Dear Journal,

I have been thinking a lot about ending things. Especially in the evenings, when the sun begins to fade after dinner. It’s funny, because I spent so much time trying NOT to die a few years ago, that to have suicidal thoughts crop up again feels annoying. They’re not old friends anymore, like they were before. I don’t snuggle up with them anymore, and they no longer fit like a glove. Now, they’re pests that I no longer try to resist. Thoughts of ending things swarm around my head and I accept them, listening to the bugs with their parasitic message. 

It’s strange to have them return. I feel the squeeze of a rope during that moment when my terry headband wraps around my neck before wrapping around my hairline. I feel it when waiting in line at store, and my gaze lands on a two-dollar bottle of Advil (I am allergic). I fantasize about getting back together with my ex, so I can take the handgun stored under his bed and use it against myself. I feel the urge now, and it feels unavoidable.

I’m tired of living with the messiness and with a lack of hope. I have no certainty that things will get better. Sure, I have dreams, and I know I can empower myself to achieve some of them, but I feel so disillusioned that I think it’s easier to die than to live with another letdown. 

I will obviously not go to heaven, and that’s okay. Sinners like me don’t belong there. Enough said. Some people will benefit from me no longer being on this planet. Like other job hunters with similar skillsets to me, or my sister, because she can then have the room to herself again. 

But that’s not the point, and I know choosing to end things isn’t the best way, if any way at all, to cope with my problems. It’s just that choosing the right path feels like too much right now. I don’t know if I have it in me to ask my sister, yet again, to put food away instead of leaving it out on the counter. I don’t have it in me anymore to begin filling out another job application, conscious to the reality that it’s most likely I won’t receive a reply. I don’t have it in me anymore to see the pets around the house remain dirty, unfed, flea-infested, and worst of all, neglected. I don’t have it in me to meet up with my lovely friend Jenna, whom I feel like I am my best self around (clean, considerate, and soft) and once I get home, spend an hour crying at how awful my life is in comparison. In essence, I feel trapped at home. I have no money, no inner peace, and no way to climb out. And that’s why I’m going to end it all.

You’re probably thinking I’m a coward, and I accept that. I, in fact, agree with you. But I’m not really in the best place right now, so I’m not really capable of making good choices. I hope you can be stronger than I am, and I hope you can forgive me.

Boy, am I glad to have not shared this blog with anyone, because if they were to read this, then they might reach out. There sure are benefits to not showing your true self to others.

All my love,

AMY LEE 

November 2023

It feels like I’m high school all over again. The work is endless, the work is unfulfilling, and my home life is exhausting. I’m begging the universe for a scrap of kindness, but instead I’m left holding my breath and feeling defensive.

It’s mostly a lack of time to myself and a lack of time spent in nature. Sure, I sleep enough to not be yawning in class, but not enough for me to feel upbeat and happy about life. But my walk to class is polluted with busy streets and sterile sidewalks, a far contrast to the nature path near the old house I used to live at! I’m having trouble getting that same effect over here <frowns> And the way I used to have an entire room to myself! I was so privileged and didn’t even know it. I mean, I’m friendly with the girl I share with, but my introverted self just wants to be left alone. So I can absorb the silence and empty space and allow my thoughts to diffuse, difficult moments floating off into the distance. The same way each step in a walk wears down these difficult thoughts, like an embarrassing moment in the CoHo this morning or the way teachers can be annoying sometimes, until I realize half an hour has passed, and it’s time for me to head home, feeling light as air.

Such a mood booster.

But I feel better this time around. I’m older now; more wisdom accumulated. I know, if all else fails, that eventually things will get better, due to the randomness of events. Eventually I’ll meet nicer people. Eventually, say, my roommate with have a meeting that runs late, or I’ll find money on the ground. Also, I’ve gone to therapy and no longer allow to self-hate to possess me. It was easy to then, but not anymore. I have a foundation of self-love, and it gives me an approach to all these stresses that surround me, like school, money, love, housemates, and the logistics of travel. So I simply breathe, slowly and deeply, and remind myself of why I’m doing all this. Sure, I’ve got to be careful of my tendency to people-please, but I can (and do!) communicate my side of the story, and it makes all the difference.

