11252009

I have a boyfriend. I have someone to depend on. He's a good boy. Carl tried to get with me again. I didn't let him. I need to work. I have a good man behind me. I can work again. There's no more loneliness. He's mine.

11232009
"Modern Guilt" - Beck

I had a horrible dream last night about an elimination carnival--each ride would go awry and one person would die per ride. It was awful. It left me frightened. I slept very poorly last night. Tonight is the first night I've been able to sleep a merely seven hours and wake up on time and refreshed. It's very strange. I hope my mojo's back on track again.

11232009
"붉은 노을" - Big Bang

11222009

I feel like a fool sometimes. I always have such high hopes when I start out in romances but these hopes are always dashed in the end. Very rarely can I find a guy who cares for me as much as I want to be cared for--it's difficult to say as much as I care for him because it's difficult for me to care for anyone as much as I want to be cared for. I'm very selfish. I'm a big baby. I hate that about myself. I know Matt doesn't like me that much--doesn't want to date me (of course not, who wants to date someone like me; I really don't blame him)--and I'm just being delusional. I'm terrible. It disgusts me. I just want to stop talking to him so I can stop myself from doing something terrible to the relationship.

Everyone sees me as so reasonable. It's funny because I'm fucking crazy. It's ridiculous. How can people think I'm sane? Everyone thinks I'm the most rational girl they know--a real boy, in other words--but I spend so much time hiding my girly emotions. I'm so embarrassed of them. I want to be a robot. I don't want to have my feelings. They always throw me under a bus because I get too attached too quickly and then I have to hide them so that the boys don't get scared. I want them to see me as a friend. I want them to see me as a normal person. I spend so much time pretending to be normal. I used to think I was normal but then everyone told me I wasn't. So I started trying and now I almost have it down but not quite because people still think I'm 'unique.' I want to be just like everyone else. I want to disappear. God. Such anxiety for Sunday evening.

I just need someone to take care of me. I destroy myself when I'm alone. I need a mother. A maid. A wife. I need a servant. A slave. I feel overwhelmed by law school. I feel like there's nothing to hold onto sometimes being alone. Utterly alone. Bryan was a weakling. He doesn't have the fucking balls to live alone. He'd disintegrate into an insecure mess. At least I try to hold up as a matter of pride. I'm not afraid to go far away and never come back. It hurts to be alone and lonely, but I insist on being strong. I demand it of myself. He talks about working however many hours a day everyday and acts like he's such a badass but the truth is he'd wither on his own. He's never lived alone before. He's never known absolutely no one, never had to cook all his meals, never had to clean his own fucking house, never had to take care of himself without a parent breathing down his back. What a fucking mama's boy. I feel so bitter towards him because he was so weak and I stayed with him for so long and that I feel weak by proxy.

I need to be alone. It's the only way I can be free. I want someone to care about me and depend on me, but I have to be strong enough to depend on myself first. That's the root of it all. I don't ever want to rely on anyone else. I want someone to need me. But I want to need no one. I want to be self-sufficient. Strong. I don't want to be like Bryan.

Bryan. Ugh. Now disgusting.

11222009
"Come Back" - Depeche Mode

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be happy. I went back and read Daul's from January. It's like a count down. Now she has eleven months to live. Now she has five. Now she has one. Does she know? Does she make everyday count? Does she forget her loneliness when she knows that she'll die soon? It's so difficult to imagine death when you're young. You think it'll take forever--so you can waste away the time, take everything for granted. Then, when it becomes imminent, you think that you shouldn't have wasted all that time feeling sad and lonely. You should have spent more time seeing beauty; should have spent more time loving; spent more time laughing. When it's time to go, you think that you've wasted everything--that you're a waste. I don't know; she seemed so lonely. But if she knew that it was really going to end--would she still have been so lonely?

She wrote that, at the age of 13, she planned out her life and by the age of 20, her life had unfolded exactly like she'd planned at 13. That sounds so perfect. Everything goes as planned. And she still wanted to leave.

I don't want to leave. I don't want to give up. I want to work. Feel happiness. Be loved. Love. I know Jared's never coming back. He's been gone for five years. I still think about him everyday. I loved him so much. He is the epitome of love for me. But I never want to feel like that again. Because it ruined me for so many years afterwards. I want to feel loved and comfortable. I want to roll around in the bed for hours and laugh and never feel like I'm drowning again. I want to live. I want to live. I want to live. I want to say that to myself until I have no choice but to live--and live the best I can.

