I have come to realize that when people say they miss a loved one and they say it is like a part of themselves is missing, that a part of themselves is exactly what they are missing.

I have said for a very long time now that I am not sure it is possible for anyone to ever truly know someone completely. Each person in someone's life bring out something different in them. Friends are different than very close friends who are different than lovers who are different from family. A person is not fake for being two seemingly completely different people around different friends. One shares common interests with one friend that they do not share with another. One has memories with one friend that they do not have with another. One friendship has a connection completely different than that of another. Each time one is around a different friend, there is something different about that person.

When at one time someone was a staple of your life, a constant, your closest friend, your husband, your wife, your muse, your mother, your father, the traits they bring out in you are the strongest wherever you are. When that person is gone, the thing about them that connected you to that part of yourself is gone. You forget how to reach it. For some people, when a loved one dies they forget how to feel joy. Their happiness died with that person. They say they feel like a piece of them died when their loved one died. It is not an exaggeration. The piece of them that this love one showed them, their deep connection with this person, has died. A piece of them is seemingly gone forever. Unless they can reach that part of themselves in the wake of the absence of the person who brought it to the forefront in the first place, a part of them has died with their loved one. A part of them is lost with the loss of that friendship.

My relationships with people are inherently intense, both romantic and platonic. Perhaps this perception is stained by my experience with my dear friends and loved ones. I genuinely love multiple people in my life. Most of whom I rarely speak to and see even less. I miss each and every one of them. I miss the day to day friendship I had. I miss the pieces of me they brought out in the time we spent together. I miss their influence in my life. I miss their touch. I miss their support. I miss their unique sense of humor. I miss their art. I miss knowing them better than anyone else at that time. I miss giving them a piece of myself. I miss sharing with them. I miss holding their hand. I miss lying in their bed. I miss sitting in their car. I miss eating lunch with them every day. I miss them teaching me. I miss teaching them. I miss being lost in them. I miss holding them when they cry. I miss them holding me when I cry. I miss sharing music with them. I miss sitting in silence with them. I miss listening to them talk non-stop for 45 minutes. I miss talking to them. I miss the unique way we interacted. I miss the things about us that only we ever understood. I miss knowing when I saw a glimpse of their soul. I miss them.

Sometimes I miss these people so much it hurts. Sometimes I miss these people so much it is like a death. Sometimes I miss these people so much, that I feel a pain where the piece of me that fit so well with them no longer is. Sometimes I miss those parts of myself so much that I desperately want these people back in my life. Sometimes, I'm not sure what I miss more, the people, or their influence on me. Sometimes, I think it is one in the same. My perception of the person I'm missing is based on their influence on me. Sometimes I miss a friend too much. Sometimes, the thoughts of friends that I cannot seem to reconnect with take over my entire mind.

My relationships are inherently intense. I am convinced that no one person in my life could ever understand my relationship with another person in my life completely. Only me and that person know what it means. Only me and that person feel our connection. I miss these people and feel guilty for it. Some more than others.

"Intimacy" "intimate" In all of my pondering of those words, I've yet to look at the dictionary for the "official" deffinition. I've simply looked to my own understandings, feelings, and meanings.

Thom did a lot for my veiw of the word. "Intimate" is often used in a sexual content. I now dissagree with that. "Intimate not erotic" was a phrase that defined my boundries, and who I was, and to a large extent still am. I, then, defined the expeirence as "Intimate" but did not define the word. It was more than just a human interaction, vunerable, and close - but not sexual. Though some would dissagree, I was there, it was indeed "intimate, not erotic."

The word from on was just a feeling, and had no defining description. no concrete meaning. More recently a comment, from a person close to me, was made about "intimacy." After neglecting the word, it was suddenly put back in the forefront of my contemplative mind. This time I have a need for a definition. More than a feeling. Now I am needing to define the word, not just associate it with an expeirence or feeling.

I realize now that a "romantic " relationship is far from the neccisarry for "intimacy" to be attained, though it may be strongest (or cleatest) in those circumstances. "Intimacy" to is a leven of closemess, a certain vunerability, trust, unexplainable chemistry, and inherent understanding - yet differing from "love."

"Intimacy" can accure in friendships. It is probably possible to have that sort of moment witha person barely known, under the right circumstances. Within a pre-existing friendship/relationship "intimacy" could occure at any time, any circumstances. It is likely, even, that two persons could co-exist in a constant state of "intimacy."

It is important to understand that "intimcacy" can occur in varying "levels." It is always the same thing, not a different "typre," but a "degree" or "level." People refer to different "types" of "love," which I do agree with, but "Intimacy" is not so malable, only more or less present.

I have yet to entirely "solidify" my definition or understanding of hthe word, of many words. I am more satisfied with my understanding now, though, than I was even a week ago. One thing I will always know for sure is this: "Intimacy" is beautiful.

Two new poems. They're cool. Kind of. They don't really matter. I just wanted a new journal entry.

I've done a couple of things.

I listened to a friend of mine play music, I felt like I was looking at his soul. I was inspired. I wrote about it, and then I drew something, that I won't bother trying to explain.

I haven't decided if I'll share either here. but I just figured. . . I should say I did stuff


Oh, I also drew a person from behind, sans the head, because well, the back was all I cared about. I'll probably scan that and put it up when next I go to my mother's.

Oh, and Josh, i'm starting to feel focused again, so I should get that recording done for you soon. Especially now since I have my home computer up and running.

oh that's what else I did - I installed a hard drive today. I win.

I don't feel like I am. I feel like I'm failing myself.

I feel like that part of me is slipping from my grasp and dying, the only problem is. . . it's all I have.