again, i forgot i even had this, when did i start it and why, if i just keep wondering off? cleaning out documents in my computer, i found this saved on my notepad. how fitting to find these both in the same day. i haven't changed, you haven't changed, we haven't change, and the only solid evidence in that is the 533 miles i've put between us.

i ventured out this afternoon to go explore my new surroundings and came home an hour later after being lost in the maze of freeways and too much gas wasted. this isn't easy for me, the constant lump in my throat and always on the verge of tears from all the missing growing inside of me. the unknown of how i'm going to jump-start my career, my dwindling bank account. what am i doing here? i have no appetite (-4lbs) and insomnia has taken over my body, i am so goddamn lonely and this new world is so spread out, i am sitting between the desert and the blue and warm pacific ocean. i don't belong here and i don't belong to anyone and i don't know myself anymore. but i've learned to walk with my head up and my parent's daily phone calls of "you're not coming home, olivia, you're going to stay there and try no matter how much you miss", fuck.

anyway:

I'm moving in 10 days. How is that even real? How is any of this possible? Where am I going to work? How will I figure life out? Or will it figure me out?

There's this picture of me in my head, sitting on a long couch in the middle of my apartment, reading a book with my legs draped over the edge, a cat somewhere near by. The apartment is cold and it smells like Spring in a forest, but it is fall in Los Angeles and it's raining outside.

He kisses me and which ever lip his small lips don't fold over gets jealous, begs me to ask him for a second kiss. How am I going to leave him? This? The comfort? His piano fingers and ocean blue eyes? A warmth rushes through me from the bottom of my belly into my heart and all of me starts to pulsate, creating a hunger for him inside of me, or maybe it's fear.

Don't know how to begin packing my material possessions. What am I supposed to do with my ticket stubs, old letters, magazine clips, yearly planners? All these things that I'll only briefly glanced at years and years apart, to know they're there? Solid proof of my existence- the places I've seen, the air I've shared, the places I've sat, the screens I've watched. And the love letters, the dramatic letters, the apologetic letters, the gossip letters, the happy letters? I can't bring myself to read them, I open them quickly enough to glance at the name and fold them right back up. I miss so much, I want to call them all and ask who they've become and let me remember who I was when I loved them.

The words seem to finally be coming back to me. This whole year I've been stuck and mute and now I've got nothing to show for it. God, please help me find a job.

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i'm going to text you now and let you read all of this. i don't know how to get across to you anymore. i don't know you and you don't know me and yet i still write you into all my future plans.