Day six.
Six. As in, a week. A whole
freaking week since I sat a
breath away from you at The West.
A breathless distance, my soul
both petrified in fear and
overwhelming hurt as well as
clinging to yours with as strong
a pull as ever. Your magnet,
remember? Or did you forget... or
not even care anymore to think
about. Well, I think about it. I
feel it still, when apparently
you don't. I feel it deeply.
A broken magnet, now. Always
broken, I guess. That's all I
ever am. It's like the
disentigration of the Naval
Academy dream literally altered
my chemical makeup so that now,
success is impossible. Broken.
Even a small week has an effect.
Did you know? Denial, utter
shock, the blur, the adrenaline,
the physical overload, the
spiritual vaccuum, the slow
motion.... numb. I noticed I stop
thinking, "if he doesn't love me
anymore" to "because he doesn't
love me anymore." And from "if he
ever comes back," to "because
he's never going to come back."
From, "like it will be again," to
"like it used to be." It wasn't
even a choice. I just woke up and
drove out of town and started
teaching and before I knew it, I
was talking to my kids about
Patrick and about the guy who
bought him for me, the guy who
loved me, the guy who left and is
gone. Gone, as in not coming
back; rather than gone as in
temporarily absent. My kids were
so kind. They loved Patrick. One
of the quiet little boys, Brett,
wrote a poem about Patrick. It
made me smile. At least someone
cares.
I didn't do so great on my
evaluation by Dr. Babuschak. I
didn't realize I needed to have a
lesson plan filled out for him to
grade. I had my working lesson
plan, spread out over the weeks
I've been teachign and the
remaining weeks, filled with
scribbles and scrawled notes,
aflutter with a rainbow of
stickynotes. He wasn't impressed
and went woefully to the back of
the room, shaking his head and
jotted oh-so-important things on
his paper. At least he said he
enjoyed the lesson, said it was
very unusual to have a class
respond so much, especially guys
to an English class, let alone a
writing class, and today we were
doing poetry to boot. I just
shrugged. They are good kids, I
said. Because it's true.
Eden's birthday is April 6th.
She'll be 14. I need to get her a
gift. I never see anyone else
from the MacIntosh household.
I was so tired, my legs trembled
by second hour. So tired of
standing, being in charge, doing
all the talking. I may be a good
public speaker and I may not be
afraid of crowds and I may have a
gift to teach... whatever.... I
don't have the endurance for
being the main act day after day,
hour after hour nonstop. I get
thirsty and nervous and so, so
tired.
Duke.
I got to focus on him a little
during seatwork time. He plays
guitar, bass, piano. Not any band
instruments. Here are some of his
poems, because I'm sure you're
sick of reading my own words by
now.
This is an acrostic poem.
GUITAR
Gently hand crafted
Uses you
In
The
Art of playing and
Reading music
These are ABC poems.
An American
Boy
Cowardly
Dances to the
Extravagent song in the key of
F
I told him a little about my
pitiful piano skills, about my
violin teacher quitting on me
because she said I was a waste of
her time.
At the end of class, Duke raised
his hand and said he wanted to
read a poem he'd been working on
while zoning out on my lecture on
connotation/denotation.
It was another ABC.
Amazingly, she
Blossoms, she
Certainly loves
Dogs, she
Engcourages your
Feelings
Greatly with
Happiness and
Intimate
Joy,
Kindly
Loves,
Miss
Noelle
O'Brien is the best
Person.
I about bawled in class, in front
of 35 kids. I had to make it not
a big deal. It was our secret,
his and mine. I've got your back,
Duke.
Sandy Chambers, my teacher, told
me that Duke is restless because
he lives so far away that he can
never socialize with his
classmates, have them over, etc.
His parents are pulling him at
the end of the year and putting
him in a public school closer so
that he can start having
friendships. I felt this huge
sadness, this despair, that I
will never see him again and have
no way to ever contact him. I
wish I could know him longer. I
don't want him to walk out of my
life. I shouldn't have gotten
attached. Why did I let myself do
it? I don't know why.
