You were the only choice. 

There was no on else. If there was anyone else, than I wouldn't have chosen you. You were the only choice.

I got caught up in your looks. I was enthralled by what it would mean to be with you. That has never happened to me before.

I don't like people for how they look. 

Nobody chooses their favorite book based on the cover art. You will never hear anyone say, "Hey, I really loved that book because of the picture on the front! Yep, that really did it for me!"

No, that's just stupid. 

People choose their favorite books based on the content found inside. The story told and the emotions felt. The words inside are what really matters. 

And so it should be the same when we choose our favorite people.

The exterior reveals so little compared to what's on the inside. 

Never judge a book by it's cover.

I looked at you and saw a pretty face. You were everything I thought was good. 

But honestly, you really are just a pretty face. Well, maybe that's not entirely fair. You are nice. And the words I found inside you had some content. Still, I judged too much by what was on the outside. 

I never do that, and I'll have to remember to never do that again. 

You cover was pretty but the words were not, and no one loves a book because of it's cover.

But again, you were the only choice.

A library with one book-- what else was I supposed to read?

You didn't mean to. It doesn't matter. This is war.

Life is hard.

Three days into the new year and I got food poisoning. 

Nasty details follow without further description. It sucks.

I hope I can get better soon.

I want a simple life.

Always keep God there

Love your music

Stay healthy

Those three things will keep me happy. 

Everyday it gets worse. I honestly don't know how I've been able to live this long. How melodramatic.

When I say live it's more in the sense of fullness rather than life itself. Living hasn't been the problem. No, living is easy enough. But life itself has been rather dull. The brightness of those days has long since faded, and the dimness of what life is now has only become darker as the days wear on. Truly melodramatic. 

Haha, how many times must I rehash the same thing before I become satisfied. 

I'm so very lonely. 

It seems everything these days reminds me of this loneliness. Some days I even think of running back to her. Yet, I know better than to do that. I wouldn't put her through that again. 

Still, I am alone. 

Finding a girlfriend would be easy. Maybe I've set the bar too high? 

I'm not trying to find a girlfriend. No, I'm trying to find her. And that's when the difficulties arise. Maybe looking for someone with the that mindset is wrong. Maybe that's whats making this so difficult. 

That can't be right though. 

It should be that way. It'd be a waste of time to try and look for a girlfriend if you didn't intend for it to go somewhere. Somewhere significant. 

Anyway, it seems like 5am is becoming my new bedtime. Not good. 

5am brings with it the twilight-- the most loneliest time of the day. Twilight drains so much out of me. The light that isn't and the night that fades. It's all so confusing for the soul. 

A very lonely time.

Well, I guess it fits. To be lonely at 5am. 

But it seems I'm lonely all the time now, and its only getting worse.

Not good at all.

Life hasn't been the same for a very long time.

That's where I'll end the melodrama for today. 

I can only take so much.

I stared at it. It's light made me think. Of everything that had happened, and, more importantly, everything that hadn't happened. Another year alone.

So stupid.

Why was I even thinking these things? It's not like I haven't had this conversation with myself before. Still, it plagued me. The sense of stillness. Going nowhere. Nothing had changed. 

What was wrong with me? Physically, I had not been alone. It was easy to obtain the warmth of another, and even easier to find myself regretting it all. But emotionally, it was difficult.

In my darkest times, I had run to her. She was so sweet. Probably the sweetest girl in the world. But I was horrible to her. 

I strung her along when I felt alone, and let her be when I didn't need her. I wanted to like her. I wanted to genuinely love her even. But it didn't happen, and even though I tried, I couldn't force myself to like her.

But she was so sweet. 

She listened to every word I said. She laughed at every joke I made. She smiled for no reason at all, except for just being with me.

So I put an end to it. I knew I couldn't keep stringing her along. So I stopped talking to her. 

And it was just another end to another sad story.

Then there was her. She was provocative. She wanted it. And, at the moment, so did I. So we shared that warmth, and I regretted it immediately. 

How far had I sunk? She had a boyfriend, and I hated cheating more than anything else in the world and there I was abating in the act. Not cheating on anyone, but helping someone cheat on another person in the worst possible way. 

Haha, and I knew she would leave soon so it would be all inconsequential! She would go back to her country and I wouldn't feel any of the repercussions of our night alone. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It made me wish I had stayed with the sweetest girl. At least she was pure enough to stop me from doing anything stupid. But this other girl was just so... I don't know. She caught me at the exact wrong time. When I was the most susceptible. 

And all this, as I stared at the shining star hanging on the tree. 

