Insanity: Syllabification: in·san·it·y Noun.1) The state of being seriously mentally ill; madness. Example: she suffered from bouts of insanity.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

One month later.

Dear Little Brown Book,

I have been officially here for one month.

I bit down on my pen thinking over the past month and finding myself looking out over the great view I was afforded when I purchased my new home. This Little Brown Book was supposed to be a time of reflection for me. Something that I had used as my own form of psychology since I never returned to speak to the doctor dude. This little book was to be my sanity but I felt that it was losing the war. If someone were to ask me; what is the best way to really find yourself and then slowly find your life in a downward spiral into pure insanity, I would tell them to move to a place where you had no earthly way of communicating other than using ill-mannered hand gestures and you might find yourself quickly on that path.

It all seemed so simple. Just like Diane Lane who literally stumbled off a bus and landed on a property primed for the picking, I too found that buying a house was a simple ordeal. Other than the day and a half I wasted with some uppity Italian woman and her husband as they drove me from sight to sight. You would be surprised at the amount of houses for sale that might fit any young naive American's dream of living "Under the Tuscan Sun." However, every villa that was well within my price range seemed to be too ready for move in. Not at all what I had envisioned.

It wasn't until the sun was setting at the end of the day that we arrived to look at a quaint five bedroom villa in the small town of Castiglione d'Orcia that I would find myself feeling a little more in Diane's shoes. There was no vineyard but instead a couple hundred olive trees. Poor trees will probably be dead in a month. The home wasn't completely furnished so there was potential to make it my own and within a couple of days I was able to plop down four million to own a piece of my future.

One month later and I haven't changed one thing about this property other than adding another piece of furniture every few days. I managed to get the kitchen up and running but with my lack of culinary skills, it has remained unsullied except of course the overuse of the microwave and refrigerator. One bright spot was walking by a kitchen and not being haunted with the ghosts from boyfriend's past but if I did sit in the kitchen long enough, I would begin to imagine what life would be like if…he were here.

There is no land line set up in my new home and I found that keeping my cell phone charged and off was the best decision I could make. I didn't need calls from Michael telling me that I was insane when I was already questioning my sanity.

"Meow. Meow," I sang.

When I bought the property, one of the tenants that decided to stick around was a mangy yellow cat who I liked to call Freeloader. Being away from my old Fluffster was sad but like she sent a counterpart angel to be my only Italian friend, Freeloader would come to be the only form of communication most days.

The cat would cry and give me a menacing stare until I went and located some milk or food. In return when I finally did succumb to his demands, he would rub against my leg in appreciation and allow me some personal contact.

I tapped my pen on the page wondering how to mark the anniversary of my arrival in Italy with words. I could talk about the weather but I did that yesterday. I sighed. I could write about the beauty that this land beholds…but I write about that nearly every day. At this point John Steinbeck has nothing on me when it came to writing pages and pages on scenery.

I slowly glance over to my bedside table and see my cellphone sitting on top, quietly mocking me. It says, turn me on, Bella. Don't you want to see the bevy of texts and missed calls? Would any of them be from him? I don't know what would upset me more, him not agreeing to my final wish of being left alone or turning that phone on and seeing not a single message from him.

I turn my hands into fists thinking it would actually stop my moment of weakness but the insanity takes over and soon the Little Brown Book is thrown and my body collides with my bed as I reach out and grasp the technology that has been foreign to my hand for a month.

I start up the phone and breathe out slowly waiting for it to boot up. How many messages will I have? How many angry emails from my brother will load before my Google account states its memory is fried. I can feel my body shaking in anticipation as the first dings begin to alert me of text messages. The number on the icon keeps climbing and I tap on it to see whose name appears. Michael tops the list and then Alice and Rosalie, Angela…but none from him. Not a one.

I return to the home screen and open my voice message center and it is the same as the text message inbox. Same people and none from him. Disappointment stabs my heart and it is so much worse to see nothing than to see something. I don't even want to bother with emails. I flop my head down to my pillow and the phone slowly falls out of my hands onto the bed somewhere. It seems like a great time to take a nap.