Broken, that's why.
Broken.
First day of the new celebration.
C2, 2013. Hello, pasta. Rustic
Penne Bolognese. Tortellini
Alfredo. Buttered Noodles. Pesto
Cavascchati. I was on line all
night, and it was rough. So much
to do, and not enough time. 45
minutes in the freezer just
pulling pastas to thaw for the
next day and daydotting them and
junk.
Kendon took Bro. Rick out to
lunch today to the Charleston's
Steakhouse, so Gabby drove me to
work. She is tired and sick. It
seems like everyone is sick, and
I haven't even had a sniffle. I
guess I should thank God, but all
I feel is the irony. Of course I
should be healthy now that it
benefits no one but me.
Steven called, and Nina. I can't
figure out what is bugging him,
but he is so down. I wish I could
give him a hug. He sent me a box
in the mail. Just little things I
miss from home.
Ukraine.
I want to go back. It's been on
my mind since you left me, the
day you asked me to pray about
going to Ukraine to help my
parents. Now going back isn't an
option for me, because it is what
you always pushed. "I want you to
be at home," you would say. I
never understood it. Maybe even
way back then, it was your way of
saying that you didn't want me.
You didn't want to be responsible
for me. I was blind, I guess.
Mary and I talked dogs. I found a
canine protection training
academy here in town. I don't
know how much it costs, but they
train your dog to protect your
person if you ever feel
threatened. I am so in. That's
exactly why I'm getting a
malamute when I graduate. Big,
half wolf, brave. The other
reason... so I can feel someone
love me again, loyally.
Unconditionally. Without reserve.
Without perameters. No matter
what kind of day I've had. No
arguments, not mind games, no
crap. Someone to cuddle, to hold
when I cry to sleep. The nice
thing about Mary's house is that
she's always had big dogs that
lived indoors, and she's all for
me getting a malamute. That's a
blessing.
Two more days till dorm day.
Remember last semester? Of course
you do. But of course you don't
think about it. The kisses.. the
warmth... falling asleep...
sweet, amazing slumber snuggled
next to you. I was such a fool.
Kari returned my pass and told me
to come in. Like when? I'm only
on campus for 30 minutes max and
it's when she's off at lunch. I
got four hours this week. Not
being in devos (I fell asleep)
and not having my Bible in devos
(I had just walked in from work).
Thanks, jerks. I feel like Duke.
I want to leave this place.
I saw you today.
Wearing that stupid tan suit.
I didn't mean to, for once.
Checked to see if I got my pass
back, and was walking to my dorm
when Melissa caught me just as I
was trying to escape. It was
awkward, standing there trying to
have a conversation when my head
was screaming at her to shut up
so I could go. It was nice to
know that she cares in her own
way. Of course, since mom and dad
stayed with them and left them a
more than generous thank you tip.
Then you walked in. Quick. Alone.
Took one look at me and moved
even quicker.
Did you change your number yet?
my head wanted me to call after
you. The taunt wouldn't do any
good. What's the point of
inflicting you just because you
take so much pleasure in
inflicting me? It might be the
natural instinct, to retaliate,
but I am old enough and tired
enough to know it won't do any
good. Nothing will do any good.
Nothing.
Broken, broken, broken.
Closed. Done. Goodby, Noelle.
I don't love you anymore.
Never will.
I froze as you walked by, then
tried my hardest to focus on what
Melissa was saying. Work..
summer.. graduation... blah,
blah... I couldn't follow.
I didn't feel the usual rush of
adrenaline, my heart thudding and
lurching in my chest, my breath
catching, my throat constricting.
My eyes teared up, but they
didn't cry. I felt.........
despair. Defeat. This cold, dead
weight lump in my belly.
Levi, walking by.
Levi, not looking at me.
levi, not stopping.
