In the depths of my own...bed.

america.

land of the free. home of the

shut up.

portland, or. usa. whoopdee doo. I wonder if even writing this shit down makes me feel any better anymore. i suppose i am supposed to talk about my experience in israel…but i don’t know where to start for you.

on hi-aid-us

I had a dream where animals and people were stuck in the bottom of a swimming people and no one noticed. Decrepit goats, bears, and people. Mostly young Spanish boys. My brother and I were just swimming there, and when we swam to the bottom we discovered them. Why was everyone ignoring it? There was an evil lord that was watching them to make sure they didn’t get out but no one ever tried so he wasn’t really paying attention.we drained the pool and rescued them. I woke up when I rescued the bear who then turned into. a blind man. He cried when he reached out side. So did it.

Israel.

Month 4.

Still haven’t told you anything. Not that anyone is reading this anyway.

Sometimes when I blog I just really don’t know how to begin. Or how to form words to describe my experiences.

Israel is intense. This is what I keep saying when people ask me how my time is here.

I struggle with the thought of staying or going. I know I need to visit home at least. I’ve been really homesick recently, and my time here is near an end. I wonder if I should return and do another semester of dance, or am I just wasting my time on a dream that will probably never come true.

The thing about dance is that it’s about the process and the work. Every dancer wants to be in a company. Sorry, every dancer and her MOTHER. obtaining a professional career in dance is like seeing a shooting star in the sky. So, I have to keep reminding myself it’s about the process and the struggle. Love the struggle. God knows I fucking struggle in every aspect. My brain is tortured.

I can’t stop biting my nails. It’s been really bothering me and others lately. People keep smacking my fingers out of my mouth. I don’t even realize I am doing it.

I’m seeing someone here and it’s going too fast. How do you rewind?

I realized how alone I want to be. And need to be.

I also realized how manic I am. And how no one understands. I realized I don’t have good friends.

I never thought I would miss America.

I keep thinking about how I need to become a doctor to survive and also help my family from dying. Or at least have money to help then resurrect from the hell they have created and call home.

Maybe it’s my age but I can’t believe how sure I can be of who I am as a person, and how truly lost I am in life.

Completely. Utterly. Lost.

E M O T I O N

shut it off. I hate it. I don’t want it. I always say how id rather feel pain then nothing at all. But I wish everything - every small movement we make - didn’t hit my soul personally. I wish I didn’t over analyze everything. I wish I wasn’t fucked up. I wish I didn’t drink so much. I wish I was a beautiful dancer, that I could love myself more. I wish all the weeees didn’t hide so many cries.