I want to live.

I started this journal at a time when I didn't. I wanted to die. But these days I find myself telling myself to live everyday--not planning to die. Maybe one day living will come easily. Maybe one day I won't have to fear death anymore and it to transitions creaselessly into the celebration of existence.

But still, I love you Jared. I've loved you for so long. Why did you leave?

11222009
"Glass Skin" - Dir en Grey

11222009

I really like Matt. He's just...easy and nice to get along with. It's strange that he's in the military because I never thought I'd go for a military man, but it's also oddly enticing to be with an officer; that is, to be with an officer when I'm such a punk kid who wears studded dresses and black nail polish. He's what you could call a straight-laced kid and I'm the femme fatale. All of his classmates have pursued me in one way or the other and I chose him--the best guy out of them all; the one with the best heart. Am I being selfish?

He likes me too. We had dinner and then we thought about watching a movie but ended up rolling around in my bed naked for hours--3 or 4?--and talking and laughing and he let me hold his dog tags and he'd sling me over his shoulder without any problem. I really like him. I'd like to be his girlfriend--I'd like him to help me chase away the loneliness. But am I just being selfish?

11212009

11202009

11202009
"사랑하지 말아요" - Gummy

Sometimes I just want to run back to Bryan and take him back from the forces of time and space. Sometimes I want to go back to how my life was before--less housework, less homework, less coping alone, more kisses, more novels, more friends--but I realize that's no way to live life. Life is hard. It's hard to keep going. It's hard to forget about the things that are no longer here. When I broke up with Bryan, I thought of leaving someone by the side of the road while my life took off in the passenger seat of some stranger. Now I'm sitting in the car wanting to go back--but it's too late. Now it's just homesickness without a home. There's no place to go back to. Being homesick's no way to live life.

I can crumble and take the easy way out. Or I can be what all my education and hardships have made me: strong. I know, logically, that this was the right choice for me and my heart and my life. And it hurts to make the right choice sometimes. But this is a challenge. I have to meet it. If I don't then I'll just be weak. I'll be no one. Nothing.

It's hard to chase dreams. It's hard to stick to them and not take the next best thing. But it's better to have gambled and lost than always wondering.

11192009
"Bank of Boston Beauty Queen" - Dresden Dolls

Daul Kim has been found dead in her Parisian apartment. For some reason this impacts me more than Michael Jackson's death--perhaps because I followed Kim's career much more closely than Jackson's. In many ways I thought she had a very ideal life. She was a strong, Asian woman working in an industry where Asians were a rarity; she was in high demand with designers and had a strong reputation with fashion lovers as something more than just another face. She flew all over the world, partied with the most influential, was very beautiful, was admired by all, and was a very edgy model.

I guess Kim's death impacts me because I always thought that her life would have been my ideal of perfection: traveling, fashion, decadence, avant-garde, and fame. But she still opted to commit suicide. In many ways, I think people glamorize jobs when they're on the outside. Law school is so boring. Lawyering will be so boring. But then, I'm sure modeling is boring too. I'm sure she gets lonely when she sits down at the end of the day and sees her life as an endless progression of stuff to do--stuff that she doesn't really care about, but stuff she has to do. Contracts reading; high fashion modeling--what's the difference. It's just something to do--something to do while you wonder what it is you really want to do anyhow.

We're all human. Everyone dies; but we all die alone.

11192009
"Lollipop" - 2NE1

I feel like a complete loser sometimes. I feel like I can't get anything done even though I'm finishing all the things on my to-do list more frequently than I could have ever hoped. I just feel so behind. I feel like I'm not the best.

I want to be down to 105lbs by Valentine's Day. I want to be perfect by Valentine's Day. I want to make Bryan regret losing me. But, most importantly, I want to show the world that I am the best they could ever hope for. I just want to be the best.

11182009

11182009
"Bad Romance" - Lady Gaga

Today has been shaping up to be a great day. I was called on in civil procedure and criminal law and did very well in both lines of questioning. I didn't miss any questions and I was articulate for the most part. What I can't get my mind around, however, are the views of some people in my class. We had two cases:

In the first case, a man had stolen two tractors and had damaged both for the purpose of trying to get his truck out of the mud over the course of up to seven hours. The only imminent danger the man faced was the possibility that his truck might tip over and the top of his truck might be damaged in the process tipping over. He was offered help by passerbys several times over the course of the seven hours and there is no evidence to suggest he couldn't have called a towing company or gotten to a location where a telephone would have been available. He was in no danger of dying or other physical harm. He made an argument for necessity: he had to steal the tractors in order to avoid damage to his truck. The damage he dealt to the tractors amounted to several thousand dollars.