Levi, not talking.
Levi, so unpenetratable.
At least you were alone, like on
Sunday. I feel slightly better,
because it is far more
excruciating when you are with a
big group of your jerk friends.
Have you discovered, again, that
they are not true friends? What
did they do to you this time? Or
maybe it's because they all have
girlfriends and you're too much a
coward to work at having one
yourself. I don't know.
Or I suppose it could be because
you are after some other girl. Is
that who you were glued to your
phone with in church? Is that who
you were heading to so fast?
And for some reason, as I come
home and furiously clean my room
and try to brace myself for
another everlasting day.....
I feel nothing.
Nothing but desapir.
Friday, March 15, 2013
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Day Five
I'm going to join a gym today, I told myself when my alarm went off. I had just enough time to get dressed - throwing on whatever yanked off the hangers first - and ran out to my car. Cold, cold, cold leather of the Bonneville against my shivering body. Darkness.
But it was peaceful... the solitude. All 45$ a week in gas so worth it for the solitude. My car. My speed. My music. My temperature. My route. Stupid shallow fat senior girls. I put on Owl City, set the temp control for 94 degrees, and cruised along at 15 over the speed limit. Heck, a speeding ticket wouldn't even make me blink right now. I feel nothing but the cold.
Teaching had a major bump: Duke.
Handsome, sweet Duke. Sitting in the back row with his arms crossed, annoyed and disgusted. The first student to openly complain about my teaching. Not my teaching really, but my subject matter. Not that he didn't like writing either - he feels mad at his peers. His tastes differ from thiers and he is mad because he has to write and read it aloud. He'd rather not write at all.
I see myself mirrored in his rebellious face. Mad at the school, at my stupid peers, willing myself to not even graduate if I could just get away from it all.
I tried to reach out to him. I gave a 20-minute lecture about minority opinion and the power of the underdog finding a voice. His expression and crossed-arm stance never changed, but I tried.
I feel I failed.
Duke, I'm so sorry.
I want to quit, too.
I drove straight to Rockwell and signed up at the gym. Key fab, Australian Gold tanning lotion, sign up fee and first month payment, and I was a whopping 250$ poorer. And the school bill is due this week, dang. I only got paied 440$ for the past two weeks of work. Double dang.
The girls at the gym were really nice.
I ran a mile - a mile, babe! It's been so long. I'd forgotten what a long distance that is to actually accomplish. I also ran it at an incline. No music, just me and my hurt and my determination. I texted my dad about the mile, knowing he'd approve. He did. It felt nice.... in a way. I'm not sure how anything feels right now.
Then to work out - abs, back, biceps. Holy cow! Babe. I have nooooooo bicep strength. It was pathetic, major time. Really. You'd have laughed at me and then went "Awwww...!" and cuddled me close, I'm sure. Then kissed my hair and told me to keep at it. I would have smiled, turned around and kept trying. In reality, I just stared blankly at the wall, flinched against the physical exertion, and forced another rep. The wall stared blankly back at me, indifferent to whether I kept going or walked away. I kept going for lack of anything better to do.
I tanned.
Now that was an experience. Apparently 5 minutes was too long, even with the lotion. I burned to a crisp. My neck, under my chin? Blistered and peeling. My collarbone, down my chest, down my belly? Sensitive areas for sure, red and angry. My legs showed no sign of even having come in contact with sunlight. They were as white and pale as normal. I hate my soft, pudgy legs. I wish they were lean and tan and gorgeous. If this 250$ commitment indicates anything, by gosh I'll get them there.
Work all night... hanging up banners with Dawn, getting ready for bread bash.
She pulled me aside to ask how I was doing personally. Poor Dawn thought I'd blocked her on FB since I deleted my account. We talked about shift leader, about the future, about good stuff. I should have told her the truth about what I think about losing my prep specialist position, but I walked away feeling nothing. I didn't care. What did it matter? It didn't matter. No one cares. Why should I.
