Breathing.

She said,

"Please?"

You said,

"Maybe.."

She said,

"Baby?"

You said,

"We'll see."

To be honest, today I am legitimately depressed. I woke up this morning sad. Sometimes when I feel this way, I trace lines on my arm with my fingers like I would want to trace them with metal. I saw my arm against my blue pillowcase, and it shocked me. It didn't look mine. I realized I was tanned, more tanned than I had been when I left. Tanned, healthy, sun-loving people don't feel this way, do they? They do. I do.

To be honest, reality is becoming too much to handle right now. I am going back to camp tomorrow morning sometime. Tonight I am straight girl again. I should paint my fucking nails and put on lipstick and hum some tune they play on the radio. Going out tonight. I am dressed like the straight, hooker version of me.

To be honest, I have started writing everything out. I've started writing, and I'm going to finish someday soon, and then I'll give you a copy and leave. I'm just going North, remember that. Just going north. Tears freeze in the North, so no one will cry.

I am not ready to go, but I go anyways. Isn't that the way it works? No one is ready to go, but we all go. Afraid, unprepared, ashamed of ourselves, we go. Happy, fulfilled, with expectations met, we go.

This summer has been great, but afterwards it will not be so. I am not ready to go, but I will go. Can I live like this? I go away and the sadnesses heal slowly, and I become confident.

But it takes a day and a half to recover from home when I go away. I am not ready to go, but I go. Bags packed, pens in my pocket, sleep deprived I go.

We all go. Alone, sad, hungry for something different, we go.
I come back to go.

I'm letting you know.

I'm not ready to go, but I'll go.

When I come back, I'll go.