In the second case, a 19-year-old young man was sentenced to several years in prison for burglary. He was incarcerated with men who were serving more severe sentences for crimes to ranged from rape to murder. During his time in prison, he was raped several times and had sought help from prison guards to no avail. His rapists would pick the lock to his cell and rape him at night. He had attempted to get a transfer, to be held in solitary, etc. One night, he received a threat of rape. He decided to escape prison to avoid being raped for a third time.

Many of my classmates argued the first case with the tractor was more understandable than the second case. Both involved burglary--the young man had stolen a car in his attempt to escape--but one involved rape while the other involved the remote possibility of a truck tipping over. They argued that the young man should have expected such treatment for his first burglary charge anyhow. But the fact is a jury rarely thinks about prison violence when they sentence a defendant. It is not beyond possibility that a court of law does not intend to cause rapes when they sentence criminals to prison time. It is also not beyond possibility that a prison's staff should work to prevent rape--not deny relief. It makes no sense to me a classmate would find a man who thinks stealing property to drag his truck out of the mud is more sympathetic than a man who thinks stealing property to avoid rape.

Who knows, perhaps there's something wrong with me.

11172009

11172009
"Bad Romance" - Lady Gaga

I feel so languid today. Sometimes I have to concede that I must not push myself too hard or else I will simply break. Today is going to be a laid back day full of chores and cleaning and probably a little bit of studying in the end. I've been very discontent with my life recently. I feel like my life is too stagnant--too... I don't know how to explain it. I don't see much to look forward to each day. I feel like I'm dying before I'm even old and that's no good. I've been thinking about the kind of life I really want to have. I have to go to Europe--or someplace with a great train system--where, when I feel too crowded and stagnant, I can just run away. I could just get on a train and go someplace for the weekend. Here. I can. I have done that. But I can't ever do it alone. I always have to have someone to stay with or hang out with. I can't just hop on a train and be around other people in the strange way that strangers do on a train together. I can't go and meet someone while drinking at a bar, alone. Who knows. I want to go someplace cold. I want to go someplace close to the sea. I want a neat house. I want to be totally absorbed in my work there and, at home, completely absorbed in books and tea and a warm fire. I want to eat tangerines. I want to write.

I want to try my best to create that life for myself now.

11172009

11162009

The sadness is just so immense. I had a nightmare while napping tonight about a man who donates blood to babies and then decides to withdraw that blood and kills the babies; I dreamed that Jonathan and Amanda come over to my house but I don't do anything to entertain them and they leave without saying a word; I dream that I go out to check the mail for packages and see Angelo staring at me hungrily; I dream that I try to drive from Blacksburg to New York so I can get to Urban Outfitters; I dream that my parents want to make me live in the guest room; I dream that Jonathan and I drink shots of gin together. And everything is so musty and dirty and disgusting. I'm so tired of shopping. I do it mechanically now and feel so disgusted with myself. But sometimes I wonder what kind of life do I want to have?

I want to have the kind of neat and clean life where I read all day and am well-dressed but not frivolous and--I don't know. I was making tea today and I saw the light hit the honey so beautifully but there was absolutely no one to see it except me. And I'm so alone. I'm so alone here. It's driving me crazy. I need the feeling that-- Who knows. I can't speak freely. How does Carl do it? He lives alone too.

I miss Bryan more and more everyday. Yesterday I dreamed I met his now girlfriend. It's so disgusting. I want him to get out of my head. I want-- Who knows. I just have to brave through it. I just have to get through the next two years or so and I'll be free of him. That's how it is with me and men--a couple of years will make good and I'll never reallyt hink of them again.

But when I remember Jared, I taste licorice. I--

Bryan will never be what Jared was to me. I loved Jared. I loved him completely--without gaps or hesitation. Bryan, I loved like an afterthought. Everyone made fun of him. I was too good for him. My brain works in such strange ways. I can't predict the feelings I feel and the thoughts I think. It's so ridiculous. I must keep my head on my shoulders. I must not go insane.

