I sit here now, pondering all the things that have happened (or haven’t happened) over the course of the last couple of months and find myself feeling – naturally – confused.

Where was I last year at this time? Wasn’t I in the same place?

No, I was not in the same place.

With each day I am learning about myself through my pain. In a positive sense (hah) of course. I am learning that everything hurts right now, and it will continue to hurt for a while, but I will get over it, and I will be a stronger person because of it. I’ve decided that no matter how many twists and turns are thrown in my direction on a near-daily basis I must do my best to focus on the larger picture. Ironic unpleasant things are going to happen to me. I will find my way around them, or (if i have to) THROUGH them. Time to kiss that depressing bitch goodbye. Mwah.

I’m going to free myself, and try and bring others with me. I really don’t think there is a clear definition to freedom, but in my head that word resonates around peace.

Peace.

You are under the control of yourself.
Do not let anybody make you fear your own thoughts.

Shying away from your own thoughts can lead to an inauthentic life.

A life of muted culture, a life of blank pages. Death.

To be contained by outside forces is to give in.

No more giving in.

I’m back from camp.
I did not kill myself.
Ha.

No, camp was very fun. I just hate the fact that I will probably never see any of the people that I met there again. Seriously, it’s like some kind of sick joke. But I suppose I brought it upon myself for signing up for the camp in the first place.

Caleb & Chris: Two of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. Seriously. There was just something about them that made me so happy. They live about two hours away.

I don’t really feel like going into much detail about camp at this point, but I feel like kicking life in the ass. In a good way. Today I have therapy with my new doctor. After that, I am hoping to make cookies with Kaitlin and Carol, and whoever else wishes to join.

Most people, when they think about suicide don’t really consider everything. They don’t really think about what happens after they die. You know, their bodies will swell up with fluids, stink and rot, unless they decide to be frozen or reduced to a pile of gritty ashes. I suppose this doesn’t matter when all you’re hungry for is a bullet to the brain. But with shooting yourself, ugh, just think about it. There is that awful showdown between you and the eye of fate, the blank stare of the bullet. Your pupils dilate as you strain to focus; your hands shake. The gun will seem heavy to you, too heavy for life. (Hah) You ready yourself. You cock the hammer, and you can already smell the blood. You can almost feel it; warm, and circling around you like a halo. Or, you can choose to overdose, which RARELY works, and you will most likely awake from a deep uncomfortable woozy slumber to find your stomach being rigorously pumped by ridiculous soap opera paramedics. You can leap off of something, but then there’s the fall. You could hang yourself, but then there’s all the involuntary kicking. You could walk out into traffic, but that would be painful, and you might still survive. You could go the carbon monoxide way, which I think makes the most sense. You grab the car keys, turn off the lights, shut the garage door, hop into the front seat, turn the key, pop on some tunes and drift off. Only you’re not really drifting off, you’re – yeah. Oh, and don’t forget. THE SLITTING OF THE WRISTS. It is beyond me why you would even attempt this when there is carbon monoxide available. Whatever.

I think about this all too often, in all too much detail. I can smell it, see it, hear it.

“So many people misunderstand suicide. Their fist assumption is “It’s the pussy way out.” or “They’re insane.” These are NONSENSE perceptions. Suicide is where ONE DECIDES VOLUNTARILY TO DESTROY THEIR OWN CONSCIENCE. I would not by any means, consider this to be cowardly. Everyone, insofar as they are conscious, are madmen; and once they are dead, they cease to be madmen, because along with the abolition of the consciousness comes an abolition of thoughts, and thereby torture. One who is dead feels neither happiness nor sadness, but cannot feel anything. He is free from the world. Suicide is NOT against nature –– suicide, in fact, is PERFECTLY natural, as natural as life. If suicide was not against nature, then why did she predispose a vision of a man whose thoughts could entertain, and much less CARRY OUT, the act?”

My communications are failing me. Every day is lagging. The context of all my little conversations are drama-inducing. No matter how much soap I use, no matter how hard I try to wash away, there is still the basic flesh. I crawl along the walls, falling into the shower curtain, clinging onto the webs I created for him. I am no simple person, but I wish I was, because my mind always goes forth in search of things that aren’t there. I cannot, and will not, stop who I am. But I have come close.

Q: Where is he now that I need him?
A: Nowhere.

There is so little true sympathy to be found.

“I write this from a quaint little hotel in Munich. My mouth still tastes of cloves, and every breath I take still reeks of Merlowe, despite my mouth washing efforts. Besides me lies a semi-tattered Flogging Molly flag I ripped off of a pole in the Czech Republic, very damn near endangering my life. Oh, and how sweet! The burn on my shoulder has begun to blister and peel.

The rumbling of my stomach recreates for me the mystery meat lump they attempted to feed us for dinner tonight. My legs are stubbly, a reminder of my time away from home, as well as the dark circles beneath my eyes that seem to be slowly consuming more of my face with every night in these damn hotels I spend not sleeping, but slaughtering mass amounts of mosquitos instead. The proof of the mosquito slaughter is especially lovely in room “605″ of the lovely “HOTEL LEGIE” in Prague, which, if you’ve ever seen the Grudge, is enough to scare the living shit out of you.

Through all of this, through all of the rest of the WONDERFUL people on the trip, the constant stampede of all our suitcases through the streets, the awkward bus ride sleeping positions, the homesickness, the bitchiness, and the general unpleasantness, I am thoroughly enjoying myself. This is not an attempt at sarcasm. With every beautiful city we have seen, there is something in me becoming attached to this place. The buildings here are tall, but not overpowering. The overgrown ivy is a perfect touch to the ancient cathedrals and large castles looming about you amongst cafes and three story H&M’s, a vague attempt at commercialization.

However, this place is scarred. As Kevin Kennedy, one of our tour guides, pointed out “Germany’s history is just a terrible, bloody mess.” But, in spite of this, in spite of the wars, the clashing of political parties, the economic downfall, the separation – they have really done an amazing job at bandaging themselves up. They’ve risen above their former country, and continue to grow on a daily basis. Here, it is safe and open. People are open about their sexuality, their opinions, their drugs, their lives. They are a humbled people. Everywhere there are ghosts of everything they’ve overcome.”

This was before I went to Paris. This may sound a bit spoiled, but Germany was just as beautiful, if not better. Although, Paris has the most beautiful skies in the world. It was sitting in a boat ride looking up at the sunset that I fell in love with it. The skies are so large and open, and seem to reflect the mood of the whole entire city. I won’t ever forget the moment on that boat when I realized how in love with Europe I was. My eyes were tearing, and my hands shook. For the first time I felt like I belonged somewhere. It was one of those life changing “Ah-Hah!” moments. Here, in these cities, I felt I had a purpose. I felt comfortable with myself, with the people, with the land. Maybe it’s some former connection due to my ancestry, I don’t know. But, I felt as if I was home – really, truly home. Nothing here can EVER compare to it. I can’t wait to go back.