–To Do–
Research jobs, 5 of them
Apply to them
Text Mary Anne?
Typing test

Today is August 10th, 2023

Journal Entry
On Monday morning I talk to S online. We chat about our lives: the people who have wronged her,
news and doubts in my romantic relationship with Ken, and small talk about how our families are
doing. I spend the rest of the day relaxing, laying on the couch and thinking about how I should clean out the fridge.

Facing My Fears Helped Me Grow as a Person
Fall quarter had its mix of good and bad events, but the unpleasant share weighed heavily. I had
extreme anxiety and nausea was my constant companion. I learned to live with this fear, of trying hard and having it all go to waste. I learned that I resented my professors and going to class because it reminded me of my relationship to my mom growing up—of having to hang on to every word she said and my survival depended on this. I knew this wasn’t exactly fair to them, they were nice people and the subject matter is interesting, but I held this resentment anyway. When studying for my micro econ class final exam I looked over the practice final but skipped the first question since it wasn’t something covered in class. Surely, he wouldn’t test us on something not covered in lecture. But sure enough, that very same question appeared on the final exam. I felt defeated, embarrassed, and a little angry. Angry at him and myself since I ended up earning a D in that class. Now, I am sure to be more cautious of these tricks that professors like to play on us. My fear was that I was powerless to get the things I want. I’m terrified of a lack of personal agency. But I went to class despite feeling like a fraud, and I attended office hours with deliberation and mindfulness.
I felt the nausea in my stomach and did box breathing to cope. I took each day one at a time, and
allowed myself to reclaim my power by allowing myself to feel proud of myself. I slowly grew as a
person.

Winter quarter was my favorite of all. My classes were engaging; a combination of interesting and
challenging. I don’t like when school is boring and easy. I joined a study group for my game theory class and we developed an almost friendship-like bond with them. We joked around while discussing
variations on the Prisoner’s Dilemma and second-price sealed-bid auctions. One of the guys in the group worked at Woodstock’s so after this class’s final exam we all went out to eat there after the final, and I still talk to one of the girls from that group today. I also had a crush on another guy from that group, and I’d get a faint thrill whenever we’d exchange thoughts.

Dear Diary,

Life has been hard recently. I broke up with my boyfriend, and I don’t know if it was the right move. You see, I was feeling lonely and disconnected from him over the winter holidays, and I wanted to see/talk to him more often. But the pictures sent to him went unanswered, and when I texted him asking if he wanted me to stop sending him pictures I didn’t get a satisfactory answer (he didn’t say that I should continue), so naturally I felt sad and irritable. Living at my parent’s place is difficult, and that backdrop of exhaustion and unhealthy food didn’t give me the energy nor motivation to give my poor boyfriend the benefit of the doubt. I began to feel hopeless about the situation, and my thoughts spiraled down to anxiety and on the verge of tears whenever a quiet moment arose. My mom noticed and told me to stop agonizing. I was deciding whether or not to break up with him.

This rupture had been a lingering thought in my mind these last few months, but the thought of being without the restaurant meals and the lack of sex made breaking up hard. Plus he’d get me these little gifts when I asked! These golden handcuffs stopped me from seeing him and uttering those words of separation. Why go back to lonely Saturday nights? Why abandon that sense of smugness that I have a boyfriend? And so I ended up with him, even if it felt like settling.

If I could be honest I’d say that I’m rather cynical about love. I don’t expect to be happy. Yet here I was, with him, because he cleans, the sex is nice, and he takes me out to eat. Sure, I’d like it to be someone who’s sophisticated, cultured and has a high income, etc, but given my dismal dating history I felt unable to contest this offer. So who am I to turn that down? I’ve been trying to find someone since late 2021, and here I am in 2024 with no one.

But I can’t lie to myself anymore. I don’t want someone who’s nice to date due to superficial traits. I want, deep down inside, to be with someone I admire. Someone who cares about the outcomes of the systematically disadvantaged, someone who is patient when the check stand line grows long, someone who does good. And is attractive, of course.

And certainly someone who responds to my messages.

