Day Three, Part II

Part II

It is so cold. I didn't realize.

I went to to the car for church,

and Kendon had locked the

Bonneville and taken the keys

with him. I was late. Great. Had

to walk all the way to the guys

dorm and wait for him in the

peircing wind. I could see

Santanna right up front. Hi,

Santanna. I miss curling up in

you. Please keep my Levi safe.
After choir, Bro Don didn't have

time for tryouts. A wasn't sure

whether to feel relieved or not.

Time to kill... and no idea what

to do. Usually, I would go take a

nap. But I had slept all morning.

I headed out to the car anyways

just to get warm and listen to

music. But I knew that if I sat

there, I would just be waiting to

see you arrive. I miss you so

much. It's not fair. Why do I

miss you but you don't miss me

any more? I can't understand it.

My Levi would miss me. He just

would.
I drove to starbucks. A cinnamin

dolce latte... but I wanted to

try something else. Something

different, anything. Caramel

macchiata sounded good, add whip.

It wasn't as great as my

cinnamin, but I wanted the

change. I tried their spinach

feta wrap - I swear I'm a sucker

for gormet food - and it was

nasty. Babe, watch out. UGH. Like

watery tofu. Nastyyyyyyyy.
I came back and saw you hanging

out up front. I had to wonder.

You never did that before. Who is

it exactly that you're talking

to. Tim, it looked like. I didn't

recognize anyone else. You looked

soooo dang sharp. Hair styled.

That new tan suit that I never

got to ask you about. You went to

sit alone. Alone? Where was your

new freshman friend? Or was that

a one time thing? My mind was

running a million directions.

Really, I'm not sure if you want

to hear it. Why are you sitting

alone, babe? Is it a statement

that now you're free from all

responsibilities? Are you

hurting? Did your friends not

have room for you? Or is it

because Amanda is sitting the

next row over, just like last

week and the week before

that...... I didn't know what to

think. I'm stumped.
I did see you on your phone non

stop. Hmmm. Facebook that

intruiging now? Or are you

texting someone? Who? Who is

distracting you to pieces right

in church? I was confused. Sad.

For all the times you ignore my

texts, you're glued to your

phone. IT hurt, deeply.
Did you see me in choir, babe? I

didn't want to look at you and

make you sad. It was hard to sing

such a preppy song, but the words

made me sad, too. Foreign lands

need Jesus.... how could you

forget Ukraine? They need help so

badly.
During handshake time, you left.

I never saw you come back. Did

you go find friends to sit with?

Take off to meet that person you

were texting? Or just leave? I

wish I knew.
I had to leave early myself for

Bread bash. I didn't see Santanna

anywhere. I looked. I will always

look.
On the way, it was so cold out.

Dark was falling. On Rockwell and

16th, I saw a mom and two young

boys walking along the side of

the road. They were white.

Bundled in hooodies with hoods

up. The wind was so cold. I felt

a huge streak of grief. A mom and

two boys walking. It reminded me

of your stories when you were

with you mom. It broke my heart.
That is who my Levi is to me. Not

that cool as ice, popular as

heck, untouchable Heartland stiff

who has no commitment or respect.

But the one in the silly bean

hat, broke beyond broke,

struggling from a hard life, as

real and deep and precious as

I've ever encountered in my

entire life. That is who I miss.

I miss him so much. He inspired

me. He opened my eyes like no one

ever did. I don't want some suit

from Heartland who can joke the

jokes and preach the sermons and

jive with all the guys and have

perfect hair and an emptiness in

his eyes. I want my Levi who

didn't have time to do his hair

and tried his best to make do

with what he had, but who loved

God and loved me and wanted to

help others. He inspired me, and

he captured my heart. He was

different than anyone I'd ever

met at Bible college. He wasn't

like any of the others.
Joy called me over to her. I

really like the Hintons. John and

Mallory. Joy, especially. She

introduced me to her younger

sister, Jone. Yes, Jone, not

Jane. Joney (Jonie for short) was

really cute. I wondered vaguely

if she and Kendon would get

together someday. She seemed very

sweet. JOy asked me how it went

with you when my parents were

here. When she heard the nutshell

version, she offered to send John

to go talk to you. It make me

laugh, and start crying. I miss

Steven. He'd straighten you out

like a peice of wire. But I

couldn't bear to do anything to

you. I love you. I just want to

help you while you go through

this time... but you don't want

me to be there. So I don't know

what to do. I'm so lost.
On the way to Panera, Kendon

played me Russian songs. He knows

how badly I am hurting. He went

into Oncue but told me, "This is

a song I got when Ruslana left

me." I was at college when he met

and fell in love with Ruslana, a

blonde girl from Dneprepetrovsk.

They were together for a year?

And then she left him. I know it

broke his heart, but he greives

quietly. I squeezed his hand. We

don't share a lot of words, but

we have developed such a close

relationship with what you did to

me. Suddenly, the playful

freshman kid is now a quieter,

kinder brother to me. It isn't

Steven, but it means so much.
I miss my Russian music. I miss

the beat of it as I trip down the

cobblestone streets of Sumskaya

downtown, dash into coffee cafes,

shop in the boutiques. I don't

miss the poverty, but I miss the

feeling. Leather, high heels,

lipstick. The song he played for

me said, 'ti ne moi geroi. Eta ne

igra.' which translates, 'you

aren't my hero and this isn't a

game.' It was a sad song. But you

will always be my hero.
Then he played Low by FloRida and

T-Pain. Haha I love that song! A

club mix. "The whole club was

looking at her....!" It stirs my

blood. Like Johhny Cash

prescribed, If you feel blue,

just get rhythm. It helps, in a

way.
Oh. At church in the foyer I ran

into Michelle Grimm and Jenna

Anderson. My original Panera

girls. I wish I had time to hang

out and just talk work and life.

They are looking great. I wish I

felt as great.
Who am I?
I don't know who I am anymore.
The verse from Isaiah 54 is still

in my head. God called a women

forsaken and greived in spirit. I

feel so engulfed in this grief.

The tears, the pain, the sheer

betrayal. But God can still use

me... somehow....
I think of Regine's Book.
Today I googled literary agents.

