The smell of the food next to me makes me nauseous. I eat too much. Then there are months when I don't eat enough. (I secretly prefer those months.) After all, nothing tastes as good as thin feels. Maybe I am falling apart. I think I've been here before. You know that saying "never let them see you cry"? Well, what do you know, the moment I let the floodgates go she pulls up next to me. Or maybe I pulled up next to her. Either way, I lost. The tears and this heartbreak won. You have to wonder how good of friends they were in the first place, if rumors could take them away from me. Not even with a fight. The bracelet on my wrist tells me I can't be that terrible. It's impossible to walk through RiverPark without smiling faces. Just not the faces I used to know. Maybe I like these faces more. Maybe I'll never show my face in that haunted place again. I should've stopped going when everywhere I looked was a memory of David. I should've left long ago. I shouldn't let them get to me like this. There are so many things I'm afraid to say. Should I anyway? Should I reveal to the world the amazing feeling I get throwing up a day of binging? Should I tell them all how badly I want to run away sometimes? Should I slyly mention that I think I found the one? I spend so much time at Borders because I can pretend their smiling and laughing because they're my friends, not just because we work together. I can almost convince myself that the regulars come to talk to me, not just for the coffee. I used to like the idea of "just sex." Luke and I started that way. We never thought feelings would get involved, but sure enough by Thanksgiving break we were baring our souls to each other. Needless to say the sex never happened. He conveniently lost my number. Now the idea haunts me. I'm so terrified that just when I'm willing to open up, it will all fall apart again. He told me the sex wasn't even that good. A part of me always knew that's why he left. I hope he finds better. I hope she loves him more than I could. On second thought, I don't. But I don't wish bad on him either. "She who dares to stand where I stood." It wouldn't be hard to replace me. I'm a constant mistake and maybe I'll never get better, but someone still loves me. I told him the truth and the look in his eyes said it all. God, I think I found him. Now how do I tell him I'm moving? I'm leaving. Far away. Not just a few hours. Not an afternoon drive. I shouldn't get my hopes up. We probably wouldn't last anyways. Not with that distance. But it's my dream, my passion. I won't give that up. I will never again say "sure, San Francisco is just fine. Don't worry. I never had any plans." This time, I matter too. And who knows, maybe I will write for Popular Science. Maybe I will write an article about my baby--the first magician in outer space. Maybe.
