Limbo, Again, Some More
<<2004-05-24 - 10:40 p.m.>>

already I've had a fight with my mother, and already I have sat all night in diners with Chloë and Nikki, and

I can't stop thinking how lucky I am—right now I feel so lucky—maybe everyone is very lonely, maybe even the people whose lives are spattered with thick coats of names are lonely, and maybe I am lonely too, but at least I can be lonely with those great girls, whom I never doubt. How did that happen, that I started trusting them? I don't doubt the way they feel about me, though, not for a minute—we're a team, even when Nikki doesn't call before she goes to Provincetown, even though I'm going away for the whole summer. I made my plans around their birthdays: home from Portland the day before Nikki's; home from Berlin three days before Chloë's. But I don't know how it happened, this sense that I can be angry at them and I can dislike things about them, but I'm stuck with them and they're stuck with me and I don't mind it.

Some days I want to go to college on the East Coast, where you can take trains up to throw a friend a birthday party, where you are A College Student and you wear your sweatshirt and you go home and go to parties in people's parents' living rooms, smoke your cigarettes out the window, where you are expected to be a college student and nothing more, where you are allowed your sinful isolating privileges of youth and of myopia. (Then I get claustrophobic, itchy, then I start wanting to get out and be a real human being.)

Tomorrow Zibby will come and sit in my living room and I will run my hands over glossy brochures and A Decision Will Be Made, and fuck if I know what that decision is going to be.

I am a wee bit concerned about Maggie, somehow, and there are too many people to whom I owe letters (Edie, Ana, Christine [hi]), and still, still, there are boxes in Portland being difficult.

I have my plane ticket to Berlin and Moira calls every couple of days to tell me how excited she is. I am going away. I think it is possible that I will come back different. I think it is possible that every day I am leaving something behind.

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