I want to see my book published.
Bread bash was okay. Angie hugged

me sooooo tight. I hung out with

her and Kayla and Kelsey. Angie

said she might come next

Sunday!!! It made me so excited,

in a small way. Any emotion is

small in me right now.
Graduation is 66 days. No

kidding. That's exactly this

semester all over again. In a

way, it gives me hope. If you

could leave me and be so far away

in 60 days.... could you come

back in 60 more? That is my

prayer. Not going to lie. When I

wake up, that is my prayer. That

God would change me in any way he

needs to so that I can be the

girl for you. And that God would

change you so that you can be the

man for me. That he would do it

in 60 days. I pray for his will,

ultimately... which is a hard

prayer to pray and mean it... but

I do mean it. I just feel

convinced in my heart that when I

prayed about you when we were

courting, and even before, that

he meant it when he gave me

peace. So my prayer is that God

will do with me whatever he needs

and do with you whatever it takes

to bring you back before I

graduate.... so that I can

graduate with a smile, and not

with grief in my eyes.
I love you, Levi Pierce.
I love you still.

Day Three, Part I

Day Three.

Hello, headache. Sunday, March 10

2013. I didn't sleep much,

tossing and turning, afraid of

the shadows around the closet and

the whispering wind against my

window. I woke up early and felt

like my skull was going to

explode. The pulsing, pounding

pain behind my bloodshot eyes

drove me to the fountain for a

splash of water. Even my mouth

felt dry and overused. A sign

that I had probably spent a good

morning of the night screaming

and sobbing in my dreams.

Horrible dreams. Dreams of you

and me in the field outside the

hotel on the north part of town,

surrounded by wildflowers, the

wild tree behind us, laughing and

glowing in each other's gaze....

until you stand up and run away.

Start Santanna, and zoom away,

leaving me stranded in the field,

off a highway, in the middle of

nowhere. Wandering around, unable

to get home. Crying for you,

confused, frightened, but you

never come back. You didn't even

look in your rear view mirror as

you drove away.
Usually the dilemna of what to

wear is enough to bog down my

morning, but the new dilemna of

where to go to church? what

Sunday school class? Where to sit

during the main service? what to

do if I saw you? What to do if I

didn't? Where to park? What to do

when it was time to get up and

leave? I bawled back into bed and

hid under the covers, a

whimpering pitiful mound of

Noelle puddle. I couldn't stand

to process it, any of it, any

more. I couldn't pretend to be

strong and happy when I was

shattered and on fire inside. My

chest burned so badly, a weight

pressed so heavy on my chest, the

sobs turned into a minor panic

attack and I groaned against the

darkness and gasped for breath,

for sanity, for any lifeline. My

headache exploded with the tears

and the effort of breathing.
I eventually fell asleep,

exhausted, and awoke only when

the RA was shaking me, asking why

I wasn't going to church. Screw

you. Will the whole world just

leave me alone for one hour?

Sleep didn't come so easily again

and I spent most of the morning

grasping my head between my

fists, trying to calm the

headache. Oh, I longed for your

gentle, soothing hands to massage

away the tension and gently

massage my little glands. But my

own hands were not as skilled and

there was no releif. I tore into

my hair and wept afresh, wildly,

drowning in denial and defeat.

The Levi who held me so tenderly

really didn't love me? It was all

a lie? A masquarade?
Humiliation sapped my strength

and I lay burning in shame and

anguish of soul. I didn't

understand anything.
Eventually, my phone went off and

it was midafternoon. Kendon had

left the car for me in the

middle. He was hanging out with

Josh, eating pizza probably. I

wanted to text you, to call you,

to beg you to come to me. I threw

the phone across the room and

listened to it thud against my

roommate's plush covers. I'd

learned my lesson four weeks ago

about throwing it against the

floor. Screens are fragile.
I prayed for a long time before I

could even get up. God, give me

strength. God, salve this pain.

God, bring him back. God, why?
There was no clear answer. Just

the subconscious knowledge that

even when I don't feel him, he is

right there with me grieving

alongside my anguish. I wept that

someone could love me so, when no

one else ever kept their love to

me.
I hadn't eaten since Friday

morning with my parents. Pizza

was out of the question, but my

room was cold. Hot chocolate?

Caramel. Your favorite brand. I

had actually bought the box for

you on Valentines Day and then

chickened out. When I got my mug

from the bookshelf, your gift to

me, Patrick swam up to the glass

and looked at me with anxious,

happy eyes.
Come play?
I took him to the bathroom and

cleaned out his tank. The rudial

task gave me something to focus

on,and the mental pain faded like

a dull throb into the background.

Patrick didn't like being

trappedin my mug but I don't have

the little plastic cup that he

came with anymore. Or the filter

system. I wondered absently if

I'd get it back before you left

Oklahoma City, or if I should

just make a trip to PetsMart and

toss out more money.
"I will never take care of him

again."
Poor Patrick.
Abandoned just the same as me.

You used to talk about him all

the time, even built him his own

shelving unit. Upgraded his tank.

Fussed about feeding and

sleeping habits, cleaning the

water. Lecturered me to death

about it all. And now you didn't

care what became of him, or if

you even saw him again. It is as

if you don't understand that he

misses you. Sometimes, when my

rommates have thier friends over

and my room is loud and bright,

Patrick floats in the water

wiggling his fins, but sad. I

miss the guys.... I can see it in

his little expression.
"I will never take care of him

again."
The tears flowed, mixing with the

water in the sink pooling down

the drains. By the time I had

refilled the tank and applied the

water cleaner, I was as wet as

Patrick. The tears wouldn't stop.
Hot chocolate. A hot shower.

Anything to stop the shakes that

came from the stress and greif. I

would have to leave for choir

soon.
Choir.
A big dream I decided to pursue.

Choir, in a big church. I'd gone

to practice last week, and now

practice again this week. After

the second time in practice, Bro.

Don said I had to do tryouts. Me,

him, the pianist... I can sing,

but I am still so nervous.
I like alto better but I'm in the

soprano side of the choir,

because the alto side is maxed

out. The ladies are nice but

don't seem to notice that I am

even sitting beside them. It's a

little hard on me, but... the

anonymity is nice in a way. I

used to love anonymity. I used to

love hiding, being unknown, being

safe in the shadows. Maybe that

was the mystery and intruige that

made you fall in love with me?

But then you were always onto me

about having more friends, being

more social, being more popular.

