From the deepest depths of my heart,

I apologize for the pain I'm aware I've caused and the hearts in which you might consider broken.
I'm sorry for the indecisiveness I've been unable to cease and the thirst for a second thought that I've been unable to quench.

I'm not sure if there's something wrong with me and I can't offer an explanation that clearly defines the mixed emotions that don't allow me to take the plunge.
I won't waste time on someone that won't waste time on me.
As far as I'm concerned, if I'm going to spend time, it's going to be time well spent.

You know those songs that make you feel?

I'm going to make a list of those. So far:

Stop & Stare - OneRepublic
Amazing Because It Is - The Almost
You're Not Alone - Saosin
Carry On - Valencia

I'm Curtis.

I could start off by saying that I've changed, that I'm a new me, that I've recently tried things I've never done before... But that would be a lie.

I'm still Chelsea Leigh Deen, still the same little blond girl I was a month ago. But this, this was something I never anticipated doing. I never in my wildest dreams would have imagined myself in the position I was in the past two days. I never would have thought that I'd make such amazing friends at such a giant distance. However, on Monday and Tuesday, they were within arms reach.

I say I'm no different because I am not. My physicality may have changed, but I'm still the person they met over three months ago and I'm still the person you've gotten to know for however long you've known me. This person is who I'll be forever.

Saying goodbye hurt me almost as much as my heart ached for Kyle and Brandon. I say almost because I know that we'll see each other again soon. Five weeks, five months, five years. Like I said, I don't cry over boys, but that was something that punched me in the gut.
 

All because your insides, your insides know who good people are too. 

The little brown handbook.

These blogs are for me, not for you. So don't make it about yourself. This is to make me feel better and if your comments serve no aid to that, don't leave one at all.

I really just don't know.

Tonight I, involuntarily, made myself stop being so oblivious. To stop smiling to make someone else grin. To stop laughing so to put others at ease. To discontinue focus on others so to forget about my own apprehension.

I wallowed in my own disregard and locked away concerns, so unthought of that I spoke irrationally. When I indulge myself in the negative I once put away, I will be completely unsatisfied until I am entirely clean. I don't like feeling like this, so why do I feel it's necessary?

I haven't dreamed in months.

You were dressed in a blue, long sleeved, collared shirt. It was tucked in your slacks and a brown belt was worn around your waist. I was in the back seat of an unidentifiable car and while looking out the window, I passed you. I yelled to the driver to stop, to just stop. I opened the door and jumped out of the vehicle without bidding a goodbye. I ran, as fast as I could, but I didn't catch you.

It then flashed to a room, one very similar to the room in which I slept. I noticed you then how I'd noticed you before. Excited, excited to meet everyone at Homecoming. But then someone told you "You're gone, Kyle. You died." It was as if they had said nothing, you didn't hear them. And just as soon as they started showing you pictures, it was as if I was released from a jail cell of observation, and I ran to you with desperation. I needed to comfort you, I needed to tell you what happened because you obviously didn't know. You stood there with the evidence of a broken heart on your face, with an expression of ultimate helplessness. You knew something was wrong, but you heard no one but me.

That's when I wrapped my arms around you and began to sob. You put your arms around my waist, pulled me closer, and buried your face into my neck. Through breaths I told you what happened and that I'd missed you so much. I asked you not to leave me, but you said nothing.

"Kyle, did you love her? Did you love her, Kyle?" I shook you as if I doubted you'd give me the correct answer like all the other times I demanded you to admit it. You looked at me with a stone cold expression that told me I didn't need to ask such a thing. Then hurt washed over your face and I looked around me. She was not there and that was why.

Someone took our picture. Over and over, as each photo flashed, I voiced that I wanted everyone to see you. To see that you came back and that you were really among us somehow.

Your phone illuminated the dimness of wherever we were and I knew it was telling you to go and that your time was up. You put your hand on my face and I leaned into it, starting to weep again. I took my own hand and put it over yours as you stared into my blurry eyes. I felt as if you told me you loved me even though your mouth never moved and no sound escaped those lips.

You faded away as I regained conciousness. I then woke up with a start and an immediate cry. Crying because I had no pictures and weeping because I had no you.

Things are not the same.

My mind is flooded with an ocean that seems to have no bottom. Coming up for air is necessary, but not as important to me as the dive downward. As I sink deeper and deeper, the darkness frightens me and a second of doubt flickers through my mind. I then find myself, arms outstretched, hands searching for another, swimming frantically as if time is running out. Arms are then around me, and you steal from me all that I am too willingly to give up. I savor the kisses like you savor the oxygen, my breath, that you need so badly to live in a place that you are inescapable of. Then you push me away. Up to life, reality, and a place of forgetfulness. This is a breath of air that the concerned above want me to take for myself, when really, I know for a fact that I only breathe for you. I hardly notice that attempt sunlight is trying to make to distract me, to draw me into supposed security and a place in which I can disregard all that this light misunderstands. I inhale, dive downward, and "jeopardize everything" all over again. I do this all with a smile on my face, however careful to not let any oxygen escape my lungs. It may be a blind travel, but there is enough hope waiting to welcome me at the end of my journey to give me all the willpower needed to keep swimming.

That's not being me.

Is it fair that I am notified or informed that I am accepted by an individual, but I naturally and subconsciously will accept you for whoever it is you are with the first look I take at you or first word I hear of you?

No. It's not at all fair, but I won't change my ways out of spite.
Choke or swallow.

She might have been the death of you, but baby, you killed yourself.

Your imagination has been held captive, it's created something that dances on the tip of your nose ever so gracefully. Unable to keep your eyes off her, you give yourself a headache concentrating so hard. You tell yourself you'll be okay if she goes away, but beyond your self assurance you don't know what you'll do if she disappears.

She travels to your eyes, slow enough to make you shiver, and you close them only because she asks you to. Her soft hands caress your eyelids, her touch reveals her yearn of your blindness. She prances to your ears and whispers lyrics you've never heard before, it seems as if it's a lullaby intended only for you. Her presence washes away all doubt that ever existed. You then realize that your eyes don't need to be sewn shut to experience only her and nothing else, but it makes her happy and you'd be visually ignorant forever if wanted.

She slides down your neck and stops at your lips. Her slow moving torture should have been an easily recognized warning. She parts them with her highly addictive fingertips and slides inside. Before you even have a chance to gasp, move, or open your eyes, she's in your throat and no one is there to save you.

Pathetically enough, yes, I'll still be here.

I'm in a choke hold that does not allow me to stray, even for the slightest second. It's a figment of my imagination, but it exists, all at the same time. As soon as I loosen your fingers, just a little bit, you notice with a start and almost kill me in your panic. I'm against the wall and I know you fear, behind your upright chin and pin straight backbone, that I'll somehow escape. I know you're scared that if you let me wander, I might not come back.

And like the grip you have on my neck, all the hurt you've caused me, I'd be pretty fucking uneasy too.

Sure, write it on your suicide note.

I never want to hear/see someone say "fuck life" in serious context again.

Ponder that statement before you habitually blurt it out.
If you want to kill yourself, then by god, go kill yourself. There's people that want to be here, and if you want to leave, then leave.