Today my father dumped out my suitcase.
He didn't do it on purpose, and I'm sure he felt really bad about it once he realized what had happened. I stood in the kitchen, a glass of juice in hand, and saw my carefully rolled and packed items sprawled across the living room floor. It seemed to me that those once organized and prepared items now sprawled half-hazardly across the ground represented myself throughout this exchange.
I think that how a person is doing can be measured on how well they react to the small catastrophies that occur in a person's life. Well as I stood there in the kitchen and saw my stuff sprawled on the carpet I showed my true colours, and I fell the fuck apart.
I could literally feel the walls of myself falling down, but they strangely didn't make any noise as they hit. My voice turned into a wail and I knew that if I didn't reel it in soon I would soon become nothing more than a broken puddle.
The fact that Hazen was sitting on the couch waiting for me to return to our How I Met Your Mother Marathon was most likely the only reason I did reel it back in. I am ashamed that the only reason I didn't completely collapse was for fear of embarassment.
But it is more than embarassment. It's the fact that Hazen and I are strained right now and our whole relationship seems to be me crying on the phone and him saying "baby it'll be all right". When we picked him up to come over I sat in the car, angry that we were picking him up at 8 instead of 630 like I had expected, I decided that this was not going to be a night that would end with me crying on the phone to him, but one that would be reflected upon positively.
So I pulled myself together because I was scared that he would be horrified by just how much I could fall apart.
Even now I can't let it go. I can't let all the hard work I have put in to packing that damn suitcase so I can go on the trip that I have worked my ass off for for the past year and a half. I can't let it go. I want to get up, walk out of this room, and scream at my father. I want him to feel bad for spilling out all of my hard work.
Work that was especially hard because I did it through studying for exams, through exhaustion, and through a headcold. It was painstaking work that involved a lot of looking for things, and laundry, and folding, and rolling, and arranging, and re-arranging. I had only 1 more thing to put into that suitcase, then I was going to weigh it (hopefully we would be all good on that aspect) and I could zip it shut for good. But now, with 5 (almost 4) days until departure I will have to do it all again.
Now I know that 4 days is well enough time to pack a suitcase, but you see I had had it all packed. I was ready to go, and just in time because as I crossed all but one thing off my To-Pack list I felt myself ebbing away. And now I still feel myself ebbing away but there is so much more work to do.
I know that I am taking this minor catastrophie badly. Which shows me just how bad I really am doing. Is it worth doing something if you have to work so hard that by the time you get there you feel like a zombie and wonder if you have enough life in you to enjoy it? And then you shake your head and say, "I'm only 16! I'm supposed to be living it up right now" and then you just want to fall back on your bed and go back to sleep and you wonder if you even have enough life in you to make it to the ripe old age of 17. Then your mind is kaboggled at the idea of the Canadian woman who is 112.
So here I am, blogging away about how I'm not sure if I have enough life in me to make it to tomorrow, and wishing that this night turned out the way I wanted to so that at the end of it all I wouldn't call Hazen crying.
But it didn't, so I think I just won't phone.

so, I leave for France in 6 days.
It's finally hitting me that I am leaving for 3 months.
3 months being away from everyone.

I never used to be a crier. I NEVER cried. My mom was the only person that had seen me cry. but now, I cry all the fucking time.

Especially when I think about my friends. People's faces swim into my brain and the tears just come. Thinking of being unable to see them for 3 months scares me. They are some of the strings that hold me together.

It's not the foreign country part, or the not speaking the language part. It's the being without the people I love part.

well I know
we gonna make it if we take it slow
you never know what you're gonna get
when you live your life like a russion roulette
I know I know,
well I know,
you can't just live your life on the run
my daddy told me listen my son
what I say aint always what I done

I'm not the best
and most the things I try and do
I make a mess
out of most things, yes it's true
but I still climb to the top
before I get to ride it down
and I don't raise a deal about the things that I have done and found

'Cause I'm just a man, but a man with a lot to loose
got a lot of choice to make
but not a whole lot of choice to choose
do I accept my fate or do I go and refuse
got the false estate and I got to state the truth

and that's the problem,
there ain't no right or wrong
One's a bible about getting ahead
and one's a bible about getting gone

Well I know
we're gonna make it
if we take it slow
you never know what you're gonna get
living your life like a russian roulette
and I know, I know
you can't live your life on the run.
and my daddy told me listen my son
what I say aint always what I've done

I've got a new low ; all 52 cards in a row

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S.O.B.

Je suis fatigue

It's most likely a good thing I was once ambitious and signed myself up for things like school, leadership, Sooke youth council, work, OSEF...
Because I truly believe; currently left to my own devices, I would never get out of bed.