It seems that what drew you to me

was the very thing you always

pushed to change about me.
I digress.
Daylights saving time.
I don't know what to wear to

church, or how to do my hair. I

want to be beautiful in case you

look at me... but I don't feel

beautiful anymore. I must be the

ugliest, fattest, most disgusting

girl in the college. Because in

the end my beauty wasn't enough

to even make you look at me when

we talked at the West. Your eyes

zoning out everywhere but on me.

I know I'm not beautiful, but...

I've never felt so worthless in

my life.
I miss my Levi.
He would have something to say

about all this, I'm sure. He

would roll his eyes and say,

"Babe, your fine." He would

gently tussle my hair and turn my

heart with his crooked, innocent

little boy smile. "Baby girl, I

love you just the way you are.

I'm so happy you joined the

choir. I'm so proud to see My

Noelle up there."
I put your heart necklace on and

pull on my boots. I know the old

you isn't the real you living in

current reality. But. Maybe it's

better to be delusional.

Day Two

Day Two

Saturday, March ninth.

Last year, this day was your

Noelle Day. This day was my Levi

Day. This was the day when the

cares of the week crashlanded and

the world came to a screeching

halt. Saturday. The day when I

could see my best friend and

remember how to breathe. Remember

that things are good, the future

still exists beyond Heartland,

and God has a plan for me. A time

to look back on the week and see

the failures and victories, a

time to pray about how we could

have a better week, how we could

glorify God more in the next

people.
Saturday... alone.
This whole year I've spent my

Saturdays alone. I have never had

any idea what you do on your

Saturdays. Do you go on

visitation now? Do you get good

rest from your long week? Do you

do homework? Go out to eat dinner

or go to the caff? My Saturdays

have been so hard.
Kendon takes the car and goes to

work, and I stay stranded on

campus. Stranded. The most

suffocating feeling in the world.

Alone... with no escape...
Every once in a while I'll drop

Kendon off so I have the car and

a means to get off campus. Since

I spend the week going straight

from teaching to work from sunup

to curfew, Saturdays are the only

day for me to do anything off

campus. But I am always so tired

by 10pm that I don't want to

drive all the way up there and

get him. Plus, gas is so

expensive babe... I'm going

through so much money on gas...

it worries me but I don't know

what to do. God will supply, I

know.
I prayed a lot today. Took a long

shower, and cried through it. I

miss you. My room is cold and

empty. I couldn't bear to turn on

the lights but sat in the

darkness and just... greived. For

the best friend who is now gone.

And soon may be gone forever.
Eventually I powered up my

computer and applied to 3 banks.

I don't know what will happen but

I need a change. Panera is

burning me out and I am going

nowhere. I asked my dad what he

thought about a career at Panera

for the next year, as shift

leader/manager, and although he

said he appreciated Panera up to

now, he would much rather see me

with a different classification

of a job. Bank. Jewelry.

Something a little classier than

the food business. That stung.

But it was the direction I needed

from God. My dad even went and

talked to Mike, my district

manager (DM) and still said the

same thing. So, I'm job hunting

now.
I couldn't bear the thought of

going to dinner. I was sure that

since you have a car you might

eat out, but, I didn't want to

have to force you to spend money

to avoid me. So I just prayed

more and tried to do some

homework. The student teaching

assignments are a very heavy

weight.
My mom sent me some verses. They

really helped. From Isaiah 54. It

talked about not being afraid or

ashamed (vs 4) which is hard. I

am very afraid. Losing your love

was the biggest earthquake in my

trust life. How can I trust

anyone now? If two years of your

love confirmed and expressed and

demonstrated and promised over

and over again wasn't real...

what will ever be real? I am

afraid that I will never be able

to love again. I don't know if I

ever want to love again.
And ashamed... I am so

humiliated. How am I supposed to

go to church? Before I was in

denial but now? Seeing you

sitting with your new best

friends is not only going to cut

me alive, but humiliate me.

Because now everyone knows. They

probably knew a long time ago

seeing as how you're a frequent

flyer on FB these days. The

humiliation of being dumped,

abandoned, of not being good

enough. The censer in people's

eyes, wondering what I did, where

I cam short, why I was so stupid

to tell people about the future

when it will never be.... I am so

ashamed.
Verse 6 is really precious to me.

"For the LORD hath called thee as

a woman forsaken and grieved in

spirit."
Wow.
I cried so hard at that. A woman

forsaken. A girl abandoned. It's

right there in the Bible. Grieved

in spirit. Anguished,

heartbroken, shattered. No more

joy, no more dreams, no more hope

and happiness and bliss... just

darkness.
And still God can use me in this

state? He can call me. Somehow as

hard as it is to accept that this

valley is from God's hand, it is.

He allowed you to make the

choices that would lead you

astray, away. I guess He knew

that even though his perfect will

was for us to be together,

growing stronger for his name, he

could accomplish things

regardless with us apart. He

could still use me even broken

and abandoned and bereft. The

hard part is having any desire

left to let him do anything with

me anymore.
I still love you.
I miss my Levi. I wondered about

how your work week finished out.

You never responded to my texts.

I wonder if you see them or if I

am blocked. If you read them or

just instantly delete them now. I

may never know, but... I still

wonder.
My Levi day is over now. I feel

more exhausted than when it

began, and a new week is starting

tomorrow. One hour earlier than

ever.

Day One

Today was hard. March 8th, 2013.

I awoke for the first time and

there was no hope in my life

anymore. I rolled over, and

touched my phone's screen, and

your picture burned brightly into

the still-dark room. And for the

first time, looking at it with

burning salty eyes from crying

through my sleep, I felt the

weight of reality. "I don't love

you... You aren't the girl for

me... not ever...." The words

echoed in my head and my heart

constricted so painfully I had to

close my eyes and remember how to

breathe. I wanted to cry again,

but my body was sending signals

that I'd tortured it enough. I

was parched, weak, and throbbing

in pain. My legs trembled when I

tried to stand up and by the time

I reached my dresser, I was

panting for breath.
Pitiful, really.
But I couldn't change reality. I

couldn't bring you back if I

tried with all my might. For I

had already tried, you see, for

exactly 60 days. From January

13th when you ran away into the

darkness, for 60 excruciating

days I cried and prayed and

chased you and prayed some more

and wrote you and called you and

texted and I tried with all my

might to bring you back.
And the result was that you sat

across from me and yelled at me

when I called you mine, and

refused to even hug me goodbye.