And so on Sunday night I decide to stop thinking about it so much. I can’t go on pretending the abyss between us doesn’t affect me. I open my phone and go to the notes app, hunched over on my bed. I type out my thoughts. I’m halfway through before the boom of fireworks jerks my head upwards. It’s the New Year, of course. I feel a tingle of sadness. I wanted so badly to have a new year’s kiss. Of course, I end here typing out a breakup text. Why can’t I ever be happy? I finish my thoughts, careful not to insult him, and hit the little blue circle with the upward arrow key before I lose my nerve. I lay down on my bed and breathe slowly. My body aches for what I have done.

Signed,

AMY LEE

It’s a holiday party. The night is cool, the company is nice, and I’m here with my sweetie. He’s out of sight. I sip my punch and scan the room. I see the tree sparkling and people standing about, surrounding the dessert table. I look down and see my small plate has only a crumb and a sprinkle to offer me.

This can’t be!

I walk over to the dessert table, drawn by the green glaze of the pretzel wreaths, and reach down to get one.

A hand stops me. I look up, confused and annoyed. I’m hungry, man!

It’s an unfamiliar man. He wears a blue ugly Christmas sweater, gold thread embedded in the fibers.

“Hi, I’m Diego Martinez”, he says. His hand reaches out. “I also worked for Amazon”.

I shake his hand, flustered. I grab the pretzel wreath and begin to converse with him. He’s a friendly enough man here. He recognized my name from an old training he gave when I first joined the company, and him about to leave the institution.

Right. I remembered. The excitement of such a discovery, the changing of worlds.

It’s too much for me right now.

I see my sweetie. I excuse myself, hoping to find some comfort on the other side of the room. It’s no use. His daughter Paulina (they allow kids here?) tags along after me. I slow my walk down. It’s no use to abandon her. I hear her ask me about my sweetie. I brush the hair out of my face and laugh a little, hoping to relieve the tension rising in my chest.

She echos my laugh and asks again. Huh? Her question startles me.

Diego Martinez follows behind her and scoops her up until she’s comfortably leaning into his chest. I look around, and meet my sweetie’s and Diego’s eyes.

I decide to answer her question. Why not?

“My darling is my lovely husband. He’s the one who buys me dinner, is …., and on more than one occasion has been nicer to me than I am myself. He’s given me soup and medicine and kind words when I’m sick, and texts me when he’s on the way to pick me up. He has shown nothing but kindness to me, and on moments when he hasn’t, I’ve told him so and came to see that it’s been a misunderstanding. He’s a tranquil man, loyal to his family, and I’m proud to stand by his side.”

I feel relaxed and look at Diego. My eyes move over to see the people once more. A lady in a red coat adjusts her slouch hat, a line forms around the hot cocoa bar, and I see the sparkle of apple cider splash into a clear cup. I smile. After all, it’s a holiday party.

October 16, 2023

Dear Journal,

Today I met his family. Or at least, virtually. I was reading for my Spanish class at the dining room table when he comes up to me and asks if I want to meet his brothers. I feel somewhat annoyed since I was trying to get some work done but I feel relieved at the same time, because the text was difficult to decipher. And I mean, I have been willing to meet them. To have them ooh and ahh over something my boyfriend’s intentionally holding back from them. It’s a little unexpected but I’m not one to shy away from uncomfortable moments so I tell him yes, yeah I’d love to meet them.

His tiny phone screen reveals four rectangles peppered with color and detail and movement, yet all of the faces really resemble his own. His youngest brother captures my attention because this young man in the lower right rectangle looks exactly like the pictures I’ve seen of my boyfriend as a child. It’s eerie. I feel like I’m looking in the physical past, when I have the present sitting right next to me in this moment. I felt a little tense, I realize now as I write this, but I didn’t register that at the time. I felt a little nervous, like I was at an audition or some job interview.

I’m taking stock of how my body feels because I think it’ll give me insight into how I really feel about this whole thing. See if I like his family or not. See if I like him or not. And the truth is that I don’t really feel impressed by his family. Sure, they’re tightly knit. But there’s a lot of teasing, and even if it’s friendly it’s not something I’m in to. I prefer to keep my words literal, and my affections clear and obvious. His mom seems like a sweetheart, and his brothers had their friendly questions for me. But this is only one glimpse. Perhaps I can build my own connection to them that differs from the one present among this family. The “inter” can be different from the “intra”.