So tired.
My roommates avoid me. I don't blame them. I tear into my dorm cleaning and finish my closet and desk. I need to go through my clothes and start throwing stuff away so I can get packed up to leave. I can't wait to move into Mary's. I can't wait.
Curfew came too soon. I crawled wearily into bed, aware that tomorrow I will get evaluated for the first time and completley unprepared.
I'll figure it out tomorrow, I thought to myself. Right now all I cared about was my big down comforter. Please, please, darkness and softness and unconsciousness... swallow me up from reality.
But it was peaceful... the solitude. All 45$ a week in gas so worth it for the solitude. My car. My speed. My music. My temperature. My route. Stupid shallow fat senior girls. I put on Owl City, set the temp control for 94 degrees, and cruised along at 15 over the speed limit. Heck, a speeding ticket wouldn't even make me blink right now. I feel nothing but the cold.
Teaching had a major bump: Duke.
Handsome, sweet Duke. Sitting in the back row with his arms crossed, annoyed and disgusted. The first student to openly complain about my teaching. Not my teaching really, but my subject matter. Not that he didn't like writing either - he feels mad at his peers. His tastes differ from thiers and he is mad because he has to write and read it aloud. He'd rather not write at all.
I see myself mirrored in his rebellious face. Mad at the school, at my stupid peers, willing myself to not even graduate if I could just get away from it all.
I tried to reach out to him. I gave a 20-minute lecture about minority opinion and the power of the underdog finding a voice. His expression and crossed-arm stance never changed, but I tried.
I feel I failed.
Duke, I'm so sorry.
I want to quit, too.
I drove straight to Rockwell and signed up at the gym. Key fab, Australian Gold tanning lotion, sign up fee and first month payment, and I was a whopping 250$ poorer. And the school bill is due this week, dang. I only got paied 440$ for the past two weeks of work. Double dang.
The girls at the gym were really nice.
I ran a mile - a mile, babe! It's been so long. I'd forgotten what a long distance that is to actually accomplish. I also ran it at an incline. No music, just me and my hurt and my determination. I texted my dad about the mile, knowing he'd approve. He did. It felt nice.... in a way. I'm not sure how anything feels right now.
Then to work out - abs, back, biceps. Holy cow! Babe. I have nooooooo bicep strength. It was pathetic, major time. Really. You'd have laughed at me and then went "Awwww...!" and cuddled me close, I'm sure. Then kissed my hair and told me to keep at it. I would have smiled, turned around and kept trying. In reality, I just stared blankly at the wall, flinched against the physical exertion, and forced another rep. The wall stared blankly back at me, indifferent to whether I kept going or walked away. I kept going for lack of anything better to do.
I tanned.
Now that was an experience. Apparently 5 minutes was too long, even with the lotion. I burned to a crisp. My neck, under my chin? Blistered and peeling. My collarbone, down my chest, down my belly? Sensitive areas for sure, red and angry. My legs showed no sign of even having come in contact with sunlight. They were as white and pale as normal. I hate my soft, pudgy legs. I wish they were lean and tan and gorgeous. If this 250$ commitment indicates anything, by gosh I'll get them there.
Work all night... hanging up banners with Dawn, getting ready for bread bash.
She pulled me aside to ask how I was doing personally. Poor Dawn thought I'd blocked her on FB since I deleted my account. We talked about shift leader, about the future, about good stuff. I should have told her the truth about what I think about losing my prep specialist position, but I walked away feeling nothing. I didn't care. What did it matter? It didn't matter. No one cares. Why should I.
So tired.
My roommates avoid me. I don't blame them. I tear into my dorm cleaning and finish my closet and desk. I need to go through my clothes and start throwing stuff away so I can get packed up to leave. I can't wait to move into Mary's. I can't wait.
Curfew came too soon. I crawled wearily into bed, aware that tomorrow I will get evaluated for the first time and completley unprepared.
