JULES: (sighs) I mean… I don’t know. I guess it’s– I guess it’s interesting, ’cause, like, before I ran away, uh, I had gone to the city to visit some old friends, and… we were having this exact conversation. And… Basically, um… I feel like I’ve framed my entire womanhood around men. When, like, in reality, I’m no longer interested in men. Like, philosophically. Like, like, what men want. Like, what men want is so boring. And simple, and not creative, and, like, uh… I just, like, I look at myself, and I’m like, how the f*ck did I spend my entire life building this. Like… (sighs) Like, my body, and my personality, and, like, my soul around what I think men desire? It’s just, like… it’s embarrassing. I feel like a… a fraud.
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­ShyGuy118: i really missed you today

ShyGuy118: are u really going to nyc for college?

Jules: i hope so

Jules: why… you gonna come with me??

ShyGuy118: would you like that?

Jules: it would be a dream



JULES: Some of the most profound relationships I’ve ever had have been with people I’ve never met.

I should have known I was setting myself up. Or maybe I did know. Maybe that’s, like, what I’m actually attracted to. Maybe that’s, like, the appeal.

The letdown. The fact that, like, none of it’s real. And it’s all a fantasy.

I do not quite have any words for it and it is indeed impossible to describe further, but something close to it should be—
melancholy.
Without utter doubt, melancholy.
I should stop pretending that the matter does not bother me anymore, it does. With full conviction by the heavy thud in my chest, it does. What is more saddening to this manner is that I have come to accept this resignation that there is nothing I could do about it. I've been living my life that way, by confiding into solemn retreat and actually convincing myself that there is nothing to be done. Even when in reality, there actually is.

one word to describe you (that i hope i wont ever feel but here we are): regret

where do i put all
the anger
the sadness
the frustration
all those *******
if they're about you
and yet
i cant talk to you...
not anymore

hey, do you remember that night on the first week of december? it was chilly, it was late, and i desperately need to go home. as we walk on the peaceful streets, stars above us, against the city lights... you held my hand. you reassured me repeatedly, "don't be scared, i'm here." weirdly enough, i feel safe. like everything was into place. the rest of the world don't matter. your hand intertwined with mine is enough.

i wish you could still reassure me now, like you did before. that i don't have to worry about anything, i am safe because you were with me. i wish the clock would still tick on us again. i would relieve those moments over and over and over and over and now i'm alone.

your nothing but a memory that will soon fade within me. it will mean nothing as time will pass. i'm truly dettached that way. so let me write what i feel on these pages. hoping they will last long that what i hope to forget.