Diluted pain

I was reading an old entry I wrote in my live journal... Sometimes over time we forget why we made choices we made and we begin to miss people. Somehow the hurt they caused finds a way of becoming diluted... When I read the sort of hurt he has caused me and I remember how it really felt and think of who I was and hate it... It's a realistic reminder of what I left and what i never want to be again...

Tuesday, July 13th, 2004

Subject: Your actions care for no one at all. Time: 12:06 pm.

A loveless sort of affection you long for, and an even colder one you give. Wanting all you want and giving nothing in return. I made you dinner and baked you a cake, your favorite kind. I waited on the couch counting every minute down from the time you said you were going to be home to every minute after. Spending your time in leisure with pills and escapes. Dead to the pain. Life never meant much to you anyway. Vulnerability only means humility, you have made me the most humiliated person ever."

empty words.

The events that follow the death of a loved one are usually filled with empty words... In some weird way I found comfort in the empty words that trickled in my ear today, the repetitive words that had the best intentions behind them...

Today I found myself feeling as if I needed to do something, but I had no idea what it was I needed to do. So I spent most of today sleeping...

Usually, when somethings got to give I sleep and usually after I wake up I feel better. Today when I woke up I was exhausted. And all I could feel was nothing. Completely numbed by the denial I faced. The loss I faced.

I had brief moments of grief... It was when I allowed my mind to wander. The thought of never hearing her voice again, the idea that my children's memory of her will fade with time, the realization she will never see me be anything more than I am right now because she will be gone. This is the hard part and the selfish part of losing someone you care about. Today I am being completely selfish, and you know what... That's OK.

The best thing we can do to honor the memory of someone we loved is live our lives with stamina and never stop until we are dirt in the ground. I will continue to live a fulfilled life striving for impact and purpose. My purpose being in God's plan for my life. In doing this I pray that time will heal my wounds and living will honor the lives of those who've passed.

1 Corinthians 13:1-8a and 13

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

I am sure some may have heard the second part of these verses. They are well known when referencing love in the bible, but no matter how repetitive it may sound, it is so true. I pray for this one day.

Feels good.

It feels so good to be home, in my room, surrounded by the things I love and find comfort in. I've been writing and listening to music for over two hours now. I wasn't sure if I would be able to call this place home again... I was only gone for two nights and three days, but two nights and three days can seem like an eternity if you are faced with the unknown.

Ethan and Juliana were accounted for over the weekend so I did not have that added stress. I drifted around during the daytime, worked a little and stayed at a friend's at night.

I am glad I stayed with him because his love for music is as great as mine and it was nice to be around it... He has good taste in movies which can be a pretty good distraction and I needed a healthy one. I got to read some of the things he wrote which is rad because I love to connect to people through writing, since writing is after all my favorite past time. He taught me a little on guitar, which makes me happy. And, he even let me ask questions during a movie we watched. All in all the company was good.

Life definitely throws curve balls. It's how you pull yourself out of the rain that makes the difference of how great you let the bad effect you. My friends were out Friday and Saturday night partying. I could have been with them... I got a late night text from someone I could have responded to, but all in all I knew I needed to keep a clear and steady mind. My focus needed to be pulling myself out of the rut I was in.

So I am home, I am safe and I am grateful.

Incredible Existence

Sunsets have come and gone
Yet I still see your eyes if I close mine tightly enough
The gleaming smile they project escape into my chest
My lungs fill up with you and still, I just smile
I haven't met a conversation I liked better than yours
The passion had to end passionately, for us there was no other way
I had to be broken before I could let go and well…
You knew that about me
With a fingertip grip I knew this moment would come
We were of the night, making the greatest escape
Stimulating emotions in me that had been consistently dormant
Our story is just bitter sweet
Amazing in existence

