"Wow, you're so young."

I'm rereading Catcher in the Rye. The first book I have ever read more than once. Holden seems so young, just sixteen! At the same time, he knows so much. Not compared to any other 16 year old, but compared to my expectations. He is so influential to me, I can't help but to want to call J.D. up.

I'm going back home for a visit soon. It'll be nice to have friends again.

thought

I had to walk from 63rd street home tonight. The bus stopped there because the road was closed. Police cars and fire engines crowded the next couple of blocks. Apparently, there had been an apartment fire.

I couldn't sit at home. I went outside to think by the old brick school building near my house. A window has been boarded, and I've been thinking about putting a bit of paint on it.

unfortunately I was underdressed. As I started home I saw a small nerf dart on the ground. Hopefully the kid playing with it has a few extra. I took out my lighter and singed the tip of it.
I don't know why I did, I just want the kid to understand that life gets harder. I want him to be ready for something as huge as your apartment burning down, or a car accident, or a break up.

I also realized I value thought above all else.


I still want you guys to email me. Just to talk.
braveryk@gmail.com please.

A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.

Sorry about the lack of posts. I'm trying to write a book. Something like catcher in the rye. I think we all needed a little more than J.D. gave.

Just a little bit, right?

Can you guys please email me things that you have always wanted to ask holden, or just to talk to me, or anything? I just want to see how this "human connection" thing really works.

BrAveryK@gmail.com

Black Betty (RIP)

I got in a car accident the other day.

One week in my new city, finally experiencing the inner city feel, and my truck gets T-boned by a super sized bus.

I miss that truck like you wouldn't believe, and not because it was once my grandpa's. Not because my dad loved it. I miss that truck because I attach myself to inanimate objects if I spend enough time around them. I loved my truck, I love my phone, I love my bed's blankets. I love them to the point of humanization. I know they aren't conscious, I know they don't have mindsets or attitudes or opinions or personalities; but at the same time, I know they do.

I guess everything is going to get better, even if it never gets better.

My fiance thinks Holden Caulfield was insane.

I think he was fine.

Who would Holden have married? Does it matter?

I hate to say the word insomniac, but...

Have you ever had a night where going to sleep was something you knew you just weren't going to get around to for a while?

I have these nights often.

I plug my computer into an amp I keep in my room. Nothing else uses this amp, I don't plug an instrument of any kind into it. I just keep this gigantic speaker in my room to plug in to my computer on nights when everything else seems better than sleep.

I play calm songs, with a lot of bass in them. I like to feel it. I like to imagine the song as an object. Some songs are large chunks of bass with miniature people standing on top, riding the bass like surfers. These people are the mid tones and treble. I lean against the speaker with a book. It makes a horrible cushion, the bass shakes me and I have to squint the slightest bit to keep the words clear. But I lean on it anyway, I like the company of the tiny surfers. I like the overbearing presence of the bass.

Times like this, I wish I was an artist. I wish I could make you all think. I wish I could keep you guys up all night wondering about something I said.

I wish I could give you all my amp and a good book.

I wish you were me. My work would be done.

Maybe your idea of control is simply me taking care of you.

Not every reaction is an over reaction, some things are just important.

It's hard for me to let go because I am so sure of what I hold.

So, Amanda found someone else. This is not a good time for me. I know she will probably read this, so I won't go too much into detail about her business, but I just want to keep you all equally informed on the situation.

She broke up with me about two months ago. I was being mean, not treating her right. I was angry and bitter a lot of the time. She broke up with me during a triple date with some of our friends. (Right after a 25 dollar dinner, I may add.) I drove her home, being a jerk in the car, like usual.

Fast forward. She meets this guy in her English class, and they start hanging out. I of course accuse her jokingly and seriously about it. EDIT :: Apparently she hasn't pursued anything with anyone. He pursued it and she didn't stop him. Sorry Amanda. ::

I sit and watch, I try to stay out of it. I occupy my long long days by learning guitar and crying. During the Epic Scavenger Hunt, he was in her car. I told her I would try not to text or call her. She acted like that wouldn't be hard for me. She said she would call me when they got back. I waited at home for six hours doing nothing. I can't stop shaking the entire time. After six hours of shaking, I couldn't stand up well, I felt sick and I felt weak. Most of the time I sat at my desk and wrote her a letter. It was a full four pages and explained everything about how I felt, and about how I wasn't going to stalk her, because I don't want to be like that. I just wanted to be her friend and always be here if something should go wrong in her life. I try to write a song about it, but everything I pen down turns out lame and poor quality.