I think I felt a little dread. I can’t imagine being happy with them, at least not my true best self. I mean, we’re different. They’re free, loud and chatty, and I’m quiet, introspective and sensitive. I’m worried that I’ll lose my sense of self if I join them. Of course, I am willing to find a common middle ground but sometimes I simply do not wish to. Sometimes I don’t want to have to suck it up. Maybe that’s what I will pick eventually. Go find happiness elsewhere. I don’t know the resolution to this. Maybe I can’t admit the truth (or am unwilling) to myself again after the disappointment and pain of Michael. Again, I don’t know how to resolve this. But I do know that it’s nine minutes until midnight, and my bed calls me. Godspeed.

Love as always,

AMY LEE

August 31st, 2023

Dear Journal,

I’m really not sure what to make of our relationship. When I’m with him I feel happy and glad to be with him. But when I take a step away I begin to have doubts about our relationship.

These are the issues:

> He doesn’t speak French, which I find problematic because speaking French is really quite important to me, and if not him then with whom??

> He wants to live in Texas, maybe the in the Dallas outskirts. It’s a problem because I simply do not wish to live in the South.

> He’s in the military and I don’t want to travel around whenever he gets deployed or otherwise sent around by the DoD.

> I suspect he may have politically conservative leanings and I’m not sure I want that in my life.

But I hesitate to bring these concerns up because I’m worried I’ll rock the boat and he’ll break up with me. I don’t want to be single!! And I don’t want to be with the wrong person!! I wish I could bring these concerns up with other people in real life, and I feel frustrated by this.

This morning my mom came home early to have lunch with me (which I appreciated) but she began to dump all this relationship advice on me and I nearly began to cry. She talked about the motives behind men and women to marry and how sex was the reason men married and how women should give their dudes sex lest they seek it elsewhere (???). I disagree. To me sex is a fun bonding activity for grown folks. Don’t need to be married, just be aware that it binds people closer together, for the better or worse of the individuals involved. I wish I could tell her this. I’m worried she’ll judge me and it’ll alienate us (good lord knows we aren’t exactly besties) so I keep silent. But perhaps not, she already knows we’ve done the deed and I don’t feel alienated. Rather this is the most personal info I’ve given her in several months. So I guess my fears might be unfounded. So anyway she was giving me marriage advice. But I could barely focus on what she was saying; I had this voice saying, “no, no, no” inside me. This voice rang true and sustained within me. And this is why I nearly started to cry. Because even though Ken is a great guy, kindhearted and stable, I felt unease when my mom shared relationship info with me. I feel torn. The core of the matter is:

I love “us” but I don’t love “him”.

Wow. There it is.

The truth.

I love us. We cook dinner together, go to the Post Office together, exchange glances, watch movies together, and sneak kisses in the Arboretum. And we have so much compatibility in key areas: tastes in food, driving styles, humor, sex drives, texting, and PDA. I feel safe bringing up wants and needs in our “us”. I feel proud of him in these areas. When I’m with him the words “stable” and “largely confident” come to mind.

But I don’t really like the way we don’t have long conversations or can’t switch between English and French with ease, the way I do with myself. I certainly could with the previous dude, and a part of me longs for that. I don’t like the way he’s not into intellectual matters and dislikes Excel (??) I can’t imagine having a conversation with him on the topic of immigration from a research standpoint.

I wish I could fast-forward into the future and see if Amy Lee ends up with him for the long haul or not. Ease my doubts and whatnot. But for now I stay.

Dear Journal,

I’m still with Ken, and things are progressing nicely. I may even tell him I love him after the passage of a few weeks.

Oh, who am I kidding. The truth is I’m having doubts about our relationship. The original terms were to be bf/gf for a year, and then we break up once I graduate and presumably leave Davis/NorCal. But I think he (we?) is not holding up the bargain. I think I feel closer to him than expected and kinda want to marry him? My body says “yes”, but a small yet persistent voice says “no”. My body is relaxed and unwound when we lay together on his queen-sized bed with the navy sheets, and when I’m there and conscious of it it feels natural that we should stay together forever. But when I’m here at home, typing away at my desk with my own twin-sized bed with my crisp white sheets nearby I feel tense and unhappy, confident that he is simply not the guy for me. And so I believe the best course of action is to fully understand my feelings towards him, even if it takes several months. My body won’t allow me to suppress emotions, and I don’t wish to harm myself with inaccurate projections.