You hate me, and nothing you will

ever say will ever change that

truth. You deliberately chose to

break my heart. And it's so

broken.
I felt numb all day. Numb, dead,

like something run over and cast

aside on the edge of the road to

die on its own. You left me and

you made sure you wouldn't be

around to watch the suffering end

as I died. You up and ran like

the coward your new wonderful

friends have made you to be.
Numb, whimpering, weak. I felt I

wouldn't make it through the day

without keeling over and faiting

but I did. It was easier because

my parents were right there

beside me. I am not alone yet.

No, that will come tomorrow.

Tomorrow I will watch them drive

off campus and I will be all

alone, abandoned in this world. I

do not know if I will live

through tomorrow night.
But today we went to Barnes&Noble

and I cried because I remembered

the summer with you there. The

kisses in the car. The journal

you bought me there. Looking at

maps of Ukraine and Washington.

Looking through books of LInex

and publishing. I found my way to

the classics and picked up a work

of Shakespeare. I couldn't afford

it, but I wanted it so badly.

Unlinke you, I was never

prividledged enough to study his

works. I only longed to know what

you know. I thought about the

festival in the park coming up,

and wondered if you would be

going. Maybe, since you seemed to

have so much more energy and

passion now with your new

friends, you would ask off work

and go. I wanted so badly to go

with you last year. Another

dream, gone with the wind,

burried in the planes of my

distorted miserable excuse of a

heart.
The teen section boasted a new

nonfiction novel: Regine's Book,

The Last Words of a Teen Girl. Of

course the title gripped me. I

carried it to a chair and spent

two hours reading the whole dang

thing. It made me cry and cry and

cry. In 2008 Regine died in

Norway at 17 years old of

MDS/AML. Basically, she had

leukemia and cancer. The book is

the published version of her blog

that she kept as soon as she was

diagnosed. It was joined with

excerpts of her mom's journals

and other records and some of

Regine's photography efforts.

What gripped me was the fact she

was not saved. They did not

believe in heaven. Even to the

very end. She said, "The fear of

not existing never leaves me."

She feared death, because she had

no hope afterwards. She was so

young. I wish that I could die.

Would it change you? If you heard

that I was in a terrible wreck

and in the hospital with hours to

live? would you come? Would you

even care? If I were diagnosed

with cancer? If I had months to

live, would you come back? Would

you abandon your ridiculous quest

to find yourself and leave your

shallow stupid friends and come

back to live out the rest of my

short life with me? Would you

hold me like you once did, and

pray with me like you once did,

and love me like you once did? Or

would you not even care....

Worse, would you pretend to care

but not care enough to come

back.... I wish that God would

take my life. Maybe it would be

the factor needed to change you.

to help you find yourself. To

help you come back. Maybe you

would regret this semester, this

person you've become, this

walking away and leaving me all

alone, so alone. I have never

felt so alone, even when Andrea

left me.
It probably won't happen. But it

is my prayer. That God would do

anything to bring you back, even

if it meant trading long years of

my life for short ones. It would

be worth the trade if it meant

that I had you.
But it probably won't happen. But

I am willing to do anything to

bring you back. To feel you hold

me close against you, to feel

your heat through my clothes, to

smell your scent, to hear and

feel your heart beat, to dissolve

in your strength, feel your

breath on my hair and neck as you

bury your head against me, and

hear your voice say "My Noelle, I

love you." I would die if it

meant I could live that one more

time.
How many times did I live it and

take it for granted?? Too many.

Not at first... I remember that

very first hug, clinging to your

for dear life, knowing deep

inside that nothing lasts and

wanting that hug, that comfort,

that feeling of home to last

forever, refusing to pull back

and let it go. But I stepped back

and looked at you like you asked,

and forever disappeared. I should

have never ever let go of that

first hug. I should have quit

Bible school righ tthen and there

and ran away with you and gotten

married. I should have.
I read Regine's Book and it gave

me something to think about. What

would it be like if I were dead

in a year? We never know the

future. Maybe a disease is eating

away at me already. Maybe that is

why my heart hurts so strangely

at times, lurching in my chest

and constricting me so I can't

breathe. Maybe my days are much

fewer than I think. Maybe I only

have these few days left.
If that were true, if I only had

this next year, I would want you

to go back and have something to

read about each day. I don't know

when you would find the time or

if you would ever find the desire

to get through a blog like that,

but I would want that gift for

you. So you could see the

struggle I face each day, and you

could know that through the pain

and aloneness of this

abandonment, I still loved you.
Because I have no hope left.
But I love you still.

The Log

I used to have a notebook and pen I would grab whenever you would call. Story time! I loved your stories. Learning about you was so intriguing to me. Did you stop loving me because I lost my mystery to you? Just a thought. I was reading our first letters and that word kept reappearing. It is what drew you to me, in your words. Mystery and intruigue. While it is highly possible that familiarity loses some of that intruigue, I felt the familiarity drawing my heart fonder and fonder to yours. I love you so much now I awoke again in tears. Saturday, March 9th. A whole 48 hours after you declared you no longer loved me and never would again. I love you so much and I can't think that you will never be there again. Not even for my graduation? How will I bear to smile on that day? Knowing that I won a stupid diploma paper and lost my best friend, my love, my Levi? It will not be okay.
I digress. Pen and paper. Because my memory is very dysfunctional. At times it works amazing. At times it doesn't work at all. Sometimes it's like the joy or the sadness, whichever the case, blurs out the details and I forget when people say things to me what they said. So after lunch on Thursday, I sat down and wrote down everything that transpired in those bitter, excruciating two hours. I may have forgotten some things. It's not word for word. But maybe it will help us remember what was said, what happened, what we felt, if we can look back and see.

The Log:
I don't love you anymore. We made
a mistake last year, and I don't
think you are the girl for me in
the future.

He talked a lot at first. He
seemed quiet, direct, but he knew
what he was doing. The distnce of
any emotion - in his eyes, voice,
posture - was so hard to handle.
He was simply so content with
where he was at.

One of the few times I say any real emotion,
any inkling of that hate that I know must be
boiling behind the surface, is when he said
Stop telling people I'm running
from God. That's not true. And
it's no one's business. It's
between me and God.

