I woke up from a dream that I lived back East again. I almost started crying.

When Erin gets back from California, I think I'll broach the subject of where to live. I know I don't want to be living in Texas, but I can be happy there for a while, it's probably worse than Colorado, but Lubbock is a college town so it's probably more acceptable.
Lubbock makes me think of Amy, a girl I knew when I was 14-15 up until about 18. That was such a long time ago. I miss Amy, wish I had never lost contact with her, but she moved around so much after she got out of college. She's probably married by now and very happy. She was always happy, but liked talking to depressed little me, even back then I was pretty moody.
Well, anyway, I know Erin likes Virginia, but I've never been there. It sounds beautiful, like MA, but more with more hills. I just want to go somewhere East again, I can't stand it out here, anywhere east of PA is okay with me, even if I have a preference for MA... I know I can get money to pay for rent if I go to college and I wouldn't mind going back to college at HCC, and as a bonus I have disability in MA (go me! even though this is not a good thing...) to help pay for my screwedupness. Well this is all far off, and I have a habit of making too many plans, and they always make me feel bad in the end - there's no way every single plan I make can ever possibly come true, and most of them don't.
I just hate it here and want to go elsewhere with someone that cares. Old grove forests and ruins a couple centuries old just make me feel at home and peaceful. I think I want to try to make up with old friends, which I think I can do if I apologize profusely and prove myself to be a worthwhile person. I miss Jennifer, Melanie, Melissa, Nicole B, Nicole, Nicole Anna, Randy, Neal, Mary Kate, Chris Sloan, Luno and Diana. I know I'm trying to clutch onto the past, and now I'm trying to drag my future into the past with me, and that isn't good.
What am I doing with my life? It feels so useless and tired and empty. I write stupid entries in this journal, I spend time reading, and if I'm lucky respond to a few e-mails a day. What kind of life is that? A life of isolation I guess. I don't mind isolation, but I want someone to spend it with me.
Too many old memories just thinking about what I want and what I had.

"A strange kind of love
A strange kind of feeling
Swims through your eyes
And like the odors
To a wide vast dominion
They open to your prize

This is no terror ground
Or place for the rage
No broken hearts
White wash lies
Just a taste for the truth
Perfect taste choice and meaning
A look into your eyes

Blind to the gemstone alone
A smile from a frown circles round
Should he stay or should he go
Let him shout a rage so strong
A rage that knows no right or wrong
And take a little piece of you

There is no middle ground
Or that's how it seems
For us to walk or to take
Instead we tumble down
Either side left or right
To love or to hate"

- Peter Murphy from A Strange Kind of Love (version one)