Right now I'm working on one of my many final projects. We've been split up for nearly two months and I can't tell if it feels like forever or if it seems like time has flown by. I miss him. I'm just going to be honest about it. What I want more than anything is to call him up and feel his arms around me. I miss him slightly, I miss him quietly; just enough to notice, not bad enough to open up the lines of communication again. I don't know what the rules are; I cut the ties, therefore I should not try to mend things. It wasn't too long ago when I was sitting on his bed, looking into his green glass eyes and telling him that this had run its course. I could see my reflection in his pupils like a scared actress on a stage and all alone, forgetting her lines and choking after every sentence. I wanted this, so I have no right to complain about longing for someone to be next to me at night. I don't deserve to have two arms wrapped around me. I know there will come a time when I will run into him, maybe at the grocery store or while I'm out for a run. What on earth will I say? Ask how he's doing? After two years of intimacy and involvement, is what it will come down to? I suppose so. I'm a terribly selfish person. I stuck my greedy fingers through this and gave it all away because I was holding out for something better, something I'm not sure really exists. Perhaps I had found it and now I'll never be able to have it again. I could care less about dinners and vacations and rings that catch the sunlight and throw it all around a room; I miss being able to call him for no reason. I miss emailing him silly articles which caught my eye, I miss him making dinner for me while I studied at his kitchen table. Those aspects of the relationship are the most sentimental to me. I guess I underestimated how ubiquitous his presence had been in my life. I had sewn him into my fabric and was foolish to think I could neatly tear him out. Oftentimes I feel as though I'm not really living this life, I feel like as though a shell of me is going through the motions and occasionally I show up to moderate and check out again with a disapproving grin. The new boy does not like to take walks with me. I don't yet feel comfortable calling him for no reason. Will I never be that secure with him? I like him a lot, perhaps too much for my own good, but he's different than my old boyfriend. Of course he's different. They're two completely separate people. Why is that so hard for me to swallow? We have our own jokes, we have a different dynamic. I guess I'm just craving what I'm used to.

The other day I found out my mother had cancer again. This is the third time. Instead of feeling sad and scared I felt angry, so angry, all the while knowing this was not an appropriate emotion. Why, why does she have to be sick again? It infuriates me to think about it, it really does. How long will it be before she says to hell with needles full of poison? When will I be planning her funeral? Will she even be well enough to attend my graduation? I found out from my sister; my mom would never have told me. But I suspected she was sick again, I could hear it in her voice. I don't know what kind of cancer or how bad it is. She doesn't want me to worry so she never brings the subject up. Two years ago I found out she had lung cancer when my sister told me through an instant message. I was mad then too, like I was being kept in the dark and only found out when my sister had let it slip. I called the hospital several times where my mother was having the surgery but she never answered. It makes me sick to even think about it; the worst part about it is that there's nothing I can do, and that enrages me, it drives me insane. I hate when I cannot control things. I hate not knowing how long she will live. I feel very alone right now, like I'm on an iceberg that is floating away from the rest of humanity. I don't know how to bring up any of these subjects without making it appear like I am fishing for sympathy. Because maybe I am, maybe I want someone to empathize with me. When the new boy and I went out one night a few months ago I brought up that I suspected my mother was sick again, to which he replied, "Well this is great talk for a Friday night." Fuck you. I'm sorry to bring up such an awful, morbid subject to kill your buzz. I'm sure he didn't mean it that way but it hurt to hear him say that. The old boyfriend would have given me a hug and said something comforting. It really bothered me when the new boy said that. Will I never be able to open up to him? I haven't told him that she really is sick again. I don't want to tread on his perfect joyous life with my dark storm. Actually, I haven't told anyone. Sometimes I feel like I am there for the new boy more than he wants to be there for me. I ask him how his day was, reassure him when he gets nervous about reporting, but then when I have something going on in my life he deems it too inappropriate to talk about. I wonder when I will truly be able to say I am happy.