The body you see comforts you how it's so soft and so sweet

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Sunday, April 10th, 2005
21:22 pm


Came across that picture on facebook a few minutes ago. The boy on the right is the most brilliant person I know, and I spent all of middle school and part of high school in love with him.

His name is Joe. Actually, it's Ruozhou. He's a student at MIT. When I was twelve years old, he won first place in Mathcounts, at the national level. He was a year ahead of me in school. We were teammates. Of the four of us, I think I was the most removed. I wasn't as funny as Franco. I wasn't as smart as Adri.

Princess Leia was the only girl in which I saw him take interest. He wanted a cutout from her scene as Jabba's slave. I remember riding on the back of the bus, watching him in the seat across from me as he paged through a catalog of Star Wars merchandise. My body would never look like hers, and I'd never be as smart as he was.

I think he may have known I liked him. I didn't hide my feelings very well. Adri knew. I created a trick account once to e-mail him with a confession of my feelings. I don't think I ever followed through on the promise to reveal myself after the first couple of letters.

I couldn't.

The year he won nationals, we spent 30 hours together every week for a month. As a team, of course. He was so funny and serious, and hell if I'm not feeling flutters just remembering. Every conversation I ever tried to hold with him was awkward, uncomfortable. We walked home together once, by accident. His house was closer to the school than mine, but in the same direction. He was so caught up in whatever he was saying that he kept walking to me. I didn't think my heart would ever soar so high again.

And there he is, looking more beautiful than I've ever seen him.

current mood: nostalgic
current music: Wishing Heart -- Lisa Loeb

5 grow out of you | what's so buried in me

19:31 pm
Is it ever time for this week to end.

Stress is constant, fluid, tiding. If it's not one thing, it's another. You think you're in the clear and then you're not. You think you've made it through and then you see something else looming. The clouds part only to reveal another grey sky.

But who says grey isn't beautiful? And who says the sun can't shine on a grey day? It is, it can, it does.

My dad and I passed a grocery store on our way to breakfast this morning. I never even knew it existed. I pass that place several times a week. The store is set back from the road several feet. The building is small, dirty, unattended.

We saw a car turning in. No one there is anyone, my dad said. Everyone there is low-life. He frequently categorizes certain people as low-life. Only, he spends time in some of the same places as these people. He earns the same sort of living. He's been charged with the same crimes.

So what sets him apart?

I don't really know. Something does, though. It took me a long time to have respect for my father, but now I have quite a bit of it. He's not one of those people.

Something else he said upset me, though. I was dropping him off, and he asked if I need any money. I reminded him about the remainder of the amount he's supposed to be giving me for my mom, and he said he couldn't give me any more than $20 today. Normally that wouldn't bother me, but I know he had $100 more in his wallet. He said, I have to buy something. What is he buying? What costs $100 that he can carry on his bicycle? That he needs cash for?

Knowing his habits, I don't want to think too much about the answer to that. Unfortunately, I haven't stopped thinking about it all afternoon. I wish he'd have specified. I wish it were likely that he was buying something innocent.

This must be a test. I say that I am finally at peace with my father's nature. But if I'm not comfortable with even the suggestion of a threat, am I really at peace?

current mood: exhausted
current music: Forever -- Vertical Horizon

what's so buried in me

Friday, April 8th, 2005
22:36 pm
Ugh. Feeling claustrophobic and I can't even talk about it.

I love that my mom and I are close, but sometimes I start feeling a need for personal space. I can't explain it.

This week, I've felt suffocated. It's like I have nothing safe, nothing I can count on to be private. She has a journal now. Most of her entries mention me. Sometimes she leaves comments on my entries. She read some of Kristin's fic and some of mine. She sent Kristin a just because e-mail the other day. At night, sometimes, in the middle of the night, she opens my bedroom door, to check on me. This morning she came into the bathroom while I was getting ready for school. She wanted to ask if I was mad at her. If I don't let her kiss my cheek or hug me when she wants, she pouts. If I do it more than once, she starts asking what's wrong.

It's too much.

I'm so frustrated I broke down into tears tonight. I wasn't laughing at my mom and Ali, so they thought they'd dump some flour in my hair. When I was done washing the flour out, I came back downstairs to see Ali had closed all of my windows on the computer and taken it over. Including the long entry I'd been working on for two hours about how frustrated I already was.

I went upstairs and folded myself into the armchair in my closet.

I can't let this get to me. Can't let this get to me. Can't let it get to me.

[ETA: I just posted this in part of a comment to Kali's latest entry -

She won't leave me alone at all. She doesn't care when I ask her not to touch me. I hate it so much. My neck is sensitive, it doesn't know when it's family or a lover kissing it - it just recognizes the feel of lips. I told her and she said, I gave birth to you - meaning it doesn't matter what I want. It doesn't matter. My body isn't even safe. I don't even have control of that.

I want to say, I am not your property. I have to follow your rules, but I am NOT your property. Let me have my fucking self. Let me have me.]

current mood: uncomfortable
current music: Wake Up Exhausted -- Tegan and Sara

what's so buried in me

Thursday, April 7th, 2005
11:43 am
Hell fucking yes.

I got my World Lit test back (keep in mind this is a literature class, a literature discussion class and that I haven't been IN class, haven't had ANY discussion) today.

And what grade did I get?

Ninety-four percent. Hell yes.

And the essay question of which I was so proud?

"An outstanding response, Samantha! Excellent insight and interpretation!"

current mood: ecstatic

what's so buried in me

Wednesday, April 6th, 2005
18:11 pm
Has anybody seen Amadeus?

Someone outside my house just did THE laugh.

current mood: unnerved
current music: Wise Up -- Aimee Mann

2 grow out of you | what's so buried in me

17:35 pm
Browser? You can quit closing on me, any day now.

Seriously.

current mood: irritated
current music: You Do -- Aimee Mann

what's so buried in me

16:26 pm
Want some poetry?

In which I attempt this phone post business over again.

current mood: calm
current music: Dried Sea -- Yann Tiersen and Shannon Wright

what's so buried in me


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