Neverless tapered, astringent end

Nightingale

The possibility is what kills me

I can't let go alone and letting go together would devour me

I'm dying to be alive

Lying next to your warmth I can hear the soothing sound of your voice

Each time we're together I ease into you a little more

For the first time, I didn't dance around the questions

I try to live in that moment everyday

When I close my eyes I see your eyes

When my body hits the mattress I envision the nights spent together

And as we descend into the soft bed sheets,

Being directed by feeling and thought alone,

I wonder if this will be the last time I will be here with you this way again

The sliver of hope numbs me through my torture

Silent conversations with myself

You get me through all the yesterdays

We become electric in the darkness

I can't stop and you wont stop

We need to need this for the both of us

With everyone telling me what to do and no one to love me

I escape into the thought of you

A functioning sleepless void

Never knowing what might happen and never knowing when it will end

Oh Nightingale the morning crept up too soon

By Krystle Lynn

Dusty Old Heart

This was the second poem of mine to get published. I wrote this about an old love interest who I had kept in touch with over the years. Every once in a while I'll get a letter from him, it makes me happy to hear how well he is doing. He showed me what is was to be comfortable in your own skin. I will always be thankful to him for that and many other things unspoken of...

There I stand enthralled in your essence
Pasted in your timing
Allowing myself the unveiled caution of sensitivity
You left me with only a memory of your voice
Once strong and filling only now faint and vague
As the days go I picture your smile and every curve of your lip
Weeks leading into months and even years fade along
I only remember the feeling it once gave
I can hardly breathe, this smothering reality has taken it's toll
Letters a distant fluency
The feeling captivating heart covered in dust
Swept away by silence now

by Krystle Lynn

The Loneliest girl

I wrote this years ago... It is the first thing of mine to ever get published...

The loneliest girl

Impaled with my own desire.
I'm stalking my ego with my fingertips.
The floor creaks under the weight of lust and illness lights my path.
The walls closing...
Closing tightly around my spirit as a silent whisper plots my demise.
Love devours its young
And solitude walks across my breath and into my soul.

by Krystle Lynn

Hard times for dreamers.

I get two types of responses when I tell people i am going to school for writing...

I get, "That's amazing, you are doing what you want to do!"

and I get...

"Well, what would you do with that? Why don't you go to school for business..."

the encouragement comes from people I don't know, and friends...

the discouragement comes from family, always.

I know my family wants to know I can take care of myself, but honestly I don't see how supporting me following my dreams and being supportive of what I really want in life is so bad. I get more support from strangers...

Empowerment

I am here to be empowered with knowledge. For those who thirst it let it be. Let us not surround ourselves by the weak minded who will keep us down, but let us fuel our minds and climb the ladder. -- ♥me

a love affair

I want a great love affair.
Like Émilie du Châtelet and Voltaire.
They cultivated their minds together.
I don't need a lifetime of romance, but a brief passionate love, even a summer's love is very attractive to me.
Lately I have felt overwhelmed by the knowledge surrounding me.
So many great books, so many great minds.
I thirst for knowledge and the companionship of a great thinker.
I have fallen in love with the idea of this and fallen out of anything indifferent from my being in love with this idea.


photo credit stephen kramer

"The Translator's Preface"

excerpt from
"The Translator's Preface"
by Émilie du Châtelet (1735)

The prejudice that excludes us women so universally from the sciences weighs heavily on me. It has always astonished me that there are great nations whose laws permit us to control their fate, but there is not a single place where we are brought up to think. This is one of the great contradictions of our times.

The theater is the only profession requiring some study and some cultivation of wit in which women are allowed to participate. At the same time, it is a profession that has been declared an improper one.

Just think for a moment. Why is it that for so many centuries not a single good tragedy, fine poem, valued story, beautiful painting, or good book on physics has been produced by the hand of a woman? Why do these creatures--whose understanding appears to be similar in every way to that of men--seem to be held back by an insurmountable force? Let someone give me a reason for it, if they can. I leave it to the naturalists to find a physical reason for it, but until they have found one, women have a right to speak out for their education.

I confess that if I were king, I would conduct the following experiment. I would correct this abuse that has cut short a full half of the human race. I would get women to participate in all the privileges of humanity, especially those of the mind.

