I find myself thinking about Julian a lot more. Julian. He told me everyone called him Heath, but that it was fine that I called him Julian. It's strange, how my most lonely moments wander into memories of a voice I came to care very much about. I mean, I told this guy I loved him. Did I really mean it?

I believe I did.

He was such an amazing person, with all these abilities and talents and this view of the world that was wonderfully foreign yet familiar to me. He -still- is an amazing person. And his voice. It was so deep and full and resonating, like an echo into my soul. It would hum in my mind even when we weren't talking. It was difficult to forget anything he said. It still is. I remember telling him how hard I would try to get to North Carolina to see him this summer. How I would -make- my parents understand what an incredible person he was and so they would let me go see him. But things are so much easier said than done. That was about three and half months ago. Three and half months since we grew apart.

Now I have $600 in my pocket and a good four weeks till college starts, and ironically, I don't think he wants to see me. Or maybe I'm just telling myself that because I'm too afraid to buy the ticket and ask my mother to drive me to the airport. No. It might be that, but I really think he wouldn't want to. And it makes me very sad.

I remember the night he told me. I was shivering but my voice was so steady. It was as if I already knew what he was going to say but I was afraid to ever believe it just in the off-chance that I was wrong. He wouldn't say anything, kept telling me not to worry about it, but I kept telling him to tell me. And he did.

I think he realizes now the kind of person I am. That maybe I really am not as wonderful as I was then. Maybe he realizes how foolish he was in saying what he did. But I can't know what he thinks or how he feels, because I don't talk to him. And I'm afraid to ask. Maybe because one side of me knows its none of my business. Then another part of me shouts at me, telling me it is. I stopped caring which side was right, because I can't ever call him again.

About a week and a half ago, while I was in Florida working for my aunt, I was sitting on the balcony and looking at my phone. I scrolled down my phonebook list to his name and hit 'Talk'. But it wasn't his number, it was an old number of a cell phone his grandmother had given him that he had returned. His grandmother picked up and I freaked. I told her an elaborate and disgustingly fabricated lie about being a friend of his from school. Clearly, my story wasn't adding up, as I could tell from her voice as she said she would tell him I called. I hung up without saying thank-you or goodbye. I wish I could apologize to her. I didn't mean to lie. I was just scared, afraid, and alone. Reaching back for a memory. Reaching so hard. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry, Julian.

I wonder if I told who her I really was if she'd know. I had forgotten he had told his family about me. But I'm sure they've already forgotten me as well. The mysterious girl from a faraway island who loved their son, grandson. The extent of my family's knowledge of Julian was just as a boy that might or might not have been friends with Kyle, that I called almost every night. I'm sure my mother is relieved about not having heard about him for a very long time.

But I'm not relieved. Not at all. I miss him. I miss you. Very much. But I can't invade your life anymore. I believe that you're this incredible thing, that I can't measure up, that you deserve someone better, someone with your level of spirituality and intellect and sense. And you do. You so really do. I talk to you of dumb, silly material things because that's all I am. Dumb, silly material things. With a one-time quirp of deigned great thought. I can imagine him saying he's not. But he is. He's going to think, write, speak, and do amazing powerful things. I can feel it. He's got the itch. He's already asking questions I never even knew to ask. He's got ambition. Whilst I do not.

Right now, I laugh softly to myself, hearing my best friend scold me in my head. I shouldn't put myself down like that, she says. I'm a good person, and I am just as great. But I shake my head. This is how I feel. And if I can't be truthful about that then there's really no point. I have no ambition. That is the tell-tale answer to my father's question: "What is wrong with you?"

I. have. no. ambition. I'm only playing at plans for the future. I have dreams, but I am only a dreamer. I'm too lazy, too weak to do anything about it. I'm not trying hard enough.

Its this weakness that keeps me here. In memories. Wanting them to be happening again, to have never ended. Depending on people. Taking immense comfort and happiness in hearing his voice.

In his strength, he has moved on.

While I still visit his journal, wishing for a new entry, and reading the old, reveling in the memory of his kindness and his words.

Yeah, I'm the crazy girl they warn you about. The clingy one. Hold onto your hair.

...

Heh...

I cry for things that cannot be.

-Saturday, July 16, 2005, 2:04 AM

It's hard to think. of things. some things, just don't.

work.

I feel....Full? Runneth Over?

with thoughts.

Hugs. are good. very...get one

kisses taste. lovely nights and days.

chocolate mouths.

Night is empty. We fill.

it all up,

Dreaming, nightmares

marring, dreams

too much to hold inside.

The sun.

warm mornings, hot after noon.

unbearably... worsening till then.

no Respite.

words mean....

such things, such

thing,s.

hidden-truth runs,

through. each second...

beat. ing. , lies

tried?

-sigh-

I

upon the ground.

fell.

...too hard?

Random, mostly. See that picture? That's Yoshitaka Amano, an artistic genius. And that's his -Sandman- . The Lord Morpheous of Dreams. Dream himself. I rather like the guy.

I think I might switch it later on to another one of his pictures, and keep along that pattern. Maybe, maybe not. No commitment.

I know this is rather sparse compared to the last one, but I felt I needed sparse. *nods*

Sparse is such a nice word. Almost a name. Almost.

Oh, and it was really at night, on my computer.

Hayao Miyazaki movies I own:

- Princess Mononoke

- Spirited Away

- Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind

# of Hayao Miyazaki movie I have yet to get: 5

That was for me it was. Don't flatter yourself. I wouldn't waste your time with that.

Oh, the sky was fire this morning.