Alessandra: 2

I've always believed in love. Whether it was meant to break your heart, whether it was meant to piece it back together again, whether it was meant to kill you, or make you stronger. I always believed in it. I believed in it's power, it's unwavering spirit, in it's ability to withstand every thing and anything that may try to knock it down. But then I realized I was a dreamer and that maybe that's just my version of love.

He ran. He ran when things got serious six months ago and he hasn't stopped running since. He claims he has now but who knows if he really did. He lied during those six months, he was dishonest, and hurtful just to cause pain, he was a beast of a person- wanting to make me feel agony and anguish just so he could feel anything at all again.

We promised each other we'd never do that. He did. Every thing we promised we'd always do, he didn't do any of it. He wasn't there when he was supposed to be, when I needed him to be. How do you go on from there? Can we go on from there?

He wants to fix us now too, just like I've been saying I've wanted to for so long. He admits all he's done wrong and that he wants to try and make things right, he knows it'll never be like it was ever again. I don't know if my heart can take the hit. I don't know if I can withstand it all. I don't know if we can ever really bounce back from it, enough to try again.

That breaks my heart because I knew if we did try again, we'd work. If we wanted it to, it'd happen, the fireworks are still there every moment we look in each others eyes, we touch one anothers hand, every time we hear each others voice for the first time in a few days even, the fireworks go off like it's the Fourth of July and yet he ignores it, I ignore it. We have to fix us first. But what if fixing us is admitting there are fireworks? But he doesn't want to. He wants to date her. He wants us to try to fix us and be friends first and go from there. I don't know. I don't know if I can do any of this.

I know every time he says he loves me, my stomach aches, I get nauseous and dizzy and my eyes instantly fill up with tears. I wonder how we can ever really bounce back, if one of us is trying to control how much bounce we are given? We learned long ago we couldn't be controlled, us, together, we were the one thing that exceeded all definitions and it's what we loved about us, that when we tried to control it, it broke down. Now he's trying to control it in one way or another and I'm worried, so worried it makes me anxious day and night.

But I can't let go, I just cant. Because in my gut it still is telling me he's it for me. In my gut it's still telling me to hold onto him as much as I can, to put myself through this even though sometimes its so hard I can't breathe, because he's worth it even if I don't see it right now.

I always listen to my gut and it's never taken me in the wrong direction. My gut is what took me to him in the first place. I love him so much that my hands shake thinking about it and I just want him to wrap me in his arms and promise to protect me from everything wrong in my world like he used to.

But how can he protect me from himself?

Carlina: 3

I believe in a higher power, but I'm not sure that makes me a Christian. Or Jewish. Or Muslim. Or Catholic. Or Buddhist. Or religious in general. I don't exactly know what to believe anymore. I know my doubts about certain aspects of Christianity that have really hindered my regards to make it priority in my life. More then ever I'm finding myself more or less annoyed by what it even means to be a Christian anymore. Especially around the holidays.

I firmly do not believe that you have to follow one avenue of religious practice to reach a higher salvation. I like to think moral and humanistic goodness far outweigh any belief in one single practice. I don't like the idea of evangelism, especially to areas around the world that have their own cultures and traditions. I like that there are differences between us, it's what makes us who we are. Just because we choose to follow one specific path doesn't make it exclusively right.

I would never admit this out loud to my family. They aren't outlandishly religious or judgmental, but I also think (namely my father and grandparents) would have a hard time accepting my movement away from the Methodist church.

I grew up in the church, I'm still a part of the church, I still get things out of going to church. I do love the community aspect and you do get the sense of family sometimes. But like any family you also have politics and arguments and ridiculous people that probably shouldn't even be there. But that will always be present, and it's just human nature and that's a naturally thing I suppose.

Do I call in agnosticism? Do I tell people I'm more spiritual than religious? I to set my Facebook profile to TBA? Does it even need to be labeled?

Maybe this doesn't matter. Maybe it never really did. All these wars and murder and strife and for what? To prove a point? To stick fervently to your guns? Do you even know what you're fighting for in the first place?

There really is no time for war. I don't believe violence is the answer to any problem. I never really have. You might call me a hippie or a disillusioned pacifist but words, for me, will always be stronger and more efficient then guns.

Religion shouldn't be something that elicits such intense anger in peoples hearts. It taints the very nature of religion itself and I for one, will choose to not stand for it.

Carlina Music Post: 2

Alessandra Music Post: 2

I have yet to find the words to describe how I feel, to describe what's going on in my head. I am almost there, I can feel it. The tipping point is coming. But until then, for now, all I have, is others words and music to heal me.

Alessandra Music Post: 1

Carlina Music Post: 1

Carlina: 2

It just came out of nowhere. And it keeps coming out of nowhere. I probably shouldn't be writing this here. I probably shouldn't be writing this at all. It's too much for anyone to handle. Too much for me to handle. But alas, I am alone and it needs to be said. I'm sorry if it scares you, I don't want to frighten you. Help will be here on Monday. I won't hold anything back.

Certain things, certain actions lead my mind places that they should be. Putting on a scarf, shaving my legs with a razor in the shower, taking a vitamin... I don't even mean to think this way, I swear I don't. It just happens and I can't stop it. Like a moving train that's coming towards me a 100mph with a ton of force. Even the friction between the wheels and the rails can stop it.

But it's starting to scare me, especially when I'm alone.

