return to the surface... I really do care for everyone who is trying so hard to help me through this, and I'm just sorry that I'm too much of a Chameleon Girl to show it. It's the Chameleon Girl I swore I wouldn't become...