Again when he said,
These people aren't shallow. You
can't judge them and call them
that. THat's denying that they
have any relationship with God.
They may not all be perfect, but
they are souls created in God's
image and need to be ministered
to.
Don't you remmeber Christmas banquet?
When you tried so hard for weeks to reach
out to them? How they took pictures for hours
without ever once including me? Who was
being shallow then? Remember how they raced off
and left us? Even when you broke down? Remember
how you pulled on to campus and cried
and cried and I couldn't even hold you?
You told me I was your best friend because everyone
left you but I never would.

My friends are the result of
broken relationships. If I hadn't
let the strings be broken, then
they wouldn't have left me like
they did. That was my fault, not
thiers, because they were always
there for me before.

Do you miss it?
I won't answer that. Because if I
say yes your emotions will go a
hundred miles an hour, and if I
say no your emotions will go a
hundred miles an hour.
And if you say nothing, they will
too.
That's not my problem. I'm not
going to answer that. There's no
benefit to this conversation.

When he kept ignoring me and
looking at the TV- please look at
me. Plus, his eyes are so
beautfiul.. I've missed them. So
gentle a caramel. I've told you
before. It bothers me to zone out
on something that is moving. Your
eyes are moving. I would rather
look at the TV screen or down at
the table... I don't even know
why I have to explain this to
you.. *bitter, annoyed*

Do you love me?
No.
Are you sorry?
I"m sorry that I hurt you,
because you were not mine to
hurt. I am sorry that I am
hurting you. It's why I didn't
want to meet because I knew it
would hurt you.
The 50 days avoiding me hurt.
That's what your dad says.
He's right.

We are weak. I'm speaking
generally. We need to figure out
GOd in our lives and be strong.
Then we will be ready for
relationships... with whomever
God sends...

What is she like, this girl that
I wasn't good enough to be for
you?
She doesn't exist. Her name is
THE BIBLE. I don't want anyone
else. I only want to be close to
God right now. I want to focus on
my feet and stop looking on the
right and on the left but just
right before me. I"m not going to
be looking at other girls.

I haven't decided if I want you
to give me back my stuff or not.
It's up to you.
Just promise me you will never
hold another girl wearing my coat
I bought you.
It'll be a very long time-
Just promise!
Okay.

How can you recitfy the past two
years?
We weren't good for each other.
We were too young.
TOO YOUNG?!
We are too young. We are just
kids.
Just kids. You used to hate that
term. It used to light a fire in
your whenever people tried to pin
that label on you. When did you
give up and settle? When?
It was too soon after I broke up
with Nikii, and you with Brandon,
granted it was a semester but it
was too soon. It was all based
off emotion and not off prayer.
That's not true. I rmemeber you
told me the difference between
Nikki and me was that you prayed
about me and not about her. In
fact you told me that is why you
told your aunt and grandma about
me, but not about her. Because
you HAD prayed. And I remembered
you prayed.

But I was a worse Christian. I am
a better Christian now.
I don't believe that. I believe
you were a much better Christian
back then. The way you have been
acting for 50 days is not the way
that God acts.
I missed church, failed classe,s
slept all the times, didn't do my
best.
Do you know why the righteous man
falls 7 times? because Satan is
opposing him! DO you know why you
have no struggle? because you are
no longer a threat to Satan now.
You are nothing but status quo.

Are you leaving or did you just
say that?
I am praying about it. Why do you
want to know.
I hate to see someone come so
close and not finish.

You need to fill the void in your
heart Noelle that I know I am
causing. You are very tangible
and it will be so hard without me
there every day.... you need to
do something for you, that's what
I told my mom...
I did do something for me. That
was YOU.
Well that's no longer an option.
I know.

I miss taking care of you.
Are you eating? sleeping? taking
care of yoruself? *he shrugs*
Can I see your hands? *no new
scars*
Don't do that I'm a heartland
student!
When have you ever cared.
I care now.
What did you put on your pass?
I didn't put this restaurant.
See. You are a hypocrite with me.
You hold one standard to me but
another to yourself.
I don't agree.
Okay.

I feel that I can't talk to you.
Whoever influenced you - whoever
they are - they are in your head
and they are ALL you can hear
now. You can't hear me anymore.

There is a movie called Signs and
this woman is pinned and her
husband comes to see her and asks
the sheriff is This the last
time that I will ever get to talk
to my wife? How am I supposed to
know what to say when it's the
last time I will ever talk to
you??

You need to pray for Justiny and
Forrest. Forrest arrested after
taking a knife to mom. Mom
disappeared can't get in contact
with her. Davina not answering
his calls anymore.

Facebook, that he deleted them. I
did that for me and not for them.
Plus I told you that I don't have
control over my FB right now.
Which is why you post every
day.... sure....

Noelle you need to say what you
need to say whether it makes me
mad or not. if it is said in the
right spirit than I need to be in
that spirit...

Babe, I ....
You can't call me that anymore.
Call me Levi.
*I bawl.*

I still love you.
I will always be the constant for
you. I will always love you. I
will never ever break the pinky
promise we made. I will always
always be here for you.
I know what I promised before...

Work called me in at 1230.
Thank you for coming.

Thank you, Noelle, for talking.
Really?
Yes.
I don't think it helped any.

I don't understand your dad. It
is all riddles with him.
I am counseling with Bro. O-
something, my favorite
pastor/evangelist in Ponca and
other places. I might sit out
next year to be with my family.

My car was locked.
No.
Why did you check the door?
Because you left my stuff on the
floor with the trash.
Because you were watching me!
I didn't realize it was a crime.
Don't like being watched,

Why do you glare at me?
I look at you with pain.
Why?
Because I know I am hurting you.
Okay but that is not the look I am
talking about. I am talking about that
horrible glare. You made very girl next
to me turn and ask why you hated me
because of that look.
Because I just wanted to get my lunch
and leave!
I hate being cornered, and you had
cornered me.
I'm sorry I got in the way of your dinner, Levi.
*grief and irony*

He wanted to badly to be independent of
any connection to me. Through friends on
Facebook, through calling him any special
name, through any responsibility of how I would
feel or cope afterwards. Even his stupid trash,
suddenly became a matter of possessive territory.
My receipts are mine!
I didn't think you'd mind.....???!

