Today I was looking through the philosophy section of the half-priced books in Redmond, craving an answer. In my many years of being an atheist I've never been an exorable person, so no one has really ever been able to convince me otherwise. But lately being an atheist has come with such a feeling of emptiness, and feels more like a lethargic past time than a stance. I've been trying to fill this void by indulging in my curiosities towards the tarot, superstitions, and palmistry. I don't believe in these things at really any level but when I study them the void seems to lessen, and I am suddenly more okay with the world. I was raised Lutheran throughout my childhood, but having a Jewish mother while being raised christian didn't exactly keep me from thinking religion was a silly thing. My father was always the religious one, but even not being that religious my mother was appalled by the thought that I didn't believe in God. She begged for me to be at least agnostic, so that I would be just questioning and not downright rejecting the idea of there being a God.

So the question remains, is this emptiness me becoming less of an atheist or just becoming more of an open minded person? It takes a pretty intrepid person to outright say, "I don't believe in a higher power" when most of the living population does. But this doesn't mean I should be an atheist out of pride, out of knowing no one can really tell me I was wrong. For some reason it seems easier to tell a religious person they're wrong than an atheist, but truly they're on the same playing field. I'm afraid that I've found some sort of safety in not believing in God, and I hope this is not the sole reason I've catered to this nihilistic part of me for oh so long.

Five months have gone by...New side of the country, new state, new college, new things for the family to gossip about, new friends, new number, eight new piercings, one new tattoo, new ways to make my father cringe.

Has anything actually fucking changed.

I know in my own head, "It's been six months, adapt! ADAPT GODDAMNIT!" but that is precisely my problem...I've never really left my own head this whole time. I'm not really here. I know where I still have been, after these enlightening and still grueling five months, but that would be inappropriate to say. The whole issue of how I'm supposed to feel right now, or even in general, has been plaguing me drastically. I'm hanging by a thread from the moment where I knew who I was, what I actually wanted, who I loved...but now it seems I have no choice but to give in to uncertainty.

But it feels like giving up. I don't want to give up. I don't want to give up on what my mind has been squeaking about for months upon months; I don't want life to have no, "Wow, it was meant to be after all." I can't stand the thought that this hasn't been my intuition, but just obsession. I've come to find that my intuition is almost never wrong, at least when it comes to issues within my own life. It could be that I haven't moved on because I refuse to, not because there's some divine force showing me the way to some objectifiable truth...I want to pull the curtain down to find the true audience staring at me, so the real cast members will get in their places; something that has to do more with emotion than procreation.

I'm not used to being honest.

At the beginning of my life, I was born with the immediate prison known as mental illness. I called it my grey box, you know, since humans are so obsessed with titles.

A few years later, I was put in another prison called school. My childhood seemed to be one obstacle after another. I was given the title of "gifted" but school was ridiculously hard due to my severe ADHD and other such learning disabilities that confusingly enough came along with the "giftedness". I was always considered one of the more intelligent children in my classes, so my struggles in school were seen as an "attitude problem". It also didn't help that I had extreme emotional problems now being diagnosed as bipolar disorder, when most six year olds were mostly concerned with being able to play the mother during house.

Even with the doctor's visits, the perscriptions and the IEP meetings, teachers still felt dismayed at me and my so called, "wasted potential" and people in general were still confused by my behavior. All this help seemed pointless at times, but eventually these things enabled me to live my life functionally, something I have not always been gifted with.

Now I'm going off to college, and I know it will be a completely different experience. I've always lived in a small town where I've never felt fully free to express myself, or even be myself, so hopefully my new location will help me grow the way I've never been able to before with such tight walls, ludicrous standards and restrictions held by those I will no longer be enslaved to.

But then there is my leering fear...That while in college, I will fall into an uncontrollable mental breakdown like I've done in the past. Maybe I'll be so happy that it won't happen, but then again, even the idea of happiness is something I'm still getting used to.

I hope this is a hole I can no longer fall into.

There's no room for doubt now, there's no way I can avoid incriminating him in my own mind any longer.

He is physically abusive.

I couldn't admit it to myself for the longest time, I wanted to feel like I was making a big deal out of nothing. I knew he was emotionally abusive, but truly, that didn't make me want to leave. I feel that most of my life has been a continuum of emotional abuse, so why exclude only one piece of the puzzle?

But this is too much.

He used to only do it when we were alone, and when we were still dating. I was at a party, saw him there, did not address him. He interrupted me talking to everyone else and shouted accross the room for me to come talk to him in the kitchen. I was hesitant, and didn't come right away. He initiated the communication. He kept calling me a bitch, and was about to walk away when I took hold of his wrist because I was sick of him walking away from things he started.

That's when he lost it.

Right there, one room away from all of our friends. I knew he was fucking crazy, but I was able to tolerate a lot before this point.

It's a strange feeling when someone disrespects you so much that they're willing to physically degrade you in public.

I'm leaving for college in September.

September couldn't come soon enough.

First off, the magically super fantastic best news in the world:

I got accepted into Evergreen State, and I shall be going to college in Washington in Late August.

Now the thing that almost ruined some of the best news of my life...

Justin tried to stab me. Big surprise, huh? Psycho boyfriend who has ruined the last year of my life, wait, make that over a year of my life, tried to stick a blade into me. Even though I was the one almost getting stabbed, he told me he didn't love me anymore and to get out, when fifteen minutes prior he was happy to see me and was holding me. Two days earlier he had been talking about us getting married and having kids. He's on disability for mental illness but even me who is a forgiving bleeding heart and an aspiring psychologist cannot take it anymore. He has made every moment of the last thirteen months a living hell, and my attachment problems and my inability to let go have left me swimming in the river styx. I got the last of my stuff from his apartment yesteday, and I could tell he wanted to talk or hug like the indecisive bastard he is, but I didn't even look him in the face. I know that me not saying a single word to him hurt him even more than if I had screamed at him and thrown punches. He's a drama queen and an attention whore, so I know it killed him inside. He's used to me crying at his feet and leaving all my dignity to fall to the ground, so my nonchalante apathy is a new thing for him. It's like I had moved to a new level above either the crying or screaming, something much worse. Silence. Silence is filled with such pure disgust and obscene betrayal that the person is not even worth the negative attention. It is like completely giving up on the person, like the things you used to love them to reassure you with don't even matter anymore. They have gone so far that those things can't even comfort you anymore. In a long quest to know if he really loves me, I suddenly feel that I just completely don't care anymore. The thought of him being with someone else used to kill me inside, but now the thought of still being with him kills me worse. I feel kind of free inside, but mostly degraded. I used to tell him I wished I had never met him, but now I actually mean it. It would have been better to be alone than to be so belittled and with my face shoved in the dirt on a regular basis. This is the first time I've really loved someone, and I don't think I'll ever recover.

I'm now so afraid of love that I may run at the sight of roses.