It's as though women were born only to flirt, so they are given nothing but that activity to exercise their minds. The new education I propose would do all of humanity a great deal of good. Women would be better off for it, and men would gain a new source of competition.

All too often, the way we currently conduct our daily affairs weakens and narrows women's minds rather than improves them. With men and women as equal partners, such interactions would serve to extend everyone's knowledge.

I'm convinced that most women are either ignorant of their talents, or they cover them up. Everything I've experienced myself confirms this opinion. I've been lucky to know men of letters who have included me in their circle. I saw with extreme astonishment that they held me in high esteem. I then began to believe that I was a thinking creature.

quote

Do not fear death but rather the life unlived.
You do not have to live forever. You just have to live.

-- Author:"Tuck Everlasting" (movie)

no title needed

Last night marked an anniversary of one of the worst days of my life... The ten year anniversary.

I had a weird night. I realize more so tonight that I need to be influenced by my head and not the hopes of my heart.

I also realized that the past is called the past for a reason and it is important that the things of the past stay a thing of the past...

Mistakes made help individuals to grow and to learn... Why would anyone ever bring the mistakes of the past into who they are in the present?

Maybe they didn't get the full lesson the first time? hmm...

Sometimes I need to be shaken and yelled at to get the point... Why it takes all this to get my attention, I have no idea, but sometimes it does...

I am a firm believer of having the courage to walk away from the things that don't suit you or your life... I've walked away before, I know I can again.

Right now I am going to go to bed. I am going to wake up and live the day making choices suitable for my life. After all this is the one life I get...

still

reading "for one more day"... It's an easy read. Easy to relate to. The author writes in simplistic terms, still with the ability to make you think.

I've been finding my writing style. Usually when I write poems I convey an emotion in less words, but strong words... Without giving up the emotion too easily it makes the reader think. I like to do that.

But I think it is a true art form to express in simplistic terms just to get a point across... Some writers are so good that's all they need. i.e. Charles Buckowsky. I want to be a great writer one day. I want it to look seamless and effortless.

I think everyone is a writer in their own right. It's just about getting the silent conversations with yourself out onto paper. Life is about relating. That is a big part of why I write.

I find I am my happiest when I am reading, writing and listening to music. I've been listening to Belle and Sebastian a lot lately.

There was a point in time I was hesitant about being by myself. Some may have even called it neediness. I hated that expression, but to be honest with myself I was very needy. When I finally occupied myself with the things I loved I began to place high value on the time spent in my room with my music and books being... well... by myself.

I like myself better for it. I feel talking is over rated. When there isn't anything to say, there is no point in talking. Some may find this odd coming from me, because I've been known to talk a lot, but honestly I am pretty quiet. Take away the hustle of a place, take away appearance and position, and you just have me. Why talk unless you can improve the silence?

My oldest friend had visitors from out of state. They were staying in a cheap motel next to hooters and the 405 freeway. She asked me to meet up at their motel. So I did.

With the door open smoking like they wanted cancer I entered the room. There was two of them. Brothers. One loud and social. Probably more comfortable to be around for some people. This was the one my friend liked. The other quiet and a little odd, sort of even made you feel uncomfortable.

I am an observer. Even if it may seem like I talk a lot sometimes, there is a lot more going on in my head that just doesn't come out.

Anyway, I observed the one with the louder personality, I listened to his stories and watched how everyone else in the room was so impressed with his demeanor. This was good for his ego, because this is exactly what he wanted to do... impress people, get reactions.

Every once in a while his uncomfortably quiet brother would say something. I can't remember now the things he said, but every time he would speak it was something great and witty. Not because he was trying to be great or witty, but because he just was.

He was the overlooked type. I love those types because usually they quiet ones have the most to say... To me it isn't the quantity that comes out of the mouth, but more so the quality of what is said.

I like people best when they get quiet with life. Seems they find ways to improve the silence not add to the chaos.

for one more day

i randomly grabbed this book off the floor in my grandparent's room. I was doing yoga and decided to read while doing it. Turns out the books pretty good. I read 15 pages and haven't been able to put it down... I might just finish it off tonight.