It is troublesomely easy to forget your recent past
I currently sit among dozens of worn out dollar store notebooks, spiralled spines
to match the spiralling of my emotions as I read through certain passages
Fear and recognition of repitition grip me
I notice the mistakes I am guilty of repeating, and my recurring themes of anxiety
Diaries, schoolbooks, and loose papers ranging from my early teenage years
Til now: November 18, 2015
I will quit smoking for the third (or fourth) time
New Year's Eve. I will also work, as usual

Any night can be a party
New Year's Eve is no different
Except that you must kiss someone and drink champagne at midnight
And engage in a bittersweet celebrations of
The official passing of another year

My grimly beige carpet holding my clothing, books ,and bass guitar taunts me
With its mediocrity
I know I will get my revenge by forgetting it too
I won't even take a picture of the lottery tickets, laundry basket or old fashioned mirror
Sitting on the floor
Inconsequential details about the length or shade of the carpet are forgettable
They make no impression
Besides...
Leftover impressions come across as outlines, faint
Seemingly from a movie camera point of few
It is strange to call memories my own
It's as if they are be seen from someone elses eyes
As they flutter by in dreamlike apparel

Here is a sample of the past, taken from a notebook titled "You shallow shadow, You shallow girl"
A title I presume is about myself and not the woman I used to be in love with to the point of ruining a relationship I was in for 1.5 years, ten years ago. The selection I will review involves the man I am currently in love with (I think I am?). I did not love him for ten years between the time this writing and now. I enjoy the melodrama of the writing. It wrenches my stomach, while doubly make me ill for writing such melodramatic drivel. But I know the emotions I felt were in fact as strong as I was describing them back then. Because I remember. Somewhat.

Here it is: "Baby, my baby. I am sorry for what I have done to you (actually, I am still sorry...although I wanted him back then and was suffering consequences for my action of breaking up with him, I now am sorry mostly because I don't want to be judged by my past actions and for hurting him very much without realizing or caring at the time). I lacked the conscience it took to be a good person. I love you more than her (I think I loved them both, in different ways...however, with "her" there was more anticipation and forbidenness, which likely made it seem more exciting and meaningful than it was, thus intensifying percieved love?). I love you more than life, heaven, or God (did I believe in God back then? Anyhow, this is a great line). I would do anything to have you back by my side (Unwittingly copying "Boys Don't Cry by" The Cure?) Hearing your name pronounced makes tears leap from my eyes: down, down, down. I fall with them again. I drown in the sorrow I gave to myself (because I broke up with him and then made out with the girl I cheated on him with and then stayed at her house and then moved to Montreal. I gave the sorrow to myself through my choices). What would I do if I had another chance? I know I could never take it for granted; not now. I breathe you. I hold my breath, wating for you to take me back." (I like this image, but
probably should have included something about dying, since it was something destined never to happen...at least not, perhaps until today. But that is uncertain since I may have fucking things up in the following ways already:

1) Saying I love him again after one week
2) Being too actively persistent about seeing him again
3) My past as a non-monogamist and generally selfish, inconsiderate person.

My foot is numb and my ass is numb, so I must take a break. Weds, Nov. 18th, 2015. I would really like a cigarette. The anticipation of his actions is unbearable to me, since I tend to imagine worst case scenarios.

ie: scaring him off, frightening him with intensity or availability or persistence, him being involved with another woman, him secretly hating me and getting revenge. I know that last one isn't real. These old letters and waiting for answers is driving me crazy. I feel so scared.