I remember that night after the bike ride I was on such a high that I stayed at the internet cafe until it closed at midnight. Then I drove around the freeways belting Puget Sound listening to music, the steering wheel of my G-ma's car shaking so severely I thought it was like re-entering the atmosphere.

I can't remember much that happened between then and now. Dave arrived on the 9th and since then we've been incredibly busy and not sleeping enough. Went to Eric and Suzie's wedding on the 11th. Saw Last Days of Disco afterward. Loved that movie, love all the movies by that guy - whatever his name is. Yesterday we drove down to Portland to see Tom. The rental car is really great, though bland looking. Just a white Nissan Sentra sedan, but it drives better than any other car I've driven this trip: no tired fuel pump, none of that wobbly stuff in the wheels, and the speakers don't crackle.

But mostly the trip is winding down a bit. The end is drawing near (two weeks) and I am unable to picture myself boarding a plane again. I absolutely do not want to do this. My chest sinks and aches when I think about going back. I guess it's one of those times in life when I have to do this thing I think I cannot do and I have to just let it carry me away in its momentum, my mind turned off - checked at the door. Oh god, I don't want to do that. You know, that's what I did to get to Korea in the first place. I remember having that same conversation with myself. I had recently met a woman who married young, saying that she had just not let herself think about what she had gotten into and in the end she was so glad she'd gone ahead and done it. I thought then that maybe that's what I needed to do to get me to Korea. I'm always thinking too much, always questioning my choices, always unable to make a firm decision or committment. Seemed better to just not think for once and spare myself that agony at least. Other agonies took its place, however.

Yesterday, in Portland, I was at the sorry excuse for an internet cafe at Powell's Technical Bookstore reading journals. Been awhile; feel like I've lost touch with folks. Read a really powerful entry that I should have the courage to write. The author and I are living the same life right now, only mine is stuffed so deep inside, hidden from all those around me. Swelling and gnawing away at me malignantly. It hurts. I'm at some kind of major crossroad. It is so clearly marked and I know the experiences of the last few weeks have given me knowledge I'm supposed to use to do something, to make a change. Change is the one thing I can't initiate, the one thing I don't ride well. Maybe the window will close, maybe I won't have the courage to live for myself. I'm a mess right now. Family and friends I meet ask me questions and I tell lies.

And I feel so afraid all the time. Afraid I won't be strong enough. Afraid of being alone. It supports and strengthens other irrational things and I find myself unable to imagine going to the airport without vomiting.