I am keeping this *he takes our journal and
pulls it to his side of the table.*
Why?
If it had been any motive such as I miss it, I
don't want to forget, these were the best days and
I don't want them to make you sad, etc., I would
have gladly given it.
But his motives were so selfish.
I don't want it to be another Andrea box.
Which I take to mean, he doesn't want me
sitting with anyone else in a field crying my heart
out over a pain that will never leave, and the notes that
flutter through the grass be in his handwriting.

What about Patrick? It is his birthday next week.
I don't think I will ever be able to care for him again...
Not EVER?!?! *heartbreak*
No.....
What will I do with him!?
Give him to one of your kids!
*the smile in his eyes almost real*
I felt my heart snapping as I looked at him.
There IS a kid I want to give him to....
*infering Levi*
He looked disappointed. I know.

We went around and around about the fact that he
truly seems convinced that last year he wasn't
walking with God, and this year he is. It's so ludicrous
I feel I may go insane trying to understand it in my head.
How can you look at the blog, our journals, even the own
memories in your head and think that?!?! It's just not true.
And regardless, you are not walking closer with God now.
You may be trying to get closer to God than ever before,
but he would never had have you abandon me. God doesn't
do that. I know that.

Because he seemed so arrogant about being so
spiritual now, I took out my Bible and challeneged him.
If this is really God, show me one verse where he led you
to this.
He refused, for a very long time. Flipping back and forth,
saying he couldn't find anything in the Bible.
He looked at some of my markers and I wondered why.
Finally I had to defy him.
I won't do this.
God says be ready ALWAYS to give an answer to
ANY man who wasks according to the hope that is
within you. If they was really of God, I am asking you
now and God commands you to show me.
He turned to Amos 5.
I don't think I will ever read that chapter the same way
for the rest of my life, whether I die this year or when I
am old and grey.
He read it over and over again.
It was his first sermon.
*my heart broke*
His first.... I had wanted to hear it so bad, and now I
never never would.
It was 5 minutes over, so yeah, my grade wasn't that great.
But I know you will be an amazing preacher. I know it.
He explained that he felt that he had built
vineyards and houses but he would never eat out of.
Because he felt that he had built his time with me and
his time at heartland hadn't been focused on building a
relationship with God.
The verse about Bethel and Gilgal, all the things in the past
that had never been intended to become idolds.
It was really hard for me to follow. I think by this point in
the conversation my body was weak and I was growing
cold and numb... dead. I think by then I gave up.

He had to go to work.
He said he was invited here, and didn't know if he could
just leave. He said that it was for ME, bitterly, as if he
hated doing anything for me anymore, spending the gas,
the time, any effort at being honest...
I suppose it is true. He hates me now and the smallest
memory of me must be like acid.

He tried to keep the journal. I wouldn't let him.
Because I'm afraid if you did, you would destroy it.
False! he was mad, but he was walking out and I didn't
have a chance to say anything. He was the one who
was walking out. If he didn't destory the journal, why
would he destroy us? It makes no sense to me.
If we are truly over forever, if there is no love for you
for me forever, tehn why not destroy it.

I asked him for a hug. Begged him. He used the heartland
excuse again, and I couldn't help but fall into his arms and
cling to him like I had clung that day in the airport.
For dear life.
Knowing the minute I let go, you would be gone forever
from my grasp and my arms would always be empty now.
Knowing as soon as I looked up, the reality of you and
your love would dissolve into the reality of who you
are now.
You told me to let go. I couldn't, I couldn't.
My dad even yelld at me.
It just made it worse, but I held on until I counted to 17.
17. The day we became official in November.
17. The day I would always grieve.
Then I let go.
You had kept your arms off me and denyed me even the
slightest pressure of your body against me for the goodbye.
Even the slightest effort... you refused.
I had never believed such coldness and cruelty to be possible
from my best friend.
I am still in shock.

We left. I watched you go, and I couldn't stop watching.
You drove away... like you said, not looking
right or left. Purposed with your anger and your mistakes,
rather than the great spiritual clause you tried to pretend.
I knew I was probably seeing you, the real you and not the
fake mask at heartland, for the last time for the rest of my
life. I had those few fleeting seconds to sear those images
on my brain to last forever, for the next fifty years.
I will never forget that feeling when you disappeared.

Abandoned.
My best friend, my love, my Levi, my husband, my sweet prince,
has abandoned me.