11162009

11152009

Your mind and your experience call to me
You have lived and your intelligence is sexy
I want to know what you got to say
I want to know what you got to say
I want to know what you got to say

I can tell you taste like the sky
'Cause you look like rain
You look like rain
You look like rain
You look like rain
You look like rain

You think like a whip on a horse's back
Stretched out to the limit you make it crack
Send that horse 'round and 'round the track
I want to know what you got to say
I want to know what you got to say
I want to know what you got to say

I can tell you taste like the sky
'Cause you look like rain
You look like rain
You look like rain
You look like rain
You look like rain

11152009

Today would have been my second anniversary with Bryan. But strangely, I don't feel sad about Bryan tonight. I feel sad for Michael Jordan--not the basketball player--the guy who committed suicide right around this time of year. He--he was into me. But I never gave him the time of day. We weren't in great touch or anything. He was just someone I happened upon once in a while. I--he would always show up around this time of year in my life. He--I guess. Bryan went to this date auction where I was being auctioned and that was the start of our relationship--kind of, I guess--and Michael was there and-- And then, later, he was there too and-- Michael committed suicide. Shot to the head. And I was just on Facebook with all those birthday reminders. And I wished Sam a happy birthday and I just remembered my last day of undergraduate, after Professor Bennett's class and I loved Professor Bennett's class and I was so sad that this was the end. The end. And I was sitting with Sam and he was studying for his final exam for some class on water and the sun was just hitting us both and I just--the sun was so beautiful on us and it was the end of that experience and I just remember him like that and he was meaningful to me in that way--no real way other than that way--and--

I wished Sam a happy birthday but it's so strange because I know I might never see Sam again for the rest of my life. It's like wishing a dead person a happy birthday. It's like-- It's like Michael--and, God, he used to say his name was Michael Jordan and no one would believe him and he'd pull out his ID to show everyone that it was his name and--

Michael Jordan's still on Facebook. He's dead now, but he's still on Facebook and I'll still get birthday notifications and--well--what's the difference between wishing a dead man a happy birthday and wishing someone who you might never see again a happy birthday? You'll never see them again. You might never even speak with them again. They're gone. Swept away by time. And I'll never get that back. I'll never get Michael back or Sam--with the light shining on his cheekbones just so and talking about water...and Professor Bennett's lectures...and Bryan...and everything, just everything.

I'll never get any of it back.

11152009

11142009

I did good. I did good. Oh God, I always have to say this to myself. I'm so damn depressive sometimes that I make myself sick. I shouldn't feel sorry for myself. I'm beautiful. Young. Well educated. Have money. And have friends. I did good. I did good. I should never have to say this to myself as if I haven't already heard of it before. I hate people who feel sorry for themselves. I don't want to hate myself. I want to love myself. People probably look at me all the time and envy my life. I'd be a sorry excuse for scum if I felt sorry for myself.

11142009

I feel so sad waking up. I'm not sure why. I feel alone and lonely. I feel melancholy. I felt like I shouldn't have left Carl's without holding onto him just for...some ridiculous reason. But I know I should have. I feel like I shouldn't have broken up with Bryan. But I also know I should have. I feel like--my emotions have no correlation with my thoughts sometimes. I wish I could control all my feelings with my thoughts. I'm working on it. I think there's hope. I don't think this is the end. I do think that everyone is this sad sometimes. I think that everyone is suffering. I just need to hold on.

11142009

11142009

Tonight I went to Carl's and watched Apocalypse Now. We watched the movie in our usual ways of interacting--at arm's length and with as little emotion and as much rock and roll as possible. Who were we kidding after all? We were done. I never opened up to him and he never opened up to me and we just gave it up halfway through with the understanding that that was that and now we're at the end. But, when I left, we hugged--for a long time--and he did this weird thing of drumming his fingers on my hips after I let go and there was that brief electricity between us and I could have kissed him but instead I smirked and almost shook my head and left.

I can't afford to get sucked into a romance again. I have to keep my distance. I have to--I don't know what I have to do. I have to keep level headed. I have to do work.

11132009

Sometimes I feel like I'm disconnected from everything else; I don't have any energy to do anything; I'm tired and bored and boring; that everyone is avoiding me; that no one likes me for some reason or other. Sometimes I feel like I'm not living life properly because I've never seen anyone manage their lives as shitty as I have. But, that's just an exaggeration. I'm really doing okay--not to best--but all right. I'm not a drug addict, I have a house, and I can pay my bills. I have friends, just not close friends at the moment, and I think I'm well liked. I'm tired because I have poor motivation but I'm not so poor in motivation that it'll kill me.

