Simply Exhausted.

Freshman orientation is worse than my high school freshman orientation in the fact that I didn't know the majority of those people since kindergarten. I didn't know the campus, the best places to park, or the location of the nearest soda machine (I've now found that the cheapest ones are tucked behind the off limits/under construction area by the Tech Building. 50 cents for a soda!) I walked in, grabbed a free lanyard, collected the free folder full of information they were passing out, and then suddenly realized that I had no idea what I was doing. I didn't have any friends there to hide by or to talk to. I looked to my right and thankfully a girl was doing the same thing as myself. Introductions, hello my name is...we found safety in our common shyness...That was all Wednesday.

Spent most of the week seeing Renae here and there. Drinking mochas here and there. Yesterday I worked at the college newspaper. I still feel awkward and hesitant to ask too many questions. It was beautiful to walk through the campus on my own. It was sprinkling (of course) and chilly but magical all the same. Everything was calm and quiet except the crunching of leaves here and there. Then I spent the night at Renae's house and talked to Eddie on Skype too. It was nice to speak with both of my best friends at the same time. I'm always missing one of them, it seems.

I'm tired of missing.

Is Not Afraid of Commitment, But Instead Clowns

I desperately need school to start, even though I only have a week left. I was actually productive all day and am acting as the errand runner for the next three days. I am surprisingly happy with this prospect; it means that I will be forced into leaving the house by 7:45 every morning.

A bitter taste in my mouth. Blackberry soda turned out tasting like root-beer and grape Kool-aid had a love child. I am pondering my bittersweet day. Sweet in the sense that I achieved three interviews and photographs for my newspaper article. Bitter by running into your parents. I think they hate me now, but I could never explain to them what happened. Where everything began to fall apart. I willingly hold my tongue because I promised you I would. I promised you and have kept this promise dammit. I wish I could smile at them again. I wish I could talk to you again. Most of all I wish things had been different. They weren't and I have moved on.

I Shall Curl Into My Ball Now, Pardon the Interruption

I started today feeling tired but quite sure that I would be happy and confident in due time.

and then I saw you...dammit.

I had not expected you to be there, particularly since you told me you never liked church. In a way I felt it to be a safe haven. Stupid to convince myself that I'd never see you again. Of course I would. We have too many things in common. What did I feel? I have no idea and it frustrates me that I cannot properly express my emotions. How old am I? five? Ridiculous. I know that I did the right thing and I know that anything I may still feel is simply due to missing what we did have. I don't truly feel those things anymore, even if I wish I did.

Is there guilt, shame, regret lingering? Its possible there are those things here and there but for the most part I am at a loss of words. Blank in describing precisely what I think of you.


My dog is laying on my floor and I feel rejected. Lovely end to my day.

Little Feet, Big Shoes

Just when I had hit the point where the air felt stale in my lungs and my eyes were forever drooping, I was able to stop (or rather get up and go) and take a gigantic, deep breath of mountain air. I feel happy in saying that I feel happy. My mind feels fresh again. I am excited about so many things in the near future and in the present. The present; the right now. The term makes me want to smile: I am busy again but not stressed.

I filled out an application online and had a meeting with the assistant director of communications and now....I am going to officially start in October as a volunteer writer for the brilliant organization Children of the Nations (http://www.cotni.org/). I am beyond excited for this opportunity. Twice a week I get to go into the office and help out in any way I can; specifically by writing.

Secondly and as of this afternoon, I will be writing for my college's newspaper, The Olympian. I am really excited for this but I'm also very nervous. I wanted to work with the school newspaper at Perry by I never could fit it with my schedule. It's a time like this that I am a bit on edge. I don't want (obviously) to come to the editor with a poorly written article, although I did mention that I don't have prior experience with a newspaper. For now, I plan on working extremely hard on this article and remaining calm. I can do this properly and I have confidence in my writing abilities. I need to challenge myself this year; it's what I wanted and what I can achieve. Breathe.


The article I am assigned to write is about the dramatic increase in financial aid this semester compared to previous years. I'm also going to be taking pictures to accompany the article. I have a lot of work to do but I know that I can do this.  I cannot wait until school beings. Until I am official a college student, not just an identification number that has textbooks.

Baby steps, baby steps, baby steps.

Anonymously, Chanel

Lately, I feel as if my words are dull and that my writing abilities have been critically drained. Every time I sit down to write something, I read back and notice how stupid it sounds. I want to start something, actually I have started something but I am stuck again. Writer's block can be such a bitch. Does the writing project matter at all? Not really, but it matters to me. It matters that I cannot finish any of the writings I begin unless they have something to do with school. It matters.

I hate how I think of you again. I was perfectly happy in my little bubble before you left me those questions. Anonymous doesn't particularly mean anything, now does it? Its as if you've left this disturbing little bug in my brain and it serves a daily reminder of my choices. I keep thinking I'm going to run into you, see you, be forced to confront you at some stupid event...and then what? What is the proper thing to do, or more importantly, what is the actual thing I will do? In my imagination I will turn away in shame that I don't feel I should have, and some days I will picture myself smartly saying hello and acting as if everything I did was okay. I feel that way. Sometimes I know what I did was absolutely the right thing, the logical thing, the smart thing. Sometimes I also want to feel guilty. Guilt is my sore spot. I hate it. I will not succumb to it. Please, I don't think I can go through it all again.

I miss my best friend.

Black Hole Sun

Resumes- making them at least- suck the life out of a person. Truly elements of evil. It's a good thing I woke up in power mode today, otherwise, I'm not sure I could sit and wait for my marketing guru to get back to me on more resume writing advice. My eyes are a bit sick of looking at the computer screen but whatever. I might go blind one day anyways. It's too hot to run. The sun beats down on the black pavement with a relentless force. The week feels like it is slowly melting away and the sands of time are barely able to move from the heat's intensity. Lame poetic jargon is what keeps me going on a day like this. Or, perhaps, what keeps me going is the comforting silence that I've maintained all day in my room because I've been working. I love you, Silence.

What else shall I write here? I'm in busy mode and I thought that this would be able to keep me off task but I'm just more edgy. I need to get my resume done. I need a freaking job. Ugh, I love you summer just as much as I hate you. After all, birthday money doesn't pay for books and clothes. It just feeds my appetite for caffeine and  non required reading.

To Be Quite Honest...

I hate calling you. I hate having to hear your voice and feeling really sad inside. Out of everyone that I miss, I think of you least because I miss you so much that it is easier to deal with it that way. I miss my father- the one who didn't give me life, but who helped me through it when I looked for help. I miss the person who always reached out their hand to show me what happened was a lesson, not a death sentence. You have always been waiting for the storm to blow over to help me crawl out of my hole of insecurities and be the sturdy rock I needed. I would never suggest that one parent is better than another because that is an impossible evaluation to make. But I am saying that I only miss you so much because you are my dad and it is impossible not to miss you.

You and I- we have always connected without having to say anything at all. Whether it was through music, humor, or conversations around a campfire at two o'clock in the morning; you've never failed to inspire me to be a better person and look at the world differently.

I love you for everything that you have ever done, but there are times like today when I also dislike you for it. Quite simply, all of these great things make me miss you more.

Love,

 Your daughter.