I'll figure it out tomorrow, I thought to myself. Right now all I cared about was my big down comforter. Please, please, darkness and softness and unconsciousness... swallow me up from reality.
Day Four
A blur. Darkness, screaming, running endlessly in the same direction. Sheets, headboard, phone. Empty phone. More darkness. Phone, messages, Levi. Levi, please. Levi help. Trembling fingers. Floor, hard, cold, solid. Warm, slow tears. A blur again.
I didn't want to go to school again. Late. Cold, shaky, a slight fever. I couldn't figure out what to wear. I couldn't remember what I was supposed to teach what class, where we left off, what problems I would face, what time things happened. My roommates laughed at me about the nightmares. "Levi, I'm so fat and you're in sin- God isn't happy!" Micah had recorded it on her phone, the conversation with my demons was so loud.
The song on the radio, She Loves Me Like Jesus, didn't help. What was the point?
The sunrise over the downtown didn't happen. It was an hour earlier than normal. The city was angry, black, flat. Cars coming into the city made a blinding stream of white. I rolled past a big accident, smoke still rising from the shattered engine, cops not on the scene yet. I couldn't stop the wish that it was me, but knew from past experience with Andrea that the worst wreck wouldn't change anyone but me.
We talked.
Talked... as in I pleaded, you yelled. Pitiful, really.
7:16am March 11, 2013, Monday
Me: I love you still.
My Boyfriend :) Your dad does not want us talking. Please dont
Me: I'm not leaving you. I'm not. I love you.
My Boyfriend :) Then do I have to call him?
Me: I'd rather you call me. He knows how I feel already. I'm praying you come back, every day. I need my Levi.
My Boyfriend :) No that is why we talked. no more. Dont make me call him again
Me: I don't understand why you don't love me. Why? Why did you change? I didn't change. I will NEVER stop loving you. I'm not built that way. I will love you no matter how much you hate me.
Me: I'm not trying to corner you :'( I'm trying to pray for you. But it hurts. I miss you oh so much. I lovest thou you.
My Boyfriend :) That was the reason we talked at the west. Closure.. something u desired so greatly with Brandon that sparked all of this. The west was closure Noelle focus on God. Not on me
Me: You left me because of Brandon???!!!! LEVI PIERCE FOWLER!!!!!!!!!!!!! I don't want him one iota!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE. Believe me. PLEASE. I stopped talking to him when you asked!!!!!!!!!! I never ever wanted to bring him in between us!!!! I don't want him at all!!!!!!!!!!!! I didn't even chase him when he left me but I've been praying for you every day since you left me!!! Levi!!!!!!
My Boyfriend :) I didn't say he was the source did I.. that was the whole point of the west closure. Closed. Done. Now please stop focusing on me. Its against your dads will you cant tell me you obey him when ur blatantly disobeying right now. I have to go right now. Just focus on God
Me: He never once said I couldn't write you, not once, never. You inferred Brandon... I really don't want him, just you. I focus on God - we are closer now that I pray for you every morning. I'm NOT leaving you Levi. Everyone has walked out on you I'm NOT going to do the same. I know you need time. I'm praying for that. I just want to remind you on MY hardest days that I love you.
My Boyfriend :) Then do I have to call him so that he will say writing as well? Goodbye Noelle I'll change my number now
Me: Why do you hate me for loving you?
Me: I guess I understand how Jesus felt. Hated and rejected by the ones he loved for supposedly no reason.
Me: I'm sorry I make you so upset. I'm in denial, I guess. I love you - you said. How can I know - I asked. Trust me - you said. I did trust you. I just won't want to be like your mom, your dad, Nikki, I am just different and I don't think I can really stop loving you Levi. I can't do it.