I think it's true when they say that happiness is a choice. I could choose to view myself in a negative light or I can really get my ass in gear. I've found that cinnamon and honey really stimulates my consciousness which suggests that I might be low on sugars when I'm tired--not because there's something actually wrong with me. I'm not sure why this is so, but I'm certainly going to utilize it for what it's worth.

I need to keep strong, keep genial, keep going. I am beautiful. I am smart. I am successful. I must keep going. I must keep it up. There is no reason whatsoever for me to dwell or mope. Many people have things far worse than myself and they don't dwell or mope. I want to say sometimes that it's because they have happiness but I kind of don't believe that. Let's say that no one is happy or that many highly successful and motivated people are not happy. That means not being happy is no excuse for not getting stuff done.

I don't want to be happy in life. Happiness always fades. But success--a legacy--a reputation--that never fades. It can be overturned by poor planning; it can be destroyed by a false step--but it doesn't just disappear for no apparent reason. It's not something that we stop seeing just because we have a mood swing. If I want permanence, if I want some kind of eternity--the kind of thing that love promises to be--then I should seek success instead. I should seek achievement instead. Love is fleeting. But achievements do not die so easily.

11132009
"Death Wish" - Nujabes

I got my life back on track last night, but there's just so much work to do. I'm afraid I won't be able to get it all done in time. Thoughts of Bryan continue to intrude on my concentration. I feel blue the first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. I won't be weak about it though. I won't be like Heather. Heartache takes a long time to get over, but I'm willing to wait. I'll never let him know what I'm feeling. I'll never show him that I miss him. I don't want to lose that way.

It's so difficult pining after a man after Heather. I don't want to be weak like she was--and she was so weak and annoying. I can't spend the rest of my days wishing for something to happen--I must spend my days working. "The busy bee has no time for sorrow." When I wake up from my work coma, I hope that all this sadness will be gone.

11122009

11122009

11122009
"Pq Entry Nofvj0224070" - Ulver

I miss Bryan. I sometimes fear he will be more successful than I am. I fear he will conquer me. I broke up with him because I thought he wasn't good enough for me--not as a person, he's much better than I am as a person--on mere candidate terms: intellect, social ability, etc. I broke up with him because he wasn't ever going to be that companion I sought. I was always going to be my caretaker. He was always going to be the person who did my dishes or did my laundry. We weren't ever going to be like Jean Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir. I want an equal. I don't want someone I tolerate.

But he is smart. He is very hard working. Yet, he's not smart in the way I am smart. He's smart in the way that learning is always a struggle, while I am smart in a way that thinking in and of itself is always a wonder. I like to think about the possibilities that have not yet been considered. I like to think about things in new ways. Words and concepts on a page jump out at me at night and transform into shapes and models. How does the world put itself together? I ask. While he is merely horrified of the world. He merely works within a paradigm while I work to create one of my own.

I need to be better than him. I need to justify my choice. I need a caretaker--this much is true--but I don't need him. I need to feel like I haven't been mistaken. Bryan is the kind of man every kind of woman wants. You can get him to do nearly anything in the name of love. But I wanted more. I deserve more. I deserve someone who is just as intelligent as I am. I deserve someone who is interested in reforging the world--not in any physical way so much as how people think about the world and their lives. I don't want to better the lives of children living under oppressive states. I want to change human thought. I want to change humanity by redefining it. Bryan just wants to save orphans or what have you. He wants to be a revolutionary. But revolutionaries are a dime a dozen.

Be like Freud and you won't even have to pick up a weapon to live forever in infamy. It's like being told a piece of crucial information. You can't ever go back to how it was before that information was released. And that's so much more important than an actual revolution. No one is killed, for one. And it's much more permanent.

I must be better. I must be fast. I must be strong. I must be sharp. Everyday I engage in a competition with myself. I must be the best.

