I cry and cry. . . yet no one thinks to dry my tears. I am alone.

Epiphany week strikes again. I have finally figured out my life, and I still hate it.

I still want to die. How can I face my peers when I hate myself? How can I love others when I am still struggling myself? Yet I do. I still strive on.

I have lived my life in the hopes that I can save Dominic and Ben some of the pain that I have suffered, but that is all lost. They have suffered other pain, and they are still along their own paths. Dominic broke his arm and I could do nothing to aid him or stop his pain, it was completely out of my hands. That is how it is usually. I just pick up the blame. Others really do have the control.

I love Matt. I talked to him, and we hung out a little bit this week. We really are meant to be. The worst part, everyone hates us being together, and while we say it does not matter, it really does.

“I've waited all my life to cross this line
to the only thing that’s true
so I will not hide
its time to try anything to be with you
all my life I've waited
this is true” –Ryan Cabrera

He is back at West Point, and now I realize, it is still not “us.” It is not “our future” it is “our futures.” However, we both know how much we love each other, and in the end, it is not whether or not we end up together, but whether or not we gave it a fair shot. If our story really is “The Notebook” then I will be there, in New Mexico, as his Noah, waiting with a career and hope. If not, then I will move on and accept the invitation to his wedding to someone else.

As far as that goes, I have no idea what may happen. I know that for now, I do not have a boyfriend, nor am I trying to win one. I have too much to worry about.

I am failing English. Yep, that is pretty interesting.

In other news, Speech and Debate changed a lot of things about me, and this weekend has also changed me a great deal. I have decided on Creighton, I hope my Dad will help me with payments. I am pretty tired because I have not slept well for a week, less than four hours every night, but I had not told anyone. It did not matter though because I have been catching up during Theology class. Ian and my fish spawned, I have been up late every night watching that happen.

I also realized that there is no one I can count on. When I cry, I cry alone. When I fall, I must pick myself back up. I want to die. I was slipping from the edge and I thought someone, ANYONE, would catch me, but no one did. I am alone. No one can hear my screams. No one will ever be there for me, because by the time someone figures out that I need to be saved, I will have already found the strength to fight myself.

This brings me to my next point. I want to be famous; Nay, I will be famous. I want to be rich and well known. I want to be a great author, so that no one can deny my awesome gift for writing. I will be so famous that everyone who reads my words will be haunted by them. They will be propelled, motivated, to know me, but they never will. Anyone who tries to reach me will find themselves beyond my touch. I want to lose weight, I want to be beautiful so that men will look at me want to know my touch. They will love me from afar, but never be able to get close. I want to be seen as an amazing work of God’s art, so that people will wish they could say “I knew her before she was. . .” But no one will get the honor. For you see, while I will know many people and be there for them, I will trust people, as Ian would say, “no further than I could throw them.” They will wonder what goes on in my mind, what I have seen, what I would motivate me so highly, but it is simply raw revenge. By the time I am famous, even this dinky little blog will have ‘disappeared’ so that anything that I might have been at one time will be no more. My family, friends, even my spouse, will know about as much about me as the next average Joe that walks up.