I take a bath, which I fell asleep in for an hour. I almost threw up three or four times. She was supposed to be home at 11. I called her first at 11:30 and then at 11:45. At midnight, one hour after she said she would call me, I went to her house after calling her again. I heard them near the pool, because that's where I parked. (I'm sorry Amanda, I wouldn't say this part because it's not my business, but I was there, so it is part of my life.) They were sitting in the jacuzzi, lights off, and she had her head against his shoulder. My stomach dropped, my heart beat quickly and heavily. I couldn't think. I didn't know what to do, so I went up to the gate, about 100 feet from them and called her name until she turned around. She wouldn't get out of the jacuzzi because it was cold. I asked if I could come to her, but she didn't hear me. I went in anyway. Him, her, and I made a little awkward small talk, I saw the scavenger hunt list, and then I asked if she had kept her promise she made me, she said yes. (She said she promised she wouldn't kiss him that night.) I trust that she hadn't yet, but I think I made her mad by going to her house and finding her, so she may have done it later. I told her to call me when they were done and she said okay and I left.

It was hard to drive home when I couldn't see and I cried so hard that I couldn't keep my head up to look at the road. I was sitting in the same car she used to sit in. She told me that she loved me in that car. We had said time and time again the three words that seemed so true with me sitting right where I was, and her next to me, where now there sat only air and memories.

I went home and talked to my parents, who convinced me that I needed to tell her not to call me, which is the last thing I want to do. If I'm not a part of her life, how will she ever see me change? She called near one o'clock, and I told her. I asked her to eat lunch somewhere else so that I could live my life without this sorrow and pain. She said no.

I got angry because she won't let me die, she won't let me have any rest or peace. I thought she would call me the next day, and she didn't. I think she will call me today. She won't. She won't call me and that kills me.

I prayed and prayed for hours. I prayed that God would kill me. I asked him to let me die, I begged him to pick me off of this world, I am not suited for life here. I can't understand humans, I can't believe anything, I don't trust, I am mean, and I am weak. I am too weak to kill myself, but God isn't. I'm still alive, you see, but the offer is still solid.

I slept on the couch that night so that i could watch TV and not think about anything. I don't want to remember. I don't want any of this to ever happen. It kills me that she is actually pursuing relationships with other guys. When I think about her lips, I remember them clearer than I remember what food tastes like. When I think about her and him... This is why I prayed for death. I hope you understand, friends, why I did that, I can't bear to think about things like that. It hurts more that broken bones, it hurts more than burns or cuts, or anything I have ever felt.

I cry about every two or three hours. I bawl every day. I can't get in my car without crying, and I can't sleep in my room. I only sleep for six hours, (on the couch) and for 5 hours a day, I shake uncontrollably. Talking helps, but not very many people actually mean that they "are here for me to talk to." I have found only two people willing to talk for hours. Thank you two, thank you so much. You are the only reason I'm making it through this.

I feel ready to throw up every half hour. I check my phone every thirty seconds. I think about her all the time. My mind won't give me peace, it refuses to turn my thoughts towards anything else. I refuse to act on anything, though. I won't let myself turn into that creepy guy. I won't let that side of me win this fight. My life is my own, and if I keep breathing, I will keep living. That's my motivation for getting off the couch in the morning: Inhale, exhale. Repeat.

I told her not to call me, and I don't know what to hope. Amanda, do you understand? If you call me, I will only want to talk to you, but all I can say is that I hope things are going well and that I'm okay, I'm fine. At least if you read this, you can see what my definition of "fine" is.

I need some favors of you guys. Can you:
Pray for me?
Send me text messages? I need to stop thinking it's going to be her when my phone vibrates. I need to want it to be someone else. It needs to always be someone else.
Not tell me anything about Amanda? It's none of my business, and though it kills me to say it: Even if I beg, don't tell me anything. It feels better when I know, but only for an hour.
Not tell me you are here for me if you aren't? I totally understand you not wanting to sit and hear an overly emotional stressed out 17 year old boy talk about his anxiety. Seriously. You aren't going to hurt me more by just saying you hope I feel better soon, and not offering your consolation whenever I need it. It's enough for you to even read this huge entry.

Pray

I am not even close to getting over you

happy birthday Kyle. I hope you won last night.

Amanda, you don't have to let my emotions tangle yours anymore. You can live your own life without interference from me.

Anyone feel like writing music?

Edit :: I took her drawings off my wall, so maybe I'll be able to sleep in my bed again. I also burnt the letter I wrote her, lyrics I wrote for her, and some various notes I took in order to gather my thoughts. I don't want to be tempted to give her them, and I don't want to see them. ::