its too hard to talk about riding in the backseat, next to her, as keith drove fast and rebekah sang to her, screaming at the top of her lungs into a coke bottle microphone.

its too complicated.

she would look at me, i'll tell you, she would look at me and her eyes would be just there, blue and honest and searching mine and rebekah would start up a chorus and she would look away.

i would look outside, watching the trees give way to glimpses of buildings and cars passing us by, going in the other direction, and close my eyes.

my hair would be in my face, her hand on my leg, rubbing right above my knee, and there would be my heart.

she leaves tomorrow.

i spent the last two nights with her.

falling asleep on the floor in her living room, feeling the right side of me fall asleep as well, to the point of painful.

falling asleep next to her in my bed.

there are bits and pieces of this weekend, of this week, of this summer that flash in my head and skitter off into distances faster than i can grab a hold of and press into my flesh. but in some cases, its better that way.

that i can't quite hold onto the first time she told me she loved me or the last time i kissed her goodbye.

if i hold too tightly, press it too deeply, it'll hurt too much.

so i can't tell you, as much as i would like to, about this weekend.

about losing her.

i can tell you this: i'm fairly determined to get myself all straightened out.

to figure out where i'm going to be in a year.

to decide whether or not i'm heading to arizona.

i told her, last night, that things will work out, somehow. that if we're meant to be together, i will find my way there.

that if not, she'll find someone else, someone better than me, someone who will blow me out of the water.

she got angry. told me no, she doesn't see that happening, she doesn't want me saying that.

i dont know where we'll stand in a year.

i dont know anything much and im scared to make bold statements exclaiming my moving to arizona.

it might not happen. it might happen and be the best damn decision i've ever made.

it'll take a year, at least, to decide it.

but she'll be back before then.

in four months, she'll return.

and in four months, we'll get a better feeling on things.

and now i sleep.