Hate hate hate this.

I hate it when emotions sneak up on me. I would absolutely be horrified if this happened anywhere when I was with someone/in public.

I was emailing a friend about Burned by Ellen Hopkins (Just a stunning book). As I was telling her, I remembered that I was reading that when he left me for her. And before I could even blink I was heaving sadness into my hands, cupping my face, my mouth so that no one could hear me.

hate hate hate. I was perfectly fine, happy that she emailed me and then bam, I'm trying to muffle my brief sobs. Why must I remember that? Why. I loved the book and looking back on it, I can remembered how I cling to it. to anything. I remembered how I cling because I couldn't get up. I couldn't do anything. I spent a week lying in bed, sleeping 16 hours a day, only getting up to eat food I didn't find taste. and when I went to the bathroom, it was only to dry heave over the toilet and vomit nothing but a clear white looking like water liquid, trying to vomit the distaste of the whole affair. It was ugly. very ugly. I worried everyone. I lost a lot of weight. I went down from a size 16 to a size 14 in two weeks because I didn't realized I was starving myself. I couldn't eat. I couldn't swallow, I would get nauseous if I ate anything heavier than a yogurt or a banana a day. Yeah that's what I was eating. One banana or one yogurt a day and some water. It was all I could stomach.

Stupid how one thing can bring you down. I clung to that book. I read burned and it took me the whole week, not because it's difficult. it's actually a very fast, very short read. But I've read Burned because I would be reading it and just glazed over whatever I read, I had to go back and concentrate on what I actually read because I didn't know what I read. Or then i would read something and I would have to put the book down because I couldn't go on.

I know if I read it again and I want to. I love Hopkins, it's only going to make me cry.

And I'm sick for still wanting him sometimes. He broke me and I want him back. So strong. so weak. too much. too little.

All I can do is write and wait. wait. wait. for the day that I might be okay, and find a man who will treat me like I am a flower and he is a bee and his world is me.

Where are you, I think I know who you are, prince charming with glasses, and always a good book in sack, prince charming with outdated slang, prince charming, king of the geeks. When are you? because you're not here on my time, with me, when you should be. But you still make me smile. he still holds the ability to make me laugh with his bad jokes and his geek boy manner and maybe that's why I cling to him, when I should just cut my losses and go. live. forget about relationships and just concentrate on reading and writing for the rest of my life. Sounds like a good enough plan to me.

Beauty

I remember being short. I remember being in my school uniform, and always carrying a little white button up sweater with me because my grandma would send it with me to school, even in the spring, in case the teatro got too cold. I remember my teacher Ms. York, a sweet sweet young teacher leading us to our seats which were blue. I remember sitting down next to my best friend and just watching the stage brought to life. I remember the etiquette lessons always repeatedly taught before each performance. I remember alot. What I don't remember was how many we went to, or what I saw. I just remember the costumes, the scenery, the dancing on stage, the funny arguments they would have on stage. What I remember now is that I was too little to appreciate it. Who knows how many plays I saw? Who knows what I saw, and what was lost to me because of my age. I do know we saw the Nutcracker, and Alice in Wonderland because Alice was a kid's movie, anything else. Nope. :(