Most of my days are filled with naps. With not much else to do out in the middle of nowhere with a small town of non-English speaking foreigners walking distance from me, I have found a sad little routine. My hand finds the remote to my television and I press it on without ever opening my eyes. I hit another button and once again, I fall asleep to Diane embracing her Tuscan Sun.

My sleep is met with more dreams of things I don't want to think about. I lay in bed while the last ten minutes of the movie are still playing and think over things that I probably should be writing in my Little Brown Book.

My life is now practically parallel to Diane's but instead of an owl, I have a cat. Instead of embracing the culture and getting laid by the locals, I embrace my bed and can't even find the decency for self-love. All I really need is a pregnant lesbian friend who gets left by her lesbian lover to come to Italy and commiserate with me all the live long days.

And then it occurs to me that I do have a pregnant friend but she's not a lesbian and I highly doubt Jasper has left her. My hand slowly finds my forgotten phone and without thinking, I hit a button on it that instantly makes me cringe. The ringing begins in my ear and I want to hang up but there's an answer before I have the good thought to do so.

"Where the fuck are you?"

I can't answer. I hear her voice and it seems like a miracle that I can actually understand the words that are coming out of her mouth when I have had so much trouble understanding words since I arrived here.

"Bella! I can hear you breathing! Answer me!"

Every statement is met with demand and I'm almost afraid to not answer her.

"Italy. I'm in Italy."

"I know you're in Italy but where in Italy? Your brother told me that much but he won't tell me anything else. You up and leave in the middle of the night, abandoning your cat and leaving us with no word on where you are going or when you are coming back. You don't answer our emails, calls, texts. Nothing for over a month."

"Technically not over a month. Just one month. One month ago, today," I corrected.

"What the hell happened? Does this have to do with my dumbass brother? You do know that he's not dating Vicky, right?"

"Vicky? So…she's still around?" I whispered sadly.

I hear Alice sigh into the phone.

"She's not that bad. If you knew…whatever. I'm not telling you a thing. You left us!"

I can almost hear the crossing of her arms and stomp of her swelled pregnant foot.

"I had to go. I needed to get away from everything. I needed to get away…."

"From Edward." She completed my thought.

Edward. Him. I hadn't said his name aloud for so long but every single day, it ran over and over through my head. Edward.

"I was happy, Alice. I was happy and then everything became so hard and then I wasn't happy and if I stayed in Los Angeles, I couldn't see how I could ever be happy again."

"Are you happy now?" She asked skeptically.

I didn't answer that. Was I happy? Thinking over my day and the entries in Little Brown Book, the answer may seem easy but it wasn't easy.

"I'm not in pain," I replied.

Alice didn't respond for a minute. The dead air was causing me to waste three dollars a minute but I'm sure she was having about as much trouble as I was with this conversation.

"So…are you allowed to tell me where you are? Are you ever coming back?"

"I bought a house in a small town called…" I always hated saying the name because with my inability to speak Italian or even sound like the words coming out of my mouth were Italian, I felt like a dumbass wherever I would try. "Castiglione d'Orcia. It's really beautiful here. Peaceful. Tranquil…"

"Boring!" She cut me off. "Yeah Bella, I know all the words for boring. You bought a house in boringsville but when are you coming back?"

Another three dollar a minute minute passed.

"I don't think I am."

And I was serious because as much as I was bored out of my mind and slowing losing any hope for sanity, I didn't want to go back.

"Of course you're not." Alice whispered. "You waited until I was in my third trimester to pull a stunt like this because you know I can't come over there and personally kick your ass."

"I think Sandra Oh was in her third trimester when she came to Italy," I said offhandedly.

"Who the fuck is Sandra Oh!"

"The Asian doctor from Grey's Anatomy. She was in this movie before she made it big on Greys. She was pregnant and flew to be by Diane's side when her lesbian lover left her," I explained.

Silence.