A Conglamerate of Broken Promises

You promised you would always be there. You promised you would never, ever leave. You promised you would always love me. That you would be different than everyone else....
And you left.
January 13th, 2013 you walked away and didn't look back. On March 7th, 2013 at the order of my father you sat across from me at the West and told me to my face that you didn't love me anymore and you would never love me again. Maybe you really stopped loving me long ago, however. Maybe it was over Christmas break when you went back to the world you called "suffocating" and spent a month surrounded by other influences. Maybe it was before that when we were fighting so badly you wouldn't even wish me goodbye when I flew out to Arizona. Maybe it was long, long ago and I just never saw it. Maybe all I've seen is love when love didn't really exist.
All I know is that you promised.
Over, and over, and over again. I read back through the blog posts. Especially the first ones? They were litterally exploding with your love and excitement. For God. For me. For us. In that order, too.
Where did it go? you asked.
I ask the same question.
You hurt me, Levi, that night you took your car and zoomed off campus and left me standing there in the cold, essentially stranded. I felt my heart constrict in surprise and fear, and it has never been okay since. You hurt me when you ruined my coat with hot chocolate. You hurt me that you are so convinced I was going to throw it on you, when I was just trying to get you warm because I was frustrated and trying to show I still cared. You hurt me so badly when you ran away, away, into the dark where I couldn't follow. You hurt me when you ignored me for weeks. The silence, hot and angry and confused. You hurt me when I cried and you didn't even reach out to apologize. You hurt me with the next silence, cold and stony and smug. I watched you petrify into a cold, hard heart of someone I don't recognize anymore and it hurts like hell. You hurt me so baldy. With each agonizing day, not knowing, not knowing, crying and wondering and wrestling from feeling you are at fault and should fix it, to I miss you so much I don't care I just want to fix this mess. You hurt me those few days I couldn't handle the silence anymore and ran to find you. At church, on campus. Just a few times, so few, for so many days. Each time, I was trying and you were not. Although talked to you even so briefly was like a salve for a huge wound, I walked away with the bitter gall of knowledge that I had tried, and you hadn't. I was chasing you and you didn't care to pursue me any more.
You hurt me, Levi, with every day you broke your word. When you didn't text me to sleep. When you didn't write the letters back in answer to mine. When you started up your Facebook agian and posted, posted, posted... without me. When you deleted my friend request and blocked me. When you blocked my family, my relatives... the people who only wanted to offer you a home and family that you've been without your whole life. You hurt me so deeply when you rejected them. What did they ever do to you? They did nothing, and yet they received the blunt end of your anger and coldness.You hurt me so badly be that. You hurt me on Valentines Day. I don't think I cried so much in my whole life. I held onto Fevraal and my old roses from last year, read the blog post from last year, and cried my heart out. When I texted you... you rejected me. You hurt me deep inside. And you hurt me again on the ice skating activity. When you didnt' come. Didn't care. Just didn't care. You hurt me when you glared at me and walked out of the cafeteria. You hurt me when you walk around laughing with your shallow new friends - too busy for me, but obviously not too busy for them. You hurt me when you'd wear your mask at church and pretend to be a great CHristian when I know the last few months have been the evidence of a weak Christian. It hurt me so badly every time you said "you need to go" and the resentment at my very presence, my utter existence, glinted in your eyes. That hurt me so badly.
I miss your eyes, the old ones. The ones warm and gentle and tender. The ones who cared. Not about being "Status quo." Not about being on the "heartland page." Not about being "just like everyone else." Not about "being a kid" and "blending in" and caring only for yourself. Not those eyes, the cold caramel eyes so alien and terrifying to me. I miss the old ones. Warm, like butterscotch, and glowing. Glowing from within. Your passion that lit your soul and animated your spirit, glowing out of your beautiful eyes. But your passion was always tender, gentle... precious. So precious. Tempered by cautioun, tempered by wisdom, tempered by humility. I miss those eyes. I could get lost in them, staring all day and feeling the awe of the amazing soul that God created in you.
I miss my Levi.
It cut the hardest, I think, during our talk at The West when in mid sentence, you cut me off because I called you an endearment. It hadn't even registered to me; it was just how I feel towards you; I love you, and I've been in the habit of demonstrating my love thorugh my speech for the past two years. It cut because you have become so distant, so cold, that it must have grated against your heart and bounced right off. You instantly repelled it. You despised and resented my love. That cut so deep. That you were already so far past the "break up point." and you had never told me. I was just facing it for the first time, and you were already three months (or more??) down the road from it, glaring at me across the table, rebuking me. That hurt so badly I felt my physical heart lurch in my chest, straining so badly I was afraid I would need to get up and walk away so I didnt' have a heart attack. Choking back the pain, refusing to allow it to register, groping so hard for self control and denying my body and mind any reaction to it, I couldn't help the tears that leapt from my soul and down my face. I wanted to break down and weep, to feel the pain flow through me, to give release to a heart that was so restricted with stress and pressure that I was afraid it was going to burst. But I tried to be strong. I tried so hard to be strong for you, the whole time. To push aside who I felt about everything you said, and only focus on saving us, if at all possible, in any way. I was strong that day at that table and you called me weak. The truth is, I was strong enough to fight the pain in trying to fight for us, and you were weak. Weak enough to give up your responisbilities, commitments, and promises, and walk away without remorse. You have become so weak.
But I miss my Levi.
The little one, you know? The one who didn't have a mom or a dad. The one who was always strong because he had to be. Who wasn't a kid, who was a grownp, because he grew up so very long ago. I miss him. I loved him, and I wanted to spend my life with him. I still do.
I miss your stories. About the stone house, where you would play outside an dyour dad would walk you down the road to school. About the big house, where you would wait ouside the bus for school and lived with your mom. About your dad's yellow car coming to get you. About the cool things your dad helped you build. About the places where he took you, places I wanted to see, about the places you loved. Strawberry Island. Sandra's house. Your Grandma's. The original Starbucks in Seattle. So many places... will we never see them? Will we never spend a day a week a month a year chasing each other around Puget Sound and the wine valley seeing the places, holding hands, living? Will you go back and find it suffociating you again, and I'm not there. Your boat, your dad's car... a little cabin in the woods? So many dreams. So deep a love. This love these dreams still burn within me, but they are dreams that may never see the light. I say "may" because I am still in denial.... or maybe because my hope is that strong.... somehow against all these decisions you have made, against months of running from God and your responsibilities and now I'm facing many many more.... I still hope that at the end of it, you will come back to me.
Although, since my dad told you not to bother me, I doubt it will happen the way I see it in my mind. Sometimes, when I lie down adn can't sleep, because the tears slipping down my face and soggying my pillow and I'm cold, I think about what it would feel like to have you come back. My big dream was Valentines Day. That you would be there with roses, and a letter, and we'd share lunch and talk about the painful weeks and you would be courageous enough to try to fix them. My next dream was the ice skating activity. You could have been there, waiting to see which bus I got on. Right there in the dark like you used to be two years ago, when you were different than everyone else instead of in love with being just like them all. We could have skated, and maybe cried, and sat down on the bleachers and started all over again in the place where we began two years ago. My next big dream was when my parents came. Surely, if outside stimulus would help influence change, it would have to be this one. They came and you worked... and then you agreed to see me at The West and even though I knew was it was about, that it was the end and not the beginning, I spent all night on my knees beside my bed and prayed. and prayed. and cried and prayed. And when I woke up my body felt so weak but I knew that God could do it if He wanted. He could create a miracle. I prayed that He would give you something in the preachign that morning, some kind of fire, some kind of conviction... something. And that you would surprise not only me but also my family and you would be there with big flowers and a tight hug and tears in your eyes and we could talk and pray and figure things out. And you could talk to my dad. And be honest with how you feel about him (riddles) and he could try to help you not feel so confused. And you could apologize to my little brother and to my mom.... and we could hug on you and it would be family again, the family I dreamed of.
