I am still waiting. This is the most vulnerable, pathetic position I can imagine. I sit by the phone hoping he'll call and tell me whether he wants to stay with me. I want to call him, but I promised I wouldn't. I won't. I can't. I am surviving. I need to get out of the house, but I worry that he'll call if I leave. I guess that is what answering machines are for. I went home to Berkeley two days ago and stayed over night so my mother could take care of me. I can't write now, I need to think. I can't think, I need to sleep. I can't sleep, I need to eat. I can't eat, I feel like throwing up. I can't throw up, I need to wait. And wait I will. So I continue waiting and hoping.I fell on my skateboard. I have large scrapes on my back, side, and arm. I also have a bump on my head. Why do I feel like I deserve this? I don't. I don't I don't I don't.
'So long to this cold cold part of the world. So long to this sad sad part of the world. So long, so long.' ----'The Cold Part' by Modest Mouse