"Bella…are you losing it over there?"

"I think I was already losing it when I was over there. Hence the referral by your husband."

"So…you're really not coming back? Not for holidays or anything?"

I shook my head knowing she couldn't see me.

"I'll try to check my emails from now on."

"And answer your phone at the very least," She added.

"And answer my phone," I repeated.

I heard her sigh once again.

"Okay…well…good luck."

It seemed so final. Her good luck wish felt like she was really saying that we would never again meet or hear from one another again. It broke my heart. Now I truly was all alone.

"You too."

And then nothing.

I talked to Alice today. One month later and I finally talked to an English speaking person. I wish I could say it was a pleasant conversation but I was too distracted to make it one. The whole time all I really wanted was to ask about him.

I scratched out the word him.

Edward. That's right Bella, I believe the good ole doctor dude would say that the only way you will ever be able to move on is if you start by having the courage to say his name. Edward. Edward. Edward. Edward. Edward.

I close my eyes and picture Edward but I don't picture the last time I saw him, covered in pie. Instead I picture something that never happened. I picture him here, sitting on my veranda and slipping coffee. Something so normal but a perfect picture in my mind's eye.

I flip to the back of my book and try to erase the daydream. I find the list that I had begun to compose and jot down another item.

Have coffee with Edward.

I pause and then add,

In Italy

My bucket list. A gift from my bio dad. I had decided to forget about the list that I had found in the back of his book and instead I decided to start writing down things that I would never get to do but the intentions are always nice. So far I had only four things including my newest addition. The first one was from Christmas day when I wrote in my old journal that I wanted to experience snow on Christmas morning. It was something that actually could come true but the whole point of my list was not to be able to cross things off but to have the idea of hoping for them to come true. As old Red told us in Shawshank Redemption, "Hope is a good thing, maybe the best thing."

The other two items that I had on my list were things that I could do if I had the patience to try but I knew myself well enough to know that learning was never my strong suit. Learning to cook and learning Italian. Naturally, I knew the inevitability of learning some Italian if I really was going to live here for the rest of my life but I doubt I would ever become fluent. So far I had mastered; grazie, prego and buongiorno.

I put down my Little Brown Book and decide that it's done for the day. I have more pressing matters to worry about like what to eat today. With my lack of skills in the kitchen, all of my meals have been purchased in town and then leftovers a plenty suffice in my refrigerator until I use the other appliance in my new kitchen, the microwave. If you can believe it, this house didn't even have a microwave until my trashy processed-loving American self came to town.

Unfortunately, my fridge is sad and empty so it means another fun and crazy trip to town. So far, I had found a small pizzeria that I have come to love. The pizza in Italy is nothing like the pizza's in the United States. It was one of my first culture shocks when I started out.

I also have a deli that I frequent to get some standards and there's a café that has become my personal local watering hole. Mostly, I hate going into town because I feel like I have this giant sign on my forehead that states that I'm an American coming to take over your land; because that's what Americans do, right? Man, Diane sure had that down.

The looks start the minute I pass over some imaginary line that divides my estate which sits on a small hill and the small town which resides below. I can see Italian women looking me up and down with disappointment. Children usually have a curious look upon their face probably wondering why the pale one has come down from the mountain today. And I'm not so sure if it's a good thing or bad but the men seem to be the only helpful ones around.

I sit down at my café and order a coffee before pretending to engross myself in a magazine that I bring. I found that it makes everyone feel better if they can stare at me without me staring right back at them. A magazine has become useful but with the small town not being able to obtain English speaking magazines, I usually just find myself looking at the pictures.

I can feel the sun and have hope that perhaps summer is closer than I believe. It has been chilly here the past few weeks and I would love the ability to wear dresses once again. It would give me a reason to break out the razor and go to town on my legs whose stubble has stopped bothering me lately.

And this is my life now. Come to town. Eat. Sleep and journal. It begins to beg the question; would anyone care if I was alive tomorrow? No, silly stupid Bella! You shunned all the people who care about you and now you are exiling yourself to live out your life with a mangy freeloading cat.

