your faith has got to be greater than your fear

Thank you Jules for inspiring me to be excited about this.

We got music in our hands and feet and kisses.

hands of the clock

My thoughts have been with Monique lately. I feel the memories of her presence and the sting of her loss all at the same time. I recall the visions so fully that they feel brand new/freshly made and yet, the pit of my soul feels her absence. Feels the tangy reminder that the memories will cease to be created. That I can only survive on the ones that my mind has chosen to forge in it's walls. I think of the single time in our whole six years of friendship that we decided we weren't going to be friends. I took the walk of shame to her front door with a plastic bag filled with her stuff. Her door creaked open as I made out the solemn look on her face behind the meshy white gate. Standing face to face, we exchanged our plastic bags (since she was armed with one for me as well). The feeling of finality caved in my chest as I thought of all the laughs and love I've shared with this person. I sank beneath the bed of tears as I finally said, "I don't want to stop being friends." To which she crumbled, soaken beneath her own heart, "Me either." We embraced then and sat on her bed catching up on missed events. I couldn't lose her then. My soul knew it would be losing too much. I feel the weight in my chest as I recount these memories. I crave in the deepest part of me to see her face again, not just restricted to my dreams. I yearn to feel the warmth of her arms around me and the full satisfaction of her conversation. Eight months after her passing, the only thing I can think to say today is the same as that afternoon I stood on her doorstep, "I don't want to stop being friends." I relish and I crumble in these recollections. I feel the tears gaining more confidence in the ducts of my eyes and no amount of blinking can stop it. I feel the loss of my friendship, I feel the loss of the love, and even when I don't think I am-I grieve.

where I'm coming from

"Just a couple of jumbled words from an old student that sat in the back of your English class in 2005 that just re-read her spiral notebook containing journals for your class. Thank you for having me/us do that even when we just a bunch of disgruntled teenagers who didn't really see the point in anything. You've made me uncover the real, deep, genuine love I had for the words. So, from an old student to an almost twenty-one year old soul looking to exercise the gratitude in her life; I say to you only two words: Thank you."

"Leigh!

I can honestly say that I haven't been on Myspace for a very long time, but when I got an email notification regarding your message, I had to come check it out.  I'm so happy that you found your journal.  You were a great writer then, and it looks like time has only made you wiser (more material for your pen!).  
Thank you for being receptive enough to keep that pen moving.  I hope all is good for you!  Ahn"