I've made a decision. I've been trying to figure out how to deal with all this (all this being what happened last night, with me crying and us generally being quite unhappy with each other and me sitting on the edge of the bathtub with the light on and my eyes closed until I could calm down enough to go to bed). I didn't know if I should write about it here. I wanted to call someone and ask for... something. I wanted to talk to Curtis about it when he wasn't so tired. I wanted to write things down for myself. So I'm writing here, because I feel like it's the closest to the right thing to do, but it still doesn't really feel right.

See, if I talk to a person, there's the possibility that said person will either be mean or be really sympathetic, and both options would probably make me cry, and I really don't want to cry. Whereas if I write here, the worst that could happen would be that someone would email me and either be mean or be really sympathetic, and I think I could mostly ignore that.

So here's my decision. I need everything to be okay. So everything's going to be okay. I was thinking about the bad thing that happened recently with squib, and then what happened later. Problems. Probably better not to deal with them when you're so upset. I just don't want to wait until the same thing comes up again before dealing with it.

Here's the thing, in brief, expurgated form. I started crying last night when we were in bed. I was sad about leaving (I'm leaving tonight) and I was upset because I felt like we'd been unusually cranky with each other that day. I was wondering what I could do to change it, what I was doing wrong. And it just felt too much like the way I used to be with Jeff. I don't really know how to verbalize it.

Oh, who cares. Who needs the blow-by-blow. What really upsets me is that I am so afraid of feeling echoes of the bad times in my life that I run screaming in the other direction whenever I start to feel one. It's so hard to strike a balance between not making the same mistakes that made me miserable before and making myself miserable because I'm so afraid.

The other thing that upsets me is that I think Curtis was dealing with the situation as an echo, too. I don't know any of the girls who have cried to him before... I don't know how they acted, but I can guess. I used to cry because I wanted sympathy. I remember vividly running out of the room after a fight with my parents to go lie in bed and cry... and when I heard one of my parents nearby in the house, I'd cry a little louder, hoping they would come and comfort me. I've done it before and I don't do it now. Ever. I am not a little girl. If I want something, I'll say so or I won't say anything... I'm not going to launch some manipulation scheme. And you can't change me by ignoring me. Nobody can.

A few weeks ago, maybe a month ago, Emily told me she was kind of mad at me because I didn't listen to her as well as I should. She was right. I knew about the problem, but I wasn't dealing with it, and I'm glad she said something flat-out rather than trying to make me guess, and I think (hmm... I hope) I'm getting better. Sometimes I need to be told things even if they seem obvious... even if I know them, sometimes I need to be told. But I pretty much never need to be told more than once.

So. If I do something that drives you nuts, just tell me. Even if you think I already know. Don't argue with my semantics. Don't try to condition me not to do it. I'm not a dog, and I'm not a child.

Please.

I shouldn't be writing this here, should I.

I just want to get this over with and out of my head.

I'm a fool sometimes. I say all the wrong things. I have thoughts that I think are good, and then I can't get them out right. I broke up with Emily by email. Last year, when I finally told Jeff how I was feeling, it was by email. I have this tendency to do all my hard work in writing. I probably won't get things right the first time.

Have you ever hated what's inside you so much that you just wanted to rip it out? To split your chest open neatly like a butcher and pull out everything inside? Have you ever wanted to be small and flat and not carry anything inside you? To lie on your back and waste away until only bones were left?

It sounds grisly. And when I write it down, it sounds sick.

How do you get thoughts out of your head?

God, why can't I just resign myself to the fact that I'm a person, and people make mistakes. People do colossally stupid things all the time. They hurt each other and they have awful thoughts and they do awful things. I've been feeling like I did so many stupid and wrong things in the past few years that I'd used up my quota and now I wasn't going to do any more. But I am. Everybody is doomed to make bad decisions until they die. You never reach a day when you're suddenly wise and you know what to do. You only think you've reached that day, and you're wrong. Always.

Does love fix this? Does even good love hurt? I think it does. I think the more fiercely I love someone, the more easily that person can hurt me. I want to be the perfect lover. I want to be the kindest, most considerate person Curtis has ever known. I never want to get in the way. I never want to make him angry. I never want to disappoint him. I want to understand everything, and to explain everything so well that he can understand everything about me.

And it's not possible, and it never will be. And I think that's one of those things I knew before, but didn't believe. And now I've told myself. Maybe now it will sink in.

The thing is that you have to keep trying even though you know you'll fail.

It's like religion, like what they used to tell us in the youth group. Everyone sins. There's nothing you can do about it... nobody is pure. Yet you have to spend your whole life trying to be pure, even though it's impossible. Then Christ makes you pure. Maybe that's what's so attractive about Christianity. All you have to do it join up, and suddenly the impossible is possible. One day you will be perfect.

I'll never be perfect. I'll never be the way I want to be. I'll never be pure... I'm obsessed with the idea of purity, of sanctity. And I have to give it up.