Whoa, 2.5 months later...time flies, not necessarily always while you're having fun; more a case of trying not to notice the passing of time at all, as I make statements in my head, such as, "It has been a year since I ______" and "I haven't gone to _______ in 9 months." Those immense amounts of time weigh so heavily on my shoulders and mind, and thus, I try to ignore them. In the same away, immense amounts of thoughts and feelings weigh me down to the point that I can barely breathe. I try to cast those off as well. Sometimes I don't know why I stop writing, here and elsewhere. I've stopped the literal process of writing in a notebook and replaced it with occasionally typing out thoughts in text files and word documents. The small comfort there is that I'm not choosing to type out thoughts because a computer is "better" than a notebook, but because the thoughts are racing so quickly, so forcefully, that I know I can purge faster by typing. In the past few years and maybe always, that is what writing has been: purging. Creativity and quality are of little concern; it is about discarding the disturbing, dense, pressing and DEpressing thoughts that fill my mind to the brim.

That is the convoluted way of saying that I am still writing. I am writing positive and happy things over at http://aliciakachmar.com, all true and sincere, but sometimes I don't feel like that is really ME writing there. It is a life that would be very fulfilling had I chosen it. It is a way to not twiddle my thumbs, a life that I can truly find fulfilling for long stretches of time, until I realize, wait a minute, this is not what I want to be doing.

The less positive things go elsewhere, or simmer in my head.

I find myself still drawn to musical lyrics in an intense way. I feel very capable of expressing myself, outloud and on paper, but there is something powerful and empathetic in a musician's lyrics when they hit the nail right on the head. I listen to a few sentences and exclaim in my head, Exactly! Exactly. Sometimes it's a feeling I was already feeling, articulated in a different way. And sometimes it's a feeling I didn't know existed inside of me, but as my eyes peruse the adjectives, nouns, and verbs, a familiarity deep down rises to the surface. Slowly but surely, another "Exactly" moment.

Recently, the song I am listening to the most is called "Heart's a Mess" by Gotye:

"Pick apart
The pieces of your heart
And let me peer inside
Let me in
Where only your thoughts have been
Let me occupy your mind
As you do mine

You have lost
Too much love
To fear, doubt and distrust
(It's not enough)
You just threw away the key
To your heart

You don't get burned
('Cause nothing gets through)
It makes it easier
(Easier on you)
But that much more difficult for me
To make you see

Love ain't fair
So there you are

My love

Your heart's a mess
You won't admit to it
It makes no sense
But I'm desperate to connect
And you, you can't live like this

Your heart's a mess
You won't admit to it
It makes no sense
But i'm desperate to connect
And you, you cant't live like this

Your heart's a mess
You won't admit to it
It makes no sense
But i'm desperate to connect
And you, you cant't live like this

Love ain't safe
You won't get hurt if you stay chaste
So you can wait
But I don't wanna waste my love"



Exactly.


Slightly unrelatedly, but related in the sense of "this is what's going on with me," I finally saw Mia and Romy, the two girls I have such love for, and who I also have not seen in a very long time. A year. I've really only gone to Manhattan a handful of times in the past 9 months, and those times have been calculated and not spontaneous. It is really because I love and miss them so much that I have not seen them. I have such a pain in my heart, or a void maybe, or a pain because of a void, from not being with them. I cry when I think about them, if we talk on the phone or email. There is something so much more pure and genuine about love for children, as opposed to love for a partner.

I called Mia earlier in the day, but didn't get a hold of her, but I went to Manhattan for something else anyway. I called again, but she didn't pick up. I got anxious, feeling so close (a mile?) and yet, still so far. I decided to walk around. Maybe I could go in some stores, or is there a museum or gallery around here? All of the immensities and intricacies of Manhattan were in front of me. And then I had this profound intense moment: it dawned on me that there is NOTHING in all of Manhattan, in the entire world really, that I would rather be doing than hugging Mia and Romy for the first time in a year. Nothing. I stood there on a rare cobblestone street, staring up at the blue sky and the light reflected on a building, thinking about its picture-worthiness and not caring at all that I forgot my camera. I don't care. I don't care about any of this. God my heart hurts.

I began to walk, with more purpose and determination than I have felt in a long time. I was nervous only because of the onslaught of emotion I would inevitably encounter. When I see them, having run down the stairs after calling me, I am everything at once. Elated, sad, excited, afraid, happy, depressed, anxious, euphoric. There they are, on the sidewalk where our three pairs of feet had trodden so many times together. And there come the tears, that precariously lay dormant but occasionally break through the surface, always there no matter how hidden and repressed. No one has made me cry out of such happiness; on the contrary, I have cried so much in the past year, out of pure negativity and anger. No one has made me this happy in the past year. It is so good to cry like that.

We climb the stairs together, hands clasped, smiles full, stories ready.