The End.

Day thirty-five.

Mangy cat is becoming bold and now lays on my bed even though I have pushed him off several times so today I set out to give Freeloader a bath. If the damn cat is going to sit on my bed, he better be clean. The experience of washing a cat is something that I don't think I will venture to do again. It was horrible hearing the screams come from such a small animal as if it believed I would drown the thing. Somehow we managed and now Freeloader is clean and my arms have the scratches to bare proof of the act. I poor some alcohol to clean out the scratches and for a moment I can't help but think that maybe I should have downed the sucker but I can't. I know if I do, then I truly will be all alone.

…

What else.

…

The weather is warming up nicely and I can see the sun is staying up longer in the sky. Somehow the olive trees have not completely died off yet and I'm surprised by this. I should walk among them and see how it is possible to live when no one is there to care for you or love you.

Learn from the olive trees, Bella. They are your Yoda.

My phone vibrates again and I know I should just turn it off but I can't seem to. I told Alice I would answer but so far I have not held up my end of that promise. I just can't. I know that if I do, eventually she will talk me into coming back and I just can't. Am I miserable? Any person reading over my journal entries might think I was or at the very least, insane but I think of how miserable I would be if I went back. I would be there when Alice finally let it slip one day that Edward was engaged. Then she would tell me of the wedding and the last nail in the coffin would be seeing pictures of her newest niece or nephew. I can't live through that.

It should have been me!

In Italy, Edward is just an idea. A dream. In my mind he is happily single and pining for me. I imagine his voice and it tells me everything I want to hear. I love you! There is no one else for me, Bella. The fantasies take up entirely too much of my day but they're nice to have. Sad to say but just imagining him saying my name is enough to keep me satisfied.

Once again I throw the book back down on my bed and Freeloader, all freshly washed gives me an evil eye that I disturbed his sleep. Well, it's nice to have at least one male in my bed. I hiss at the cat still remembering my battle wounds before going down to my kitchen. The fridge is once again bare and I know I shouldn't have put off going to the market.

The market is fascinating to me. It has only three aisles and all the packaging is vastly different than how we package things in America. So far, I have ventured to try some new things and haven't had a bad choice hurt my taste buds yet. However, I can't go hog wild when buying because it will be me climbing up my hill with grocery bags in my arms and I'm not that strong to begin with, hence the reason I have to go so often.

With my environmentally conscience reusable bags I head out once more to the market. The walk to the market, I gestimate is about a half mile. It was an unfortunate coincidence when two weeks ago it was raining Freeloaders and dogs that I had no choice but to go to the market. It was either that or starve. To say I looked like something the cat dragged in was an understatement but after four straight days of rain, my options were limited.

Today, was a perfect day for a walk. My sun was shining and there was only a light breeze to contend with. I nearly made it down the hill when my mind picked up another fantasy and I ran with it.

"Bella."

"Bella."

Just hearing my name did it for me.

"Bella."

"Bella."

I could imagine Edward calling out to me like he was trying to get my attention but I was too busy trying to figure out who was responsible for sabotaging the latest group of contestants on Project Runway. How I missed Project Runway.

"Bella."

One fantasy at a time there, Bella. No time for Tim Gunn, get back to Edward.

I felt a sharp tug on my arm and the fantasy has disappeared. I want to scream. Someone was attacking me. I raise my hand to fight back but my imagination has completely outdone itself or worse yet, I truly am insane.

He's here.

He's here.

My mouth is opened but there are no words.

"Didn't you hear me calling your name?"

I feel my head slowly shaking and my eyes blinking constantly trying to discern what is before me.

"Edward?"

AN: sorry for the long time between posts. Sometimes you have it and sometimes you don't. Surprisingly when i finally did sit down to write this chapter, it came quite easily. Anyway, hope you enjoy it! Thank you for taking the time to read and review!

Disclaimer: Story is mine, characters belong to Stephanie Meyer.