If you lead with your heart, fate has a way of following.

"It's great that you can listen and be a shoulder to someone, but what about when someone doesn't need a shoulder. What if they need arms or something like that? You can't just sit there and put everybody's lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. You just can't. You have to do things."

I really wanted to write a blog tonight. But this quote makes a lot more sense than anything going on my head, so I'll go with that instead.

Oh, and stop thinking you know me so well. I promise you, you have no idea.

When I was a little girl, my parents had a really good friend who committed suicide. When my mum told me about it she said, "Erin, remember mum and dad's friend Jeremy? The one with the horses? We think you're old enough to know, he went crazy and he killed himself." That made sense to me.

A few days later, I was driving somewhere, with my some other family friends, and their daughter Sarah, who was a couple years older than me. She kept asking her parents, "how did Jeremy die?" Eventually the mum looked back and asked me, "Erin, do you know how Jeremy died?" I said yes, and I thought I was telling the truth. In my mind, he had died from being crazy. Crazy was a disease. It was like cancer or something. The mum went on to tell Sarah, how his wife had walked into the barn, and had found him hanging, from the rafters. I understood something then. He had wanted to die. "Crazy" didn't kill him. He killed himself.

Katie, this isn't to you, but it's being blogged for your benefit (ie: so you can read it and tell me if it's too retarded to send or not), so I'm gonna go ahead and call it a shout out =). We're a little closer to even now. Oh and this is take three, just so you know. The first one was very angry, and defensive, the second one was pitiful, and this one is just, well, you'll see.

I don't write this expecting or wanting it to change anything. I just need you to know a couple things before I can really move on. For me it's like official closure, I guess.

I spent a really, REALLY long time being mad at you. It was the easiest thing to feel, I suppose. But I'm letting myself be sad now. And it sucks, it sucks so much. Because I guess what you did is made me disposable. You told me and showed me that I could be replaced.

Maybe I just hope that forgetting about me wasn't as easy as you made it seem. I hope you still cry when you hear Hero, by Enrique. I hope you still cry when you remember driving home from Time Traveler's Wife in the rain, listening to Jack Johnson. I hope you still cry when you read the letter I wrote when we got in that fight in grade 9. I hope you remember the letter you wrote me while I was in Asia last year, about how re-reading the grade 9 letter made you so sad, and how you never wanted us to get in such a dumb fight again. (Now don't get me wrong, I hope you do more than cry, so keep on reading.) I hope you stop resenting change. I hope you realize that we're supposed to be making mistakes right now. I hope you realize that neither of us are the same people we were when we first met, or when we first became best friends. And I hope you realize that's a good thing, that's how it's supposed to be. Oh, and I hope you find somebody else, someone other than me who loves Reese Puffs and Gushers as much as you. I hope you find someone else to have champagne picnics with in the rain, and someone else how might appreciate Seattle's best Pizza and Fanta as much as we do. (I also especially hope you realize what fatties I'm making us sound like right now.) I know that's a lot of hoping. I also hope it all makes sense. And that I'm not forgetting anything else.

Love, (or maybe something else. I don't know if love is appropriate, I just don't know how else to end letters)

Erin

p.s. I know this is long past, but I want to clarify that I don't think being drunk is an excuse for any of my hook-ups. But I also don't think that I need any excuses.

p.p.s. Did you know that p.s. is actually supposed to be capitalized ?

P.P.P.S. Don't really have anything to say here, but I wanted to try out the caps. And also, we both know it's hardly a legitimate letter without a handful of p.s.'s.

I wanna believe I'm not that naive.

We don't like where this is going because we don't know where this is going.

Caught in a craze.

I respect and admire the way you see the world in all its simpleness and boldness and bluntness. But I cannot understand it. Every day I fantasize and romanticize and idealize, and my world becomes a place that is okay to be in. Your world must be a harder place to live. I hope you're okay there.

Maybe I'm scared.

I guess I should be happy you're now friends with all of my friends.

I'm not. I liked it better when you were just my friend.

I hate sharing.

Shades of grey.

RE: I win the lottery, giant super nova.

Rachel, I swear I have the very best of intentions to reply the very first day you posted that blog, but I have to admit I kind of forgot until I saw you in the halls today. So anyways, here goes. My creative juices haven't exactly been flowing much recently, I haven't even been able to give them a c

hance what with everything else going on, so things might seem a little off, but I think when I start rambling like this they usually do anyways, so perhaps it's nothing out of the ordinary. Your question really is a good one, and I am more than ready for a break from Chem anyways, so here goes. What, you ask, keeps me from simply existing ? Can the answer honestly be as simple as I think it might be ? Existing is boring. It's dull. People who exist don't inspire, and they aren't inspired. I don't know how to be that kind of person. Even when I am exhausted and overwhelmed and cranky and sick

, it gets old. I get over it. And whenever I start to perk up, I realize, or remember, what I was missing out on. There is so much wrong with our world, but I honestly do believe on most days that there are more people out there trying to fix it than there are people producing the messes and the suffering. And with that knowledge, who could continue to exist ? Who would be able to stop themselves from living and experiencing and learning and loving ? Who in possession of the knowledge that they could make a difference could ever go back to existing ? To me, that thought is absurd. So that may or may not have answered your question, but either way I hope it makes some sense.

"I need to be bold, need to jump in the cold water, need to grow older with someone like you."

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Reading too much Cosmo.

Eating too much ice cream.

Watching too much Friends.