7:55am March 11, 2013 Monday
It was the first time you've threatened me since you left, but not the first time ever. You threaten all the time to call my dad as if you don't have a clue that I'm not afraid of that. My dad listens, trusts, and respects me. We don't have problems discussing our differences anymore... not since the car wreck, anyways. I wonder if you threaten it because it would have scared Nikki? Or maybe it's just the huge clue in that you feel powerless so you're trying to revert to someone who you think has more power? Maybe it's a sign of your own weakness.
You said "call him again." Again. As in, when? That phrase still stands out to me. When did you call him the first time?
I tried so hard to shout of my loyalty because I am terrified it is shattering all over the place and I can't grasp it in my head. It just doesn't make sense. Not my Levi.
It's the first time you've brought of Brandon. Also the first time that you've mentioned the idea of "what started all this." I find it highly peculiar that you meantioned them both in the same sentence, at the same time, for the first time, all together. Although you went on to vaguely deny it, I still feel that there is something there. In fact, I have a feeling that there is a LOT there. That you may be pretending like this is some huge spiritual revelation to leave me... but in truth, I feel bitterness in you. Hate. Resentment. Jealousy and.... cruelty? Horrible words, I know. They don't describe you, but the emotions I feel coming from you through your words and actions. Could it be that you are so mad at me over Brandon that you are trying to punish me in the very worse way you know how? If so......... holy cow, Levi. ='(
I also notice that after each heartfelt, passionate cry of mine you respond so.... coolly, untouched... it's amazing. Again, you tried to take me back to my dad. I don't know what he said to you but I guess he left you with the impression that we were forbidden to communicate? You sure tried to act like it, accusing me of a whole lot and the pathetic part is my dad never said anything of the sort to me. I find it so ironic, so... sad. It is also the most passionate outburst you have... the words you used? blatant disobedience. against your dads will.
I love how at the end you didn't even respond to anything I said - that I was trying to give you time, that I was trying to pray for you... you just bit my head off. "writing as well" you said... meaning my dad must have given you definitely orders about talking, then.
Closed. Done. Goodbye, Noelle.
I don't love you anymore.......................................
I don't remember what happened for the rest of today. Work, I guess. But I am in shock, like a blow to my guts. Can't breathe, can't think, can't swallow.
Forever, Levi?
You really hate me?
You'll never love me, forever?
Oh, God.
I didn't want to go to school again. Late. Cold, shaky, a slight fever. I couldn't figure out what to wear. I couldn't remember what I was supposed to teach what class, where we left off, what problems I would face, what time things happened. My roommates laughed at me about the nightmares. "Levi, I'm so fat and you're in sin- God isn't happy!" Micah had recorded it on her phone, the conversation with my demons was so loud.
The song on the radio, She Loves Me Like Jesus, didn't help. What was the point?
The sunrise over the downtown didn't happen. It was an hour earlier than normal. The city was angry, black, flat. Cars coming into the city made a blinding stream of white. I rolled past a big accident, smoke still rising from the shattered engine, cops not on the scene yet. I couldn't stop the wish that it was me, but knew from past experience with Andrea that the worst wreck wouldn't change anyone but me.
We talked.
Talked... as in I pleaded, you yelled. Pitiful, really.
7:16am March 11, 2013, Monday
Me: I love you still.
My Boyfriend :) Your dad does not want us talking. Please dont
Me: I'm not leaving you. I'm not. I love you.
My Boyfriend :) Then do I have to call him?
Me: I'd rather you call me. He knows how I feel already. I'm praying you come back, every day. I need my Levi.
My Boyfriend :) No that is why we talked. no more. Dont make me call him again
Me: I don't understand why you don't love me. Why? Why did you change? I didn't change. I will NEVER stop loving you. I'm not built that way. I will love you no matter how much you hate me.
Me: I'm not trying to corner you :'( I'm trying to pray for you. But it hurts. I miss you oh so much. I lovest thou you.
