I just biked two miles &tried to get things cleared up in my head. I've been gone from this whole existence for two months, I knew returning would be both pleasant &bitter. Like real green tea, that I drink so much of.

I have a confession to make, for thirty days I did not write. I did not let my hand pick up a pencil in fear of flowing prose, I didnt write more than my name, the states &their capitals during a tutoring session, a grocery list &marks on my calendar. I went on the internet twice, all for college related purposes. I didnt write back to the fourteen letters I got, because I didnt know what to say, and more importantly, I didnt want to say anything. I wanted to wrap myself in myself &my family, and friends I've known my whole life.

I did things that I've never done before, and things that I've done, many, many times. I read large books, and I watched telivision with my best friend. I had some things that were so completely routine I couldnt help but love them. I babysitted &ran through sprinklers &never wore make-up or socks. And I found boys who promised to love me even though I never wore make-up or socks. I found that people were telling me that I laughed a lot, I found strangers stopping me on the street &complimenting me on my smile, I smile that I was unaware of. I went to the art musuem &stared at paintings.

I cried over those paintings, I sat infront of them &became hysterical until security guards, who didnt understand security issues, asked me if I was alright. Then I smiled in a manner that was softly hysterical. I jogged in the morning, when the sun was rising. I baked cookies, made pancakes, swam across lakes &hiked up hills. I only used ivory soap &I didnt condition my hair. My hair has never looked that beautiful.

And I danced. Oh, I danced so much, I danced in the street on the fourth of July. I danced in the rain at Cedar Point while others mourned not being four hundred feet in the air, at one hundred &twenty miles per hour. I danced to Italian horn music while old Italian women clapped, and their old Italian husbands played bacci.

And sometimes when no one was looking, I let myself write a little. But then I got very, very scared about the things that were coming out on paper. So I couldnt write anymore. For once in my life, I always did what was good, what was right. I did not make out with strangers, I did not get drunk daily or do anything reckless. Instead I did the cheek to cheek European kisses, I drank a lot of red whine &black russians, with my aunts &uncles &kids who arent kids anymore that I've known since I was a fetus.

I forgot a lot about high school, except in dreams that were not amazing, just exhausting. I had deep nightmares about everything. I prayed on my knees every night &every morning. I only cried over things that were not personal, paintings, lawyers, sitcoms.

I did not roll my eyes, but I did lose contact with contacts, and I am sorry for that.