I know our relationship is healthy. Last Saturday when he came home and we settled into bed, I took a risk and said, “Actually, there’s something I need to tell you”. He stills and I take it as a good sign. I tell him that when he arrived unexpectedly early at the house that night I was on a call with my sister, where I came to realize that I was unhappy. I was unhappy because I wish he would open up to me more. We don’t talk enough and when you don’t it makes me feel like you don’t care about me. He responds instantly and reassures me that he does. It feels genuine, and I feel a pang in my chest. I tell him that he doesn’t need to change his personality, but I do wish he would open up more. He says that he will, and he does. He tells me more about the problems his family’s facing back home, with his younger siblings moving to homeschooling due to the issues with their current school, the troubles the family business is facing and that they might sell it, that his employer is facing budget difficulties, his current promotion from a couple months ago is more demanding than expected, and more details about his interpersonal relationships to his brothers. I do feel better. Not only has he accepted my complaint (which I was sure to do tactfully), he also followed through. And this is why I say I want to stay with him. He’s emotionally mature. We have our differences, but we have a way to resolve (or at least navigate) them. I end up feeling closer to him, despite the topic of my phone call with my sister. It’s a really nice feeling.

Overall I will keep thinking about us. About him. About me, and why I feel the way I feel. About why I feel disconnected when we don’t talk, or if this is all I genuinely want. Because I have some concerns:

He wishes to live in Texas and I do not.

He doesn’t speak French and doing so is really important to me.

I suspect he may be the religious type and I am not.

But I don’t know if these are deal-breakers. All I can do is my best, listening to my body and staying honest. But I do know (and with a high level of confidence) that he cares about me, and I care about him.

With love,

AMY LEE ❤

Dear Diary,

I’m dating someone! His name is Ken. Unfortunately, he is not the guy with kind eyes or the one who helped me with my essays, but he does for now. Ken is a few months younger than me, works fixing planes at the military base nearby, and was suggested to me by a current roommate. Ken drives a white pickup truck and has paid for me this whole time.

I feel a little bad about him paying since I’m not really into him but a part of me likes it. It reminds me of Paul, my ex from when I used to live in Paris. I met Paul through church and I felt that we stuck to a religious, heteronormative template of dating: I was the pretty one who needed help translating everything to English, and he was the one who’d pick me up at my place and buy me artisanal ice cream at Gianrossi’s, where we’d sit and have long conversations. I liked spending time with Paul (at the time I thought of him as the boy version of me), but I felt he didn’t care about me much so I when I moved back to the US I broke off the relationship. And then there’s the fact that Paul is openly racist. So no, I will not date Paul anymore, even if he is handsome and his parents are ambassadors and has a sexy Spanish accent (huge plus in my book).

I feel bad about Ken paying because up until now, I planned on cutting things off with him. I’m sure he doesn’t earn much over in the armed forces, and we’ve already gone out to eat three times. I just don’t feel a passionate connection to him, if I can be honest. I’m not repelled by him, that’s certain, but if you’ve read my previous articles you’ll see that in my Dear Michael post that I’d be with a guy who is sweet, smart, and hardworking. Ken is definitely sweet, probably hardworking, but I’m not sure about the college part. And now I’m wondering if I should keep this as a criterion for my ideal guy. Because… gosh… I’m starting to get attracted to Ken. Wow!

<Three weeks later>

Wow! I’m starting to feel the slow burn and I’m glad to feel that. Ken’s a regular guy, the good kind, with a gentleman-like edge to him. Let me tell you about him. He is taller than me, has the kind of fair skin that looks pink (my secret pet name for him is strawberry milk man), is muscular (ooh), and has blue eyes. He’s on the quiet side and I appreciate that, since as an introvert I get tired easily from talking. He always wears jeans, a T-shirt, and sunglasses when we go out. He likes walking and I do too! That’s usually what we do when we go out: we grab a coffee and walk around downtown Davis, but lately I want to deviate and try something else.