My Boyfriend :) That was the reason we talked at the west. Closure.. something u desired so greatly with Brandon that sparked all of this. The west was closure Noelle focus on God. Not on me
Me: You left me because of Brandon???!!!! LEVI PIERCE FOWLER!!!!!!!!!!!!! I don't want him one iota!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE. Believe me. PLEASE. I stopped talking to him when you asked!!!!!!!!!! I never ever wanted to bring him in between us!!!! I don't want him at all!!!!!!!!!!!! I didn't even chase him when he left me but I've been praying for you every day since you left me!!! Levi!!!!!!
My Boyfriend :) I didn't say he was the source did I.. that was the whole point of the west closure. Closed. Done. Now please stop focusing on me. Its against your dads will you cant tell me you obey him when ur blatantly disobeying right now. I have to go right now. Just focus on God
Me: He never once said I couldn't write you, not once, never. You inferred Brandon... I really don't want him, just you. I focus on God - we are closer now that I pray for you every morning. I'm NOT leaving you Levi. Everyone has walked out on you I'm NOT going to do the same. I know you need time. I'm praying for that. I just want to remind you on MY hardest days that I love you.
My Boyfriend :) Then do I have to call him so that he will say writing as well? Goodbye Noelle I'll change my number now
Me: Why do you hate me for loving you?
Me: I guess I understand how Jesus felt. Hated and rejected by the ones he loved for supposedly no reason.
Me: I'm sorry I make you so upset. I'm in denial, I guess. I love you - you said. How can I know - I asked. Trust me - you said. I did trust you. I just won't want to be like your mom, your dad, Nikki, I am just different and I don't think I can really stop loving you Levi. I can't do it.
7:55am March 11, 2013 Monday
It was the first time you've threatened me since you left, but not the first time ever. You threaten all the time to call my dad as if you don't have a clue that I'm not afraid of that. My dad listens, trusts, and respects me. We don't have problems discussing our differences anymore... not since the car wreck, anyways. I wonder if you threaten it because it would have scared Nikki? Or maybe it's just the huge clue in that you feel powerless so you're trying to revert to someone who you think has more power? Maybe it's a sign of your own weakness.
You said "call him again." Again. As in, when? That phrase still stands out to me. When did you call him the first time?
I tried so hard to shout of my loyalty because I am terrified it is shattering all over the place and I can't grasp it in my head. It just doesn't make sense. Not my Levi.
It's the first time you've brought of Brandon. Also the first time that you've mentioned the idea of "what started all this." I find it highly peculiar that you meantioned them both in the same sentence, at the same time, for the first time, all together. Although you went on to vaguely deny it, I still feel that there is something there. In fact, I have a feeling that there is a LOT there. That you may be pretending like this is some huge spiritual revelation to leave me... but in truth, I feel bitterness in you. Hate. Resentment. Jealousy and.... cruelty? Horrible words, I know. They don't describe you, but the emotions I feel coming from you through your words and actions. Could it be that you are so mad at me over Brandon that you are trying to punish me in the very worse way you know how? If so......... holy cow, Levi. ='(
I also notice that after each heartfelt, passionate cry of mine you respond so.... coolly, untouched... it's amazing. Again, you tried to take me back to my dad. I don't know what he said to you but I guess he left you with the impression that we were forbidden to communicate? You sure tried to act like it, accusing me of a whole lot and the pathetic part is my dad never said anything of the sort to me. I find it so ironic, so... sad. It is also the most passionate outburst you have... the words you used? blatant disobedience. against your dads will.
I love how at the end you didn't even respond to anything I said - that I was trying to give you time, that I was trying to pray for you... you just bit my head off. "writing as well" you said... meaning my dad must have given you definitely orders about talking, then.
Closed. Done. Goodbye, Noelle.
I don't love you anymore.......................................
I don't remember what happened for the rest of today. Work, I guess. But I am in shock, like a blow to my guts. Can't breathe, can't think, can't swallow.
Forever, Levi?
You really hate me?
You'll never love me, forever?
Oh, God.
Monday, March 11, 2013
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.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
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.
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.
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