one of my favorite story of aimee’s-

when she was little, she quite literally believed (in the not-insensitive but simply unaware way of children) that other people only existed if she were with them. when she left a room, time stood still until she returned, when it would spring back into life and continue, unchanged. she was shocked when someone finally explained to her that everyone has their own life, lives that are controlled by actions outside of her own. in the same way that a child develops a sense of object permanence, or disillusionment about the real source of their christmas presents, aimee had to learn that she was not the center of the universe.

everyone always laughs, and chalks it up as another example of childhood misperceptions. it’s cute and endearing, a child’s blind faith in their own extraordinary existence. something you grow out of.


last night, after saying goodbye to everyone, I drove around middleboro listening to marketa irglova


walking up the hill tonight
and you have closed your eyes
I wish I didn't have to make
all those mistakes and be wise
please try to be patient
and know that I'm still learning
I'm sorry that you have to see
the strength inside me burning

where are you my angel now
don't you see me crying?
and I know that you can't do it all
but you can't say I'm not trying
I'm on my knees in front of him
but he doesn't seem to see me
but all his troubles on his mind
he's looking right through me
and I'm letting myself down
beside this fire in you
and I wish that you could see
I have my troubles too

looking at you sleeping
I'm with the man I love
I'm sitting here weeping
while the hours pass so slow
and I know that in the morning
I'll have to let you go
and you'll be just a man
once I used to know
and for these past few days
someone I don't recognize
this isn't all my fault
when will you realize

looking at you leaving, I'm looking for a sign



through town and the faint windows on acorn street, past every cranberry bog and bank of fog, down rocky meadow and dirt roads and stillness in the dark.

the saddest thing is coming home and realizing that everything has changed without you. so maybe that’s why I’ve been stubbornly assuming the past three years that everything, everyone would be waiting for me when I came back. he would be there. because I didn’t know how to cope, otherwise. I needed that reassurance, the security of a constant in my life.

which doesn’t make it any less childish, I know.




right now chels and I are living in the apartment, and chelsea’s old bed that I’m moving up to salem with me is right where his used to be, and the bookcases and the steam on the bathroom mirror, and everything has become so tangled and convoluted that every time I step through the door it’s an assault.

and as much as the change doesn’t help, or the faint thoughts of eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, the ambivalence and tarnished clichés of my family and the people at work just aggravate me at this point.

so I drive around in the dark every day and try to put into words why I’m so unhappy.

and, well, aside from the obvious,


I think it’s a good idea to move up to salem for good. I’m not sure about the absence, but I think the distance will help. or at least not hurt. and at this point, I’ll take any help I can.







ash @ 2:23 PM