Saturday, June 3, 1995

"I'm given to muttering stupid phrases like, 'all I want is you,' when that's so untrue. I want so much more than you. I want me. I want a life. But I do want you to be a part of that life." -- my head. I realized I was talking to myself in my closet as I hung up my overalls and decided to write it down.
I'm thinking journals like this one are sort of like dreams -- they are the essence of oneself, and they never lie about you. Or, they try not to. Letters are for other people, even though they express you. Although some I wish I could keep, and too often do, because they are so honest and so much about me. I have a letter to Aaron in my pocket. I wish I could have given it to him.
I was lying in the back of his mother's red convertible, my legs curled an my long "Juliet dress" wrapped over them, my arms buried into my chest and under my head. I peeked up at the sky, all I could see above the horizon that the car formed were phone lines and occasional rooftops. Gradually I lost complete track of where I was, my entire body crumpling into my head or feet as we turned corners. All I was aware of as I closed my eyes against the burning, glinting sun, were the crackling strobe lighted patterns on my tie-dyed eyelids. And for a moment, I became very happy -- or at least content. I felt peaceful for a moment. But then the glances up at the back of his neck, his red hair turning up under the corners of his baseball cap, reminded me that we were not going to be driving in the sunlight, Dinosaur Jr. playing on the radio, forever. Not even for hours. We rounded another corner, my neck crumpling as my head was pressed inward with centrifugal force, and slowed, and came to a stop. I closed my eyes tighter against the bright colors in my eyelids, but a shadow crossed, making them darkened orange, and a voice said, "Sarah, we stopped. We're here." "No shit," I wanted to mutter, but instead cracked open my eyes and climbed out into the grass. It is 12:26 tomorrow, and I am feeling very lonely. I attemded a smoky gathering in Adonis's attic. I was uncomfortable nearly the entire time. Emotionally, not physically. Except at one point, when I stood up to dance with Toni. For the most part, I felt selfconscious, because the room was dimly lit, but lit enough that everyone could see, and there were not a whole lot of people to distract those who were there from our bouncing dance. At a few seconds though, the music found me and I was at east. I'm not sure I remember the seconds photographically, but I remember the music and how when it stopped, our faces collapsed into smiles and I felt, for a second, a little happy.

The night I went to the Junction and Adonis's. Also the day I went to Aaron's graduation party.

june 02, 1995
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