But I walked in and it was such a little thing, but the minute you rejected the water sitting on the table, refused to touch it, it was like I knew. You didn't want to touch anything. You wanted to walk away without a trace of dust on your shoes from having been in my life, been near my family, been in front of my parents. You were so distant, so closed, so.... changed. I looked into your eyes and I felt something break inside, and the next two hours I listened to your words that hammered the break into a shatter of a million fragments. A heart that was once broken to the point of suicidal pain, that God had stitched back together using your gentle, precious and strong hands... and now I was watching the world end all over again.
It is so hard to wrap my head around the knowledge that you held me two years ago when I cried over Andrea and Chicago. It is so hard to wrap my head around the day that we sat in Santanna in Nichols Hills Plaza and I had the courage to finally tell someone about the person I had lost and who walked away from me. About the day in the park behind the trees when I opened my Andrea box for the first time and wept at the memories of a love that was as real and active as ours. It is so hard for me to understand that years of promising you'd never do that, years of promising you would nver, ever leave, you would never be like the others, that you were different... and you chose to be just like them. Knowing the consequences. Knowing that it would do to me. Knowing, and still proceeding.
You said you wanted to take our journal. I would have given it to you in a heartbeat if you wanted it because it mattered to you. Because you treasured those days, those letters, those dreams and memories. But you don't. You could care less. You left them rotting among the garbage in your car, too proud and bitter to even pick them up and put them back in the box for safeskeeping. I was afraid you'd burn them, or throw them away. Ultimately, you only wanted the book because you don't want the guilt. You don't want to accept the fact that you're the one who is on the other side of that story now. The one who walked away. The one who stopped caring, stopped loving, the one who lied and broke every promise and every piece of my heart. You wanted the journal because you didn't want the pain for me - but you were denying reality. Book or no book, you walked away and the pain would always be there. The story would always read that way.
I didn't want this for our story.
Our story was better.
Our story deserved better.
Our story deserved to live, to continue, to perserve, to survive. Our story deserved it. Because God was writing our story. He was writing about two people with faults and weaknesses, and painful pasts, who came together during tough times and formed an alliance so strong they spent almost two years without a single day apart. Emotionally, physically, and spiritually. They wanted to make each other strong Christians, and they did. They wanted to help tohers, and they did. They wanted to reflect God in thier lives and I think that they did. Satan opposed.. thier flesh opposed... circumstances opposed... doubt and fear and exhaustion and anger and resentment all crept in to oppose... and our story failed. It failed when I said I love you still and you said I don't love you any more and never will again.
Levi deserved better. He deserved to make his dad proud. He deserved to live up to a promise for the first time in his life and feel that accomplishemnt, feel that peace in his heart and soul.
I know I made mistakes. I know I have a sin nature and weaknesses. But I know I have a love for you that is genuine. I don't bounce from person to person. I wait until God brings them in and then I love them with all of my soul. And that is you, was you, will always be you..... I love you and it is not enough.
I don't know what else to say.
I think you are a coward. I know you hate it when I call you anything negative, but I really feel without any malice intended, that you are running from being brave. That you are taking the easy way out. Emotionally, spiritually, financially, in every way. You said it yourself when you said I'm just a kid, I'm just too young. The biggest cop outs in history. Did you ever hear David whining about being a kid when he took out a bear and a lion? No. Did you ever hear Danial whining about being too young when God took his whole family and put him in front of  the king? No. Do you ever hear Jospeh bewailing his lack of experience when he was put in the Egyptian's house and demanded to work? No. No one in the Bible ever used their youth as an excuse who did anything spectacular. You could be so spectacular. I know it! I know it because I've seen the potential. God created something special in you. He created such perserverence, such gentleness, such clarity of thought and purpose, such compassion. And for the first time since I've known you, you are rejecting that and refusing God to use that potential. You feel weak. You feel young. You feel inexperienced and immature. I understand that.... I really do.... life is so big and huge and scary. But who would put those thoughts in your head but the Devil? He would love to have you hiding at HEartland Baptist Bible College or Yakima Bible Baptist Church or at some internship somewhere or anywhere you may run and hide. The sad part, the tragic part, is being able to look and see that you think you are doing such great things for God but your own words as well as your actions prove that you are not. You took the great things for God and threw them in the trash, and you are trying with all your might to substitute for something less. I'm not surprised it is easier for you to be in church every service, to make your ministries, to need less sleep. Why would Satan oppose you now? He has you so convinced you're a great Christian doing nothing for God that it is of no strategic point to try to bother you. Let you sleep. Let you get good grades. Let you bounce in to church and bounce out. He just has to keep that influence whispering in your ear so that you forget who you were, what God once asked of you, and you blindly shuffle on. Maybe even bounding on. Trying to convince me and the little Levi that I know is deep within you that everyone else is just fine and so you can be just like them, too. Because it's easier. Of course it is.... and that is why you are a coward.
But I love you still. Because I saw the hero in you. I saw the courageous young man who would make every other Christian at Heartland look like a child. Who loved God so fiercely, and was opposed by Satan on every side... and who fell.... so hard.... I love you. I see glimpses of you. The fact you even came to see me at The West. Even though you were still taking the easy way out, you at least put some effort into it. And when you said that you found out why you always listen to music? running from yourself? I'm not sure what to thnk of that. Maybe it's true, maybe it's not, all I know is that you really do want to be all you can for Christ...... the sad part is that you have swallowed a lie, hook line and sinker, and you won't listen to anyone tell you otherwise.
It breaks my heart.
My heart is so broken, I don't even know what else to write. What about learning calculus on the floor? teaching your Russian? chinese and dr. pepper? what about Patrick? what about our blog? what about meeting your cousins? the lake? the hugs and soft soft kisses? what about them? where did they all go, Levi? Only you know. Only you can fix it. Only you can bring them back.
You have broken my heart. I am trying so hard to respond differently than I did two years ago but I'm not going to lie... I don't want to live with this anguish. I don't want to wake up every day in tears, asking myself Is it over yet today? knowing that you are waking up and making the conscious decision, I won't do it today. I won't go back to her. I won't go back to when I knew Satan opposed me. I won't love her today.
But I love you today.
Lonely, broken Rigel.
All alone in the night sky.
All all alone.

Where did everything go

Where did everything go... the laughter. The joy... the trust... the care... the sunlight..

I miss you... I always will and always do miss u... idk where the joy went my heart is bleeding and I am hurting.... I screwed up this life. I screwed up everything and I'm ashamed... I will always love you