So many things had happened, and that was only the tip of it all. There were too many sad stories this year. 

But what stuck out the most was what didn't happen: 

I still hadn't found... her.

No, I had found many other hers. 

Her and her and her and her and then her,

but never... her.

And so I turned around disgusted with the light. It seemed to bring so much hope, but it only made my think of my shortcomings. 

I walked to my car and drove off. Sad, angry, depressed. It was all so similar. This feeling. 

Of being completely alone. 

"When you loved me, I was good enough

When you loved me, music woke me up

But now the silence is suffocating



When you loved me, every single day

Time would fly away

But now every minute feels like an hour

Wishing the day would end inside the prison in my head



When you loved me, I was never lonely

But then you turned and now I'm 

Watching you walk away into another world"

- Juliana Hatfield 

---

Sometimes, when there's too much to say all you need is a song. When there's too much going through your mind, a song is enough.

Sometimes, you just need a song for your soul.

When I was younger, xanga used to be my outlet. Nothing was held back.

If I felt like crap, I wrote about it. If I felt like a rainbow, I wrote about it.

I wrote about the reasons why, the emotions felt, and how I dealt with it all. But now it's all different. Sometimes I'm afraid to share. I'm afraid to let it all out.

But afraid of what?

Who knows? Youth always seemed to bring with it naivety. I was more bold when I was young. Maybe it was because my pre-frontal cortex wasn't really formed, but thinking about consequences of an action were secondary at best. If I wrote something, I wrote it. Who cared what anyone else thought? Yet with age, forethought seems to block the spontaneity of the past. 

Some recent events in my life have forced me to reevaluate a lot of things. One of those things is xanga. Xanga has really been a big part of my life for so long, and when I was true to it, it was true to me.

I met some really fun people and a few friends I know I'll never forget. But this fear is stifling. In all honestly, what has really held me back were my real life friends. I dearly love all of them, but there are just a few things I don't want them to know. I've had to shut down previous xangas just because they found them. And this one is friend locked too.

I never wanted it to be that way. 

So I'll stop.

This place, xanga, has always been a place of relief, and for the last few years it has been far from that. Dodging the wearing eyes of my real life, I tried to hide how I felt with colorful prose and vague descriptions. Although I do like writing that way, sometimes the straight truth is the best way to express something.

Like now, this is how I feel, and from this point onward it'll be like that. 

Life is such a mess right now and this is what I need. This is my little world where I don't have to be shy. This is the place where I can respond and be responded to.

There are so many amazing people here and the fear of my real life cohorts finding this little world shouldn't stop me from writing. 

It didn't before. It was actually the opposite. Only my real life friends were privy to my xanga. But sometimes you need someone to listen who stands apart from your real life. Someone with an unbiased view. Someone unadulterated by your past, who can truly listen without pretense.

Xanga, and the people here, have always been that someone. 

And I really need someone like that... more than ever. 

He fumbled with it in his hands. 

It glimmered softly in the light. 

What it was meant to be and how it was supposed to end, it was all in his hands. The happily ever after with the girl from his dreams. 

It was all there, yet unfulfilled. The feelings had finally left, leaving behind only the faint nothings of yesterday. It was all so tragic. Then again, he wondered, what if they were still together? What if fate had been met? 

The scenario was so outrageous, his mind couldn't wrap around it. All of it was too absurd. This was all he knew-- this loneliness. But he was okay that way. 

Yes, he certainly was okay.

But

He wasn't happy. 

From the beginning, all I did was muse. When I first got a xanga, I mused on and on about a certain girl. How she made me feel, how she made me think, how she made act. These are the things I wrote about. I wrote about life in general, and I wrote about nothing in general. That's what everyone did back then. Middle school was such a weird time in my life. 

As xanga's popularity died down and the people started leaving, the things I wrote become more personal. There was no one to see them. There was no one to read them. So it didn't matter what I wrote. I wrote about depression, about my family troubles, about my horrible life. That's what everyone did back then. That's what people do now. High school was a such a depressing time in my life.

Xanga keeps dying, and one day, it'll probably die completely. But the musing has never stopped. I don't write about daily life too much anymore. Whenever I do, it's more of just a record for myself. Hey Jo, this is what you did at this time in your life. Most of the time it's just random thoughts, and random stories. I like writing them down, because it helps me. It helps me conceptualize everything. 

And so the the random musings will continue with the interjection of real life every now and then. 

So let me muse. About you, about love, and about life. At least, until I find nothing to muse on at all. 

Hmmm... I need to study.