2001-04-11 - 2:04 p.m.

The idea is that there is this girl who is the last of the faeries you might say -- she has an innate knowledge that she discovers which allows her to discover another world. So she lives in two worlds, this one we live in, and another beautiful, magical, mystical, spiritual world superimposed underneath this one. So the book would be about how she learns about the other world, and how she brings people from this world there with her, how she teaches them to find it on their own. And then before she moves to the other world permenantly, she writes a book in this one about what she has learned. The book would end, i guess, as she's travelling in the other world and discovers others of like minds who have made it to her world by taking her book to heart. An allagory for spiritual consciousness, if you will.

In order to write it I'm going to have to do alot of research first on the fae and on that world -- I don't know if I'd actually want it to be about the fae world per se, with actual faeries living there, but I want to research and know all I can about the myths and legends on how to reach it - I need to do alot of reading, starting with re-reading Mists of Avalon

Anyway, before I can even think about that idea I have to teach myself how to write - I have to get my sea legs on this one i've just started. The one I'm working on now -(I've only written 5 pages!) is about the story of some parts of my life, my friendship with larissa, some shit that went down that changed us and brought us out of our innocence and out of the south. I don't know if I would ever have the guts to publish it, and I don't know if it would even be an interesting story to anyone else. But I have to do this- I can't give up - I have to get this out of my system.

And its hard because so many memories and things are haunting me - things i had forgotten about, things I had wanted that I gave up on - Did I give up on them because they were impossible? Or because they were childish? Or because they depended on other people.

I am realizing more and more how much I have depended on others. Not just for love and sex (as in a relationship) but at a more fundamental level.

I've been thinking about things to talk to Beatrice about next week. So I sat down and made a list of my fears. And was surprised to find out:

I fear mundanity, mediocrity, monotony

I fear losing the color (the "Cuba") out of my life, becoming dull

I fear being nothing without Larissa in my life

Its not that I doubt her at all - I know that we'll be in each other's lives forever. What I realized about myself is how much I have depended on her for inspiration. And what I'm afraid of myself without her - She has given me inspiration, insight, feeling, she haunts me, she sends me dreams, I sometimes feel as though I live by thinking to myself What would Larissa do? And I bring passion and intensity and meaning into my life - why? To keep her interested in me? So she won't discover the secret of my inner dullness? To become more like her? Because I think she is everything I wish I could be? Sometimes the joy and dreams and intesnity and spark I have feel like a shell - They aren't fake, they are based in truth, but I feel that they are exaggerations and without her inside me, and without her outside me to appreciate me, and without her out there doing her own Larissa thing and thinking her own Larissa thoughts for me to relate to - that I would be empty.

This is all nutty talk, I know this. This is why I've decided therapy would be a good thing. Because I want to be the source of my own inspiration. And because I want to have an even closer relationship with Larissa - but the only way I can do that is to come to it as a whole person, as my essence of self without bullshit and without hidden dependencies.

I've got m work cut out for me.

In other news . . . I found an old letter from Ryan and it made me sad. In the letter he wrote:

" . . . .As for my ability to deal with the lack of Larissa in my life, I am surviving. Some das I am completely together and other days I fall to pieces. This is one of the hardest things I've ever done. I've never known love like that before. She was my first. Whenever I talk to her on the phone I attempt to remain calm like a great loss has been avoided, but on the inside I'm searching for a rock to anchor to. I finally sent my letter to Jim today. I was somewhat angry and quite drunk when I wrote the letter, but I primised myself I would mail it. I feel a small bit of confrontation between me and Jim is essential. I guess I'm rambling here. Sorry, I'm just trying to be as open as possible with ou. I've always wanted to get to know you. In the past Jim and Larissa hae usually done all the talking. I feel like you are kind of like me in that you listen far more than you speak. I would love to get the chance to know the Hillary within. The one that likes to write poetry and own items of the deceased. I'm looking forward to you coming to visit to me. I consider it an great honor to be able to call you a friend. Thank you for listeneing to me ramble and calling whenever you could. It has meant so much to me. You are a true fruend. Take good care of yourself and please never hesitate about calling me or asking of a favor. For if it is wihin my means to aquire it is yours.

Love,

Ryan.

P.S: Just to let you know my darkside is jealousy of Jim and his ability to get any woman he wants. I wish I had that kind of self-confidence."

I read it and felt so sad - I remembered how I felt the first time I readthis letter - it made me want to go and save him and bring him into "Our Circle" and that's what I thought I was doing by going to visit him. Reading this letter today reminded me of that, of "Our Circle" and of "Our Dream" and even as I'm typing this I'm looking down at the ring on my finger which is worn by FOUR of us, not three but all four. And I am further saddened to remember that he isn't in our lives at all. He hasn't talked to me since last September. He didn't return my messages when I called while I was in California, only 20 minutes away from him. He wrote in his letter that he wanted to get to know "the Hillary within" but he didn't. And I keep thinking that maybe if I try a little harder, try one more time I can bring him back to us. But I know that's not the case. He has become one of those people I "used to know" and I'm sad about it. If he did start a friendship with me again - it wouldn't be enough, we want too much out of him. I guess he's got to grow up on his own and come back into our lives when he's ready - or I need to accept that he may not come back.

I wonder if he's realized he's become what he set out to be. He's become all the things he wanted. He's in film school. He could get any woman he wants. Is this making him happy?