I rolled over in bed this morning, woken by the sun in my eyes, and the wind gently vibrating the condo tower. I remembered where I was--Myrtle Beach, what day it was--my little sister's birthday, what I had to do--11:00 hair appointment, and what happened last night. Last night I made new friends, and became a little bit closer to accepting my independent lifestyle. After reading about 100 pages in a book titled, originally, "Letting Go," I'm realizing my hopelessness at the cost of a touch of hysteria. In the daylight I'm fine with who I am, who I'm with, and what I'm doing. But certainly by nightfall, when I'm alone, I begin to flutter with nausea and heartache all over again. This is supposed to happen, and it's only chemicals, I keep reminding myself. It's not Ben that I miss, I'm realizing. It's the high of feeling loved that I miss. I miss hearing my phone play "Time to Pretend" and melodically answering to his voice. Now the song makes my throat tense up, and a bit of panic courses through my veins. I changed my ring tone last night.

As for the band we're both in... well... 

I swore I was done. I made that decision final two days ago. But I've been thinking rationally since, and I'm willing to take a three month break, and then try it again. Now to tell the band...

Hopefully it's fine with them, but I know it's no at all likely. Last time something like this happened, I felt like the guitarist would slit my throat. Wish me luck this time...

Love and patience,

Carrie Anne.