There's something to be said about being able to see without being seen. I want to be invisible, to disappear, but I still want to watch, to see, to know.

I want access to you without giving you any to me. To lurk silently and secretly: out of sight, but not out of mind.

I want to observe you through the clear side of a one-way mirror, to become air and hold your hand without you knowing. In short, I want to be a living ghost....to glide about where and when I please. To explore. To do everything I fancy and then some. To see you. To see you without you knowing. Without you knowing how much I miss you, how watching you from behind a screen tortures me and sustains me at once. I want to make you wonder where I am, make you long for me even though I am right there... make you look for me, and make you find me.

In some ways, that's why I deleted my facebook page. To erase myself for the time being. To make it difficult to find me, or, well, my virtual self, anyway.

It all seems so long ago. 

New Plan.

Plan B: Don't talk about it, don't think about it, keep moving, keep busy, shut self away from negative emotions, but don't shut down.

Plan B: New chemo, same routine. Maybe this one will work. Maybe. Maybe. Inshallah. The thought ends here, with the line break. 

Plan B: Delete Facebook? Commence work/school-induced hibernation. Yeah, right. Believe that when you see it. 

Plan B: Be a big girl. Be home and be positive. Fake it until you make it. Smile even if it hurts. Don't cry or get angry. Exercise. Eat right. Just breathe and keep on keeping on.

Plan B: Distract, distract, distract and it will be OK. 

Unfortunately, I was wrong about things getting better. 

please, please, please, please, PLEASE GOD PLEASE. 

i want to write more, but every time i do, i stop. i fear being detailed for some reason, an OCD thing perhaps, as though spelling out what i am hoping for will jinx my chance of ever realizing these desperate hopes. so all i can do is breathe in, breathe out, and repeat this constant refrain of please. all i can do is plead and pray and hope that somehow, some ambiguous someone out there, is listening.

This entry is a a place marker, a reminder to myself to write about what I cannot presently bring myself to write about. A reminder that I was a disappointment. Ideally, this entry will serve as a reminder to myself to be better, yet I feel as though perhaps it is just a documentation of my resentment. Or maybe it is simply a record of a memory, a conversation, yet another turning point in this mess. A warning that I cannot run away, cannot escape, cannot be wholly happy without causing pain. 

A breath of fresh air

I feel like my luck is changing, or maybe it is I who am changing my luck. I am happy, but afraid to admit it, afraid to jinx it all. I am having visions. Not psychic visions per se, but I've got a strong feeling that I cannot explain that everything is going to be OK. 

This feeling is terrifying because I am so convinced right now, yet, in the back of my mind a little voice tells me to go back to reality and not to get my hopes up. Still, the visions remain. 

I did not realize I could be happy again in spite of everything going on. Oh, I knew I could manage. I knew I would trudge along. But happiness was not a possibility. Not with my father being sick. Not with my having to stay in New York City while the majority of my friends embarked on exciting adventures abroad. I envisioned a lonely semester, consisting of painstaking efforts to keep myself busy and distracted just to pass the time.

Now, I am busy without effort. Envoy. Festival Isis. Alla. High school friends. Egypt friends. Parties. Hangovers (there's a first time for everything hahaha). Books. Mark? Movies. Food. Family. Cats. Cleaning. Envoy. Alla. Festival Isis. New friends. Old friends. Everything. 

But maybe I speak to soon. The spring semester has not yet begun. Perhaps I am wrong, perhaps my intuition is failing me.

Yet, I think the time will pass. I see things getting better. I see it. Runtie is getting better. Maybe it is a sign. Things are changing. I know it. I know it. I know it. Next semester, my time will come. My day will come. I will be on my way...to somewhere...Ghana? Belize? Thailand? And then I will come back: back to the people I love...finally. Refreshed, relaxed, and content.

 

I don't even have to close my eyes. I see it everywhere I look. 

Yeah, I'm totally awesome

I feel like congratulating myself. I finally got all of my grades, and I've earned a 4.0 this semester! Two A's and two A+'s!!! Damn, sometimes I think I'm amazing. How the fuck did I pull this off? 

Funny, I question it like I don't know the answer, but I do! I worked my butt off and I didn't give up! I guess I'm just still in shock that I had it in me. But I do, and now I have proof of it on paper! (=

Inshallah, this will motivate me to keep working harder, to trudge on in the face of adversity. 

I cannot deal with my father's crankiness. Every other word that comes out of his mouth is an order. And he wonders why I never want to be at home. 

Inshallah!

I am marching on. I am keeping moving. I am trudging forward. My world hasn't stopped in your collective absence. I feel it alright, but I am filling the empty spaces with "a few of my favorite things" (yes, that means Alla and shopping especially). It is strange, having so little else to say. Perhaps that is a sign that I am alright. Inshallah. 

Dear 2010,

For the love of God, have mercy.

Sincerely,

Tracy