11122009
"Porn Piece Or The Scars Of Cold Kisses" - Ulver

People always say that atheists have no hope. They always say that atheists are pessimistic--perhaps even nihilistic. But atheists do have hope. Perhaps, in many ways, more hope than the religious do. I suspect a Christian thinks about the future in terms of plans: God's plans, God's judgement, etc. The Christian doesn't know what will happen; but whatever is going to happen--it's been planned. But when the atheist looks at the future, he doesn't know what's going to happen. When the atheist looks at the universe, he sees an insufferable hugeness that contains infinite possibilities. He sees humankind on a lone rock among lifeless masses--evolving and sustaining itself in ways no one could have thought possible. When an atheist thinks of the world and humanity, he thinks about how, out of all the eras and species he could have been he was born in a time of relative prosperity in the ruling species of the era. An atheist thinks how unlikely his luck is. An atheist thinks how unlikely everything he knows is. And the atheist thinks about how huge the universe is with its infinite possibilities. And the atheist thinks about how the universe is wonderful--full of possibilities waiting to be discovered, possibilities no one could possibly predict. The future is waiting to be written and anything can happen.

When a Christian thinks about the future, he finds that it's already been written and decided. There are no possibilities--just ones God has already chosen.

Atheists have hope. It's the kind of hope cartoon characters get when they look under them after walking off a cliff and lingering for a couple of seconds before falling. But in that lingering few seconds, they find that they can defy gravity--that there are really no rules other than the ones that they write for themselves. It's a fleeting concept. It takes work to uphold. But if you can master this thing. This--hope. We can overcome nearly anything.

But first, we need to see that the solid ground upon which we depend is not really there at all. They are merely projections of a future that has yet to be decided.

11122009
"Evolution (Versao Portuense)" - The Cinematic Orchestra

I just want to fall in love again these days. It's difficult for me to explain. I want love; yet, I can't stand it. Bryan got back together with his ex-girlfriend. I'm still alone. I've had many admirers in the past two months. Boys fall to their knees for me--but my joints remain welded shut; nothing moves me; everything passes me by. Bryan got back together with his ex-girlfriend. MIckey said Bryan got back with her because he couldn't find any other woman to be with. Everything passes me by. I want to go home for the first time in a long time. I want to be with my mother, who I can't ignore, and my father, who I can't stop loving; I want to be with my sister, who's there for me in silence. Today I feel like I can only depend on family--that family is everything. I feel alone. But I know my family loves me. I know I am not lost as long as I have them. Bryan said he loved me. He told me he loved me a long time ago--almost four months now.

If we'd stayed together, the 15th would have been our two year anniversary.

But I have to stay strong. I have to make it alone. Staying with Bryan for so long as a test of my sanity. I used to be so sick that I couldn't be in a relationship. Bryan stabilized me. But, the other problem was that I'd always felt like nothing when I wasn't in a relationship--like a nobody--and sometimes I feel like this is my ultimate test to see if I'm better or not.

I want to be able to live alone. I want to be able to be self sufficient. I don't want to rely on anyone. I want to be strong. Independent. I want my mind to be a knife--my body a weapon. I want to change the world. I want to have purpose. So. I guess. So. When it turns out I have to live this life alone, I'll still have that. I'll still have purpose. So. I guess. So. When my parents die and my sister gets married and has her children. I guess I'll have a purpose.

I have to have a purpose. That's the only thing that makes life alone bearable--the idea that you have a purpose that transcends the vile matters of biology--something to keep you company when your social constructs tell you to seek affection--something to keep you going when all the meaningless human connections erode with time. I'm not anti-social. I'm very genial. The problem is, when you can get along with everyone, you realize how disposable everyone is.

I feel like everyone's just shorthand for something else they represent. I feel like I don't really need to talk to anyone. I feel like I'm talking through them. I know what they'll say. I'll know when to laugh.

I want to be more than that. I want to be more than even the exception to the rule. I want to be Napoleon. I want to be Rimbaud. I want to be Queen Elizabeth I. I want to be Baudelaire. I want to be Shakespeare. I want to be extraordinary and exquisite. I want to be more than the geniuses. After all, who among our real life geniuses will be recorded and remembered? You can recite the Bible backwards--so what? You can play a good game of chess--so what? I want more than just talent. I want more than just ability. I want power. I want to bludgeon the world so that it will never be the same after I leave. I don't have to be the smartest person. I don't have to be the most charming person. I don't have to be the most beautiful.

I just have to change the world.

I want to be Cleopatra. I want to be Rachilde. I want to be Catherine. I want to be the Bronte sisters. I want to be Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir. I want to be Cardozo. I want to be Brennan. I want to be Joan of Arc. I want to be Mulan. I want to be unforgettable. I want to be absolutely necessary. I want the world to yearn for me when I am gone.