Here’s what we have in common: We’re both easy-going, the oldest child, have the same name as our same-sex parent, and were prohibited from reading and watching Harry Potter by our mothers when we were younger due to it being “witchcraft”. I get the sense that we both had one of those ridiculous religious backgrounds that influences our perceptions of dating and the world, but I definitely reject this template since it does not serve my true self. But it is familiar and somewhat comforting, since I benefit from him being a provider. (Of course in the future I intend [and genuinely desire] to contribute financially and emotionally in our relationship). Why wouldn’t I let myself be taken cared of now? I think I need to be cautious. I don’t want to let nostalgia lead me down the wrong path.

But it’s nice to walk around town with a tall hunk who buys you food and picks you up and texts you when he’s almost at your place. It sure beats staying at home daydreaming about Michael, and I prefer living in reality and not a fantasy. My reality requires effort, but it’s real, it’s mine and I have a say in the matter. And for those reasons I will continue to date Ken, listen to him carefully and generously, and brush my hair nicely before walking out the house to his truck.

Sincerely,

Amy Lee

(Note: Scroll down for an English translation.)

Michael,

El contenido de esta carta te puede sorprender pero en mi opinión la vida es desmasiada corta para no decir la verdad.

Te doy las gracias porque me has dado la felicidad de una chica enamorada. Hacía mucho que no me siento así y fue un placer sentirlo de nuevo. Diste sentido a las canciones de amor. ¡Sé de qué hablan! Hasta durante esas semanas de mayo yo andaba en mi propio mundo de euforia mientras toda la ciudad de Davis andaba con el miedo de los homicidios. Fueron unos días de alegría para mí.

Pero nunca llegué a decirte todo esto porque aprendí de que no andabas soltero. Tú mismo me dijiste de que tienes pareja y unos días después otra amiga me dijo que te ibas a casar dentro de dos semanas a una chica buena. Así que me quedo sin decir nada. Yo no me meto con las personas que ya tienen pareja, aún menos con las que están apunto de casarse.

No voy a buscar personas que son igualitas a ti, pero si en algún momento me ves con una pareja, te aseguro que va a tener cualidades inspirados por ti: será un hombre dulce, guapo, y siempre dispuesto a dar ayuda. Va a ser súper listo y trabajador. Va a ser un hombre en que tengo mucho orgullo, del mismo modo que sentía hacia ti.

Nunca olvidaré tu forma de decir <<hola>> casi silencioso, tu forma de dar la atención entera a las personas que están hablando ni la lista que me mandaste después de preguntarte qué hay para hacer por Davis. Nunca olvidaré tus kind eyes ni las chispas de gris en tu pelo ni el lunar que tienes en el lóbulo de la oreja derecha.

Te felicito por tu casamiento, aunque mejor felicito a la mujer que tiene el suertazo de decir que es la mujer de Michael. Te felicito por haber encontrado un trabajo en Oklahoma, y te deseo mil felicidades en tus próximas aventuras.

Un saludo,

Amy Lee

For Michael

Michael,

The contents of this letter might surprise you but I believe life is too short to not say the truth.

I’ve got to give you thanks because you’ve given me the happiness of a girl in love. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt this way and it was nice to feel it again. You gave meaning to love songs. I know now what they’re talking about! During those weeks in May I was in my own world of euphoria despite the city of Davis being scared to death with the ongoing homicides. Those were my days of happiness.

But I never got around to telling you this because I learned that you’re not single. You yourself told me that you have a partner and a few days later a friend told me you’re getting married to a nice woman in two week’s time. So I remained silent. I don’t involve myself with people who have partners, much less those about to get married.

I’m not going to try and find someone exactly like you, but if you see me sometime with a partner, I promise they’ll have characteristics inspired by you: he’ll be a sweet man, handsome and always willing to lend a hand. He’ll be really smart and hardworking. I’ll feel very proud of this man, the same way I felt towards you.

I’ll never forget your nearly silent way of saying “hello”, the way you give each person speaking your undivided attention, or the list you sent me after I asked you about things to do in Davis. I’ll never forget your kind eyes or the flecks of gray in your hair or the mole on your right earlobe.

I congratulate you on your marriage, although perhaps I should congratulate the woman who has the extreme luck of being your wife. I congratulate you for finding a job in Oklahoma, and I wish you the best in your upcoming adventures.

A greeting,

Amy Lee