You know, there isn't much I keep to myself.

For example, I have no problem telling you that my nose hair clipper has been broken and, because of this, up until tonight, my nose hairs were just begging for a French twist. See? There isn't much I keep to myself.

That's why I find it so odd that I'm having trouble writing about what happened last night. I can't seem to put into words how I feel (which, of course, isn't going to stop me from trying). I feel like things have been...righted? Did I really even feel wronged? A month or so ago, certainly. But I haven't felt that way in a while. I really wasn't feeling much of anything. Maybe that's what it is. I'd managed to expunge almost everything I felt towards him. Friends have commented on how well composed I was considering what I went through. Composed? Maybe. Desensitized, more likely. Even after the last week we spent together - the week that went so well - I didn't allow myself to feel much of anything. I'd felt so much already.

I let myself feel again last night. It hurt. It was wonderful. He made me feel again last night.

He made me feel again last night.

That sentiment kind of startled me just now.

Does any of this really change anything? Absolutely and not at all. Am I getting on a plane and hopping coasts once again? Fuck me, no. But this was just what I needed to forgive him - really forgive him. I thought I'd already forgiven him. I'd really just accepted him and all that he'd done. That's very different and very not okay.

My brain has decided to stop working now. I'm feeling a little Rose Nylund - not much going on up there. I'm tired and I have to get up early to catch my bus into the city. I know I couldn't have been any more vague about all this had I tried, but until I get even a vague idea of what's going on, that's all there is to say.

Posted by Taylor on January 14, 2005 @ 10:51 pm

I've been trying to get to New York

for roughly 3 weeks now. Every time I make plans something falls through. I'm beginning to wonder if maybe the city doesn't want me back. Maybe it remembers me from the summer and wasn't impressed.

Or maybe it's just trying to protect me. Maybe New York knows just as well as I do that I might not be ready for the memories quite yet. It might know that its streets and its people and its buildings will all carry memories of him.

New York must know, however, that it also carries closure. It must know that it used to stand for so much more to me. It used to be about other streets, people, and buildings.

I want it to be about other streets, people, and buildings again.

Posted by Taylor on January 14, 2005 @ 10:50 am