7.5 hours.

I'm sitting in my hotel room in San Francisco and it has never been more clear to me. 

I am making a huge mistake going back. 
But I can't change that. 

Last night I joked my way through dinner, saying I should just quit now, see where it gets me. My dad said, "Hey. I'm paying for that. Enjoy it." 

I replied, "If I don't I'll pay you back." 

Manando that shit.

"I love you. Make out with lots of girls." 

"I love you too. And I'll try." he said as I slammed the car door. 



This was my goodbye with my best friend. 

Every part of me is saying finishing college is a mistake. Which is crazy. But somewhere deep in my gut I know I shouldn't go back. But I have to. 
Potentially this year could be the biggest mistake of my life. 
Potentially this year could be the year I learn the most. 
Potentially this year could be the year I learn I know what I need to know to do this for real. 

Regardless, unfortunately or fortunately I'm going back. Tomorrow. 


So. 

I guess we'll see.

I think I'm dreading this year to protect myself. 


I think it's going to be fine. 


Maybe I'll actually learn something. 


Who knows.

pretzel logic.

Different pieces of my love rest in different places. 

A piece in fort and under the covers, looking at your stern face as you slept and breathed deeply. 
A piece in the gravel, in the morning next to your umbrella and my jacket on the ground. 
A piece in the back of the car, my head in your lap as you sang to me horribly and sweetly.
A piece in that dirty house, wearing your shirt, in the cold and everything smelling like bacon and effort. 
A piece in the kitchen when I made you dance and you did and I looked up at you and knew what I wanted. 


I tend to believe that if I try hard enough, if I say a lot of things maybe everything will stay, everything will be here.

Then there are the pieces that do. 

A piece on your shoulder, on your couch with a beer and a look that knows what I need, when I need it. 
A piece on the rock, near the ocean, on the beach and the face that I've know as long as mine. 
A piece in a place that I don't want to be but there's pizza and a happy-saddness that comforts me. 


As for the largest piece, I should call it a chunk or a slice, that will probably be somewhere else tomorrow or the next or the next. 

He kissed my forehead. We lay there, in the gravel in a park in London as the sun came up. Being kissed on the forehead always seemed patronizing to me. But this one came at the right moment. 

I did not cry. At first. I hung up the phone in our poorly lit cockroach hotel in Rome and didn't know what to do. This was the logical thing to do. We weren't going to see each other again. Why would I be in a relationship with someone I wasn't going to see again. 
 I joked that Rome was the best city for me to be dumped in. Pasta and wine. Comfort foods. 
It wasn't until Florence that I realized what had happened. 
We stood on at bridge and the sun was setting. I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want to talk about it. But I had to. So we did. I allowed myself to be sad about it in Florence. But as soon as we got off of that train I couldn't think about it anymore. I was in Europe. There's no point to being heart broken in Europe. 

I realize now it will be good for me to not be with someone for awhile. 
I need to be with myself. 

Because the main thing I realized about myself on this trip is that I'm pretty sure I'm capable of falling in love with any one now. And if I'm not careful I'll be the window girl for the rest of myself, only associated with other people. 
And I don't want that. 
I want to be associated with myself. 

The Truth of the Matter.

The truth of the matter is that it don't matter. 

Mary's father song plays in my head and makes me want to buy a record player. I think I'm going to.

But here is the truth. For once in a blue moon its good to not be cryptic.

Actually, you want a couple of truths? 

I'll start with one that shouldn't matter to me: 

First truth: I resent a younger girl for stealing my break up. That's right. I do. I spent two months in two different therapists office shifting through my feelings alone in a corner and coming out the other side a stronger person baffled by the amount of time I spent putting everything I had into taking care of another human being. She has spent five months talking to everyone, having everyone's sympathy about the same person. She used the worst night of my life as a metaphor for her own writing and it still bothers me. I don't know why it bothers me so much but it does. She stole my break up. Part of me is glad I dealt with it all alone [and with the help of two therapists and my best friend] but yeah mostly alone. The thing is, I'm fond of this girl which is why I can say with every bit of love in me: build a bridge baby girl. I would let you walk on my bridge if it was at all the same situation, but it is not. 

Second truth: I continue to be shocked that I have fallen so in love with a robot and that robot has fallen in love with me back. After the initial rocky start and the questioning if it was the right thing to do to stay together over the summer I am sure that it is. We talked at 2am my time, 4am his time and he told me how much he missed me. How happy I make him. When did this happen. How did this happen? How did we get from that night in the fort with the whiskey and the kiss that made everything disappear and me thinking that it was never going to happen again to here? It makes me simultaneously happy and sad that this will only get to be what it is for one more year. I didn't think I would fit with someone like this. It brings a whole new meaning to the song Red Right Ankle for me.

Third truth: I have been in love three times.  The first time embarrassed me. The second time made me vulnerable. And the third time has made the tips of my fingers tingle and my lips go numb. What fascinates more is the sensation of falling out of love. I have fallen out of love two times. The first time happened long after it should have, I looked him between the shelves of a used book store and I realized didn't ache to know what he was thinking. The second time we stood in the hall way of the building and he yelled at me and held his heart and I realized I didn't ache to have his attention. 

Fourth truth: I don't want to begin to think about the third time I'll fall out of love.

Some sort of boyfriend soundtrack.

I've been listening to my ipod on shuffle. I am challenging myself to listen to every song.  It has made me realize I associate songs with people. So here is the soundtrack of boyfriend's past and one bonus track for my current relationship.

Track One: Blister In The Sun- Violent Femmes
 
Track Two: Cold Day In The Sun- Foo Fighters 

Track Three: That's The Way- Led Zeppelin

Track Four: If You're Wondering- Weezer  

Track Five: Every Man Has A Molly- Say Anything

Track Six: Beyond The Sea- Bobby Darin

Track Seven: The Sound of Settling- Death Cab For Cutie  

Track Eight: Sunshine- Matt Costa  

Track Nine: Oregon Girl- Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin 

Track Ten: White Blank Page- Mumford & Sons  

*BONUS TRACK* Track Eleven: A Girl, A Boy, and a Graveyard- Jeremy Messersmith