Staring up at the ceiling and there's a red balloon above me. It reminds me of the odd one out against the white paint, its ribbon hanging down.

It's not that I gave it all up. It's more something that I lost. Something that I lost...

I never meant to lose the feeling that moves the people that never dies. I never meant to fall in love. I never meant to feel that it was all wrong or that I was losing something so precious to so many but that left me empty in spite of all of it.

When I woke up yesterday morning with the clasp of my chai broken and the little Life strewn somewhere on the floor, the first thing that flashed through my mind was "This is the last year I have to live." It's not really a good omen, the chai falling off on the first day of the New Year. I tried to pray. I tried to get back into that rhythm. I tried to hold onto it. But I couldn't. And I can't. And even though I said "I don't know" and continue to be indecisive when someone asks me "What makes you happy?" I knew the answer was "You, you, you."

It's not the last year of my life, I hope. I can't really say that it's not because who knows what the year will bring? I do know that last year was the last year that I was Jewish. And being a Jew and being Jewish are two different things for me now. I'll always be a Jew. I can't change that. But losing Judaism means losing a lot more than that. It means losing my family. It means losing everything I was brought up to be, all the expectation. It means being the greatest disappointment and the greatest object of scorn to some of the most important people in my entire life.

Today is Rosh Hashanah and I didn't go to shul and pound on my heart or listen to the Torah being read or to the shofar blow. I walked miles out of the way and went to a Quaker meeting and I couldn't help but cry because I know I died to my father.

I know they won't put any stones on my grave because there'll be no grave. It will be as if I never existed.

So I lied when James asked me if I was ok and said "Yeah," and I lied again when he asked me if I was sure. Then I walked up to my room and held myself and cried and cried and cried because I'm going to take what makes me happy. Even if it means giving up everything else. Even if it means breaking everyone else's heart. Even if it means going in a completely new direction where there is no direction I can sense, but somehow I know is right.

They love the principle more than they love me. Which defeats the purpose of the principle itself. I'll be a locked up memory they'll pretend not to have, growing dusty on a shelf they hide in the back of their minds. For this, I will not say S'lach li, forgive me. For this, I will not pound on my heart. But I will say this:

L'shana tova, v'm'tuka.
Have a sweet and good new year.