I hate doing it this way. I feel like I’m cheapening a journal by writing it on a computer. Call me a traditionalist. I have dozens of blank journals and cool pens with flowing ink and wonderful colors, but there’s a problem with those. I type faster than I write. I’m sure I’ll carry my marble green composition book around with me in school this semester for rambles I’ll later translate onto disk. Any disks I accumulate will be saved well, for family to read when I die. This is the first entry of that, I suppose. Assuming that when I die, this file format can still be read. Another reason to "write." Ah, well. Maybe I’ll print each page out and put it in a binder. Then tuck the disk away somewhere safe. My thoughts are mostly private, especially from those I love, but there’s so much I want them to know about me that I can’t say aloud. Maybe when/if they read this, they’ll find the answers to puzzling behavior they didn’t find before. One day I’ll also copy old journal entries and put them in somewhere. For now, I wish to deal with the present.

Tony left today. Every time we separate, I ask myself why I put myself through this pain. I’ve finally discovered the truth: its the lesser of two evils. Being seperated from him but knowing that he’s out there, somewhere, and loving me as much as I love him does hurt, but not as much as it would hurt to lose him entirely. It sounds cheesy and cliche, but it’s quite true. I’ve spent most of today trying to keep my thoughts away from him - I’ve read a whole huge book, done some cross stitch, ate a hell of a lot, I’m starting this journal again . . . but I always fall back on him. His plane won’t land for another hour - I wonder if he’s getting some sleep. He needs some sleep, he got none last night. He’s probably driving home now. Now he’s having a great dinner with his family. And so on and so on and so on. I normally try not to think like this, but I believe now that its necessary. I can’t jump into my life like this summer never happened. I have to wallow in my own slight depression for a few days, then slowly I’ll have the strength to continue on my own.

It was a beautiful summer. I didn’t cry when he left, but I nearly cry every time I look back on the summer. My favorite thing of all was just laying together under the covers. Snuggled up together and locked together like puzzle pieces. It was so warm and content and right. Now I have to get used to sleeping alone again.

We did such cool things. We went to see Les Mis in the city - by ourselves! My first trip into the city without a grownup, and Tony’s second visit, period. We wandered the city and had dinner at Ben’s, where we spent thirty bucks on soup and some meat. I still have my playbills from that show. But it was still the simple things that made the summer so sure. Quabbling over stupid things like what movie to rent that night. Only a few major fights - once over the fact that I didn’t believe he was looking for a job to the best of his ability, and once over my complete disapproval of his lock-picking crap. I never understood the desire to walk out of a fight before that night in the playground. But I’ve discovered that if I walk out of a fight, I walk out of the person’s life entirely. Their choice, not mine. But it would have been harder to walk away and start the fight again later instead of just staying and finishing it.

I’m not sure how well I’ll take to being alone again. I know after he called tonight I immediately called Resnick because the house was too goddamned quiet. I don’t like anyone else’s company, and I’m sure as hell dissatisfied with my own. Dad says I’ll feel better when I get back to school and working, so my time will be relatively taken up. I’m also determined to write for an hour a day. Here’s hoping I actually can. I was also determined to keep up my old journal - both of them.

Tony left a shirt here, on the floor of my bedroom. Right now, I plan on sleeping with it. It smells like him. I can’t be held by him, but hopefully the vague scent of him while I sleep will keep me from waking up a lot. I don’t want to go to sleep, though. I’ve been getting through this day all right, but the bed will be so lonely. I tried to sleep earlier, but it was a useless venture. I ended up trying to write in my little handwritten journal before giving up and coming back here. (Besides, this saves paper). It’s almost 1am, and I’m not tired. Something else to blame on this summer - just this past week I’ve started going to bed at 3am and waking up around 1pm. Which means I start to "wake up" around 10pm.

Oh, something to keep an eye on before I sign off tonight: I might be getting into stocks. Like, the stock market. My grandparents made it seem interesting and its not as expensive as I thought, so I’m gonna check out some stuff as soon as we get the modem back.

I have a lot more to talk about about Tony, but I’m afraid I don’t feel like thinking about it right now. I’m going to lay in bed until I fall asleep, period.

Amanda Weiss, signing off.