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Caraah, formerly ladyoftheglade.
16 September 2020 @ 05:06 pm


The Girl: Caraah Rhiannon. College student, just home from a semester abroad in Western Ireland. Lifelong idealist, liberal pacifist, hopelessly sentimental romantic, and pensive dreamer. Always a believer in magic of any kind. Lives for theater, music, passion, and the people in her life. Incapable of making decisions and writing short entries. Lover of milkshakes, the bright side of life, and the written, spoken, or sung word. Working for her chance to change the world. My motto?

"Life is sort of beautiful if you let it come to you." -Martin Vanderhof, 'You Can't Take it With You'

The Journal: A sequel to ladyoftheglade. Banner by pumaful, dear friend and iconner extraordinaire. Created so that I would have a place to record my path to self-reliance, peak experiences, and a career in Theatre Education. A chronicle of passions, adventures, and dreams.

* * *

New friends are always welcome; a journey traveled alone is a wasted trip. Simply comment with your name and how we met, and consider yourself a companion.

And so it begins...


-Caraah
 
 
I feel:: calmcalm
 
 
Caraah, formerly ladyoftheglade.
26 April 2010 @ 07:54 pm
I am exactly where I did not want to be.  I am exactly where I tried not to be.

Finals start a week from today.

I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, or how to figure it out.  I do not know who to talk to about it, who can even offer anything close to an answer.  I cannot talk to anyone I know tonight, because I am too fragile, too lost, and too infuriated with myself.  I might have to leave.  But where would  I go?  I don't have the time, or the money.  

I think I know what I want, but there doesn't seem to be a way to get it.  And fuck, does it hurt.  That should mean something, shouldn't it?  Who the fuck knows? Maybe I'm wrong. It wouldn't really be possible, anyway.

The level of my own hypocrisy makes me physically ill.

Please, for the love of God, let her be well again.  I'll do anything. I'll give anything.  I can't bear seeing her crack like that, knowing she's teetering.  I can't possibly bear being outside, except when he comes up.  No fucking way.

I wish I were her.  Or him.  I wish I were enough.  What happened?  I know I'm obsolete, but they'll argue if I say so. Maybe they don't realize it.  I am legitimately happy at the state of them, and legitimately cheering (loudly) for a progression.  But I know that in the process, I have become fringe.  I knew I would.  It just fucking burns, sometimes, if I think about it too much.  So I don't.

I am sick and tired of disappointing. I am sick and tired of pangs.  I am sick and tired of not knowing anything, and not being enough, and losing, and aching over losses. 

Please bring her back.  Please, please bring us back.  I need that so much more than I ever even thought, much less can say.  Please, give me that to hold on to.  I can't lose it.  Not this.

God damn it.