she is currently over seven thousand feet above sea level, alone, and contemplative of choices made, and choices to come. the sierra nevada mountains are comforting, and they provide a beautiful escape from santa cruz, but they cannot serve to harbor an escape from the consequences of her actions. she had to quit her job because she was too weak to face her past, she had to leave santa cruz because her lungs weren't big enough to breathe, and soon she will have to leave the country because there is nowhere else to leave from. as she sits on her seven-thousand-feet-above-sea-level-perch she regrets that she had to leave her beloved behind to wallow in the confusion and clutter of her departure. she regrets that she is not strong enough to say "fuck-you" to a man she lived with for eight months. she regrets that she cries all the time, for her glasses now wish that they had come equipped with wipers to battle the constant barrage of tears. she wishes she had not made that phone call on that windy friday night, and she wishes she had not received that phone call about a brother sitting in jail somewhere in southern california. she wishes she was smarter in both the ways of an intellectual and a lover. she wishes she thought more and felt less. she wishes she could rationalize and not emote. she wishes she didn't bruise so easily and that her skin wasn't so transparent. she wishes for a lot of things, but all she can hope for is that she will remain loved, and will learn to be constant.