April 2001

Ok so I didn't write an article last month and to the three people that read my column regularly I apologize. My mind was running in circles with all sorts of work and emotional stuff that I just didn't get it in on time. This one is running really close to the deadline as well but what are ya gonna do, right?

April, the dear month of my birth. I'll be 19 soon and can I just say that feels really old. I remember thinking that 17 was so old and so far away. Now it feels so far behind me. Can I go back to high school? Just for a few minutes I mean... Instead of getting in my car and running away from campus to go hide behind my camera down at the waterfront for a few hours I'd like to go back and sit in the hallway and know who I am. I'm tired of hiding behind a camera or a journal because I just can't freaking deal anymore.

I am lonely. That's a simple sentence in most respects except that it took a lot for me to write it and I still can't say it out loud. Here's the deal folks: I have the emotional capacity of a paper clip. My roommate says I'm only lying to myself saying that. She likes my poetry. She likes my pictures. The problem is that I hide behind those things. It makes life easier for me. I know that great love and accomplishments come along with great risks. For the first time in my life I can honestly say that risk part frightens me so much I don't want to move. (God save the people around me. Bless their souls. I am not easy to live with right now.)

The rest of my life is in order. I'm doing great in school. I've made some new friends. I'm finding out what I'm good at and what really interests me. I'm trying to get involved. But at the same time I've stopped trying to hide things from myself by not thinking about them. Maybe I'm thinking too much but I honestly didn't think a life this good could feel so empty. These are the reasons I gave up on love. I wanted more. I wanted to go to college. I wanted a me without anyone else. Maybe I went about that the wrong way. I have all the things I sat on the beach dreaming about at home.

Now I'm lonely.

The other thing is that I really wish I had some monumental thing to say here. I've been given a chance to be heard (or read), and I want to make someone feel like they aren't alone. That's the only reason I read, the only reason I write, because it helps me to feel that way. I wish I could share that.

Have a great "it's almost spring" month, and think of me as I bravely get up to read my poetry in public for the first time for a celebration of women, as I wait the arrival of my first published work, and as I turn 19. I'll be thinking of all of you. Maybe next month I'll have something monumental to say.

Until then,



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