And then once I come to and the realization hits, I panic and break down. Crying and crying. My breathing gets fast, my heart feels too big for its chest cavity. I ask myself out-loud what the fuck I'm doing. I wish I had the courage to pick up the phone and call the psychologist's office.

It's not pride that's stopping me. Or, I don't think it's pride. I just don't want to bother anyone. I know, I know. I'm sorry but that's how I feel.

I feel like it's too much for anyone to handle. I don't want to make it bigger than it is. I don't want someone to blow it up to something it's not.

I scare myself. I'm scared of my thoughts. I'm scared on the man sitting on my left shoulder.

But tomorrow is new, you know? There's something promising and light about a new morning. The daybreak is so symbolic to me, spiritual,... metaphoric, even. I know it's just a gravitational reaction of forces and tilting and a magical earth nonsense... but to me it's like a restart button. It's like a new day, a new chance.

Carlina: 1

It's exactly 2:49am and I'm sitting here on my bed, listening to the rain. I just got back for school, stuck in a lab for 7 hours studying for a final tomorrow (or today as it were). Sometimes I really do believe teachers are the most narcissistic, self-asorbed people on the planet. Or just really sadistic. But either way, I have a head full of fossils and rocks that is relentlessly bouncing around up there, and I'm unable to think of much else.

I had every intention of staying awake and writing a paper that due in the coming days... but now I know I was being a bit too presumptuous and need to just get some rest. Today has been a hard one for me. Not physically really, just emotionally.

I only have one class on Monday's, which gives me a prime opportunity to settle in and get some work accomplished. But not today, the first day after Thanksgiving. My feet dragged and my eyelids drooped. I felt like I was lugging around 30lbs on my back the entire day.

During my only Monday class (statistics) I feel my heart begin to race, blood pressure rise, breath starting to shallow... panic setting in. I couldn't believe the amount of work she was laying on us. On top of everything else I have to complete I just... I had (and still have) no words. Corrections and studying and extra assignments and homework. When is enough, enough? Clearly it's never.

Like I said, teachers are sadists.

After class I headed to the counseling services. I have been talking myself up into going for almost half of the semester, each time before completely chickening out. But not this time... things have gotten worse... much worse then I probably imagined and more then I could handle.

So I walked in and they sat me down to do the electronic paperwork and assessments to fill out. Once those were completed I sat in the waiting room and waited to be called back for an assessment by a psychologist. After what seemed like 5,000 years, I was finally called back.

The therapist gave me the confidential "except for... " run down that you normally get at a therapists office (is it sad that I've have this spiel given to me several times?) and then started chipping away at my issues and establishing what's going on inside my head. I talked for a bit about everything that was going on and how I was feeling about everything. Once I finished up she informed me that I had scored in the 98th percentile for depression and scored "really high" on anxiety, emotional distress, and eating issues. "Everything but alcohol abuse" she said. It's a wonder that's not up there too.

I'm not exactly shocked, but I didn't really thing it'd be as bad as it appears it is. But the physical alarm and worry I detected in her voice was enough to sober any ideation of a faulty assessment in practice. Nope, that's just where things stand right now.

She suggested individual counseling, group counseling for social anxiety, and to see psychiatrist "asap" for medication. Which I'm going to do tomorrow at some point.

I don't really know what to say but... here we go again. Same old issues, same old game. Will anything actually change? Will I actually change?

Alessandra: 1

I wish I had more interesting things to say. I wish the things rambling in my mind were of more intrigue to people. Watching him do what he does and make it seem as though I don't care...it's the greatest acting ever. Do they give Oscars out to heartbroken brunettes for carrying on without eating a pint of Ben & Jerry's a day? They ought to. They ought to give a statuette made out of hard shell chocolate over ice cream sprinkled with Valium. That would be quite an award worth getting. It'd make all the heart ache and pain feel a little less horrible. Well, until that Valium wears off.

I've found refuge in music again. Playing, singing. Piano or guitar. Mostly Taylor Swift, Miranda Lambert, Alanis Morisette and Kelly Clarkson songs lately. What can I say? Some girls just know heartbreak well. Dear John has been hitting home, hard. So has Last Kiss. That album unfortunately is hitting home for so many things that I don't quite know how I feel about it. I have been so nervous to tell my doctor all day that I think I need higher anxiety medication, how twisted is that? I am anxious about talking about my anxiety medication. I must do it though, as not only is this very uncomfortable all day long but I must face facts. I'm just not better yet. I'm not okay right now. And that's alright. I have to become okay with not being alright, with being a little broken.

I've been getting bill upon bill from the hospital. It's not enough I have cancer and chronic illness but let's throw thousands of dollars at her. One of my stays which was less than 12 hours is mover six grand. Another one of my stays that was over 48 hours, cost two grand. Logic please? Apparently loads of drugs and lots of scans in one, not so much in the other. The way the United States handle their healthcare and the entire system here is just complete rubbish. I can't believe they are so rich and so dumb.

I feel as though I'm sitting around, moving through life, waiting for things to happen. I have so much coming down the pipeline that I am really looking forward to, going back to school for another degree with my best friend which includes moving, and yet I am stuck on pause for awhile. It gets me frustrated. I want to move, I want to breathe and I want to live. I almost feel as though I'm one of those dogs on the leashes that roll out you know? They run and run and run and think they're free then suddenly they're jerked back because the spool is empty and theres no more length left so they're stuck there, a foot away from the perfect stick.

Yup, my life is kind of like that. At least the pieces of my heart are slowly starting to put themselves back together enough that I can occasionally sleep at night.