Mark me up in this theater called life.

I haven’t met a blank page in a while. It’s intimidating. Cliché enough, I have no reason not to write and every reason to write. Here goes going.

Fuck you. Two incredibly charged words. But really, I’m living and breathing everything I want to fuck about you. I’m really anxious. I want to tear out the fantastic inside me and vomit it all over this page, but it’s just lingering, itching, I feel it and just can’t. I want it to flow, I want to create something I feel good about, something I obsess over and store away unfinished only to look at months, or even years later only to re-perfect it and realize how much I’ve grown in my writing between that time. I guess that’s one of the thrills about it, markers from one time to the next, details unspecific, but feelings charged.

“Let me listen to me and not to them.”

- Gertrude Stein

half way point

We've reached the half way point of this year and I can hardly believe it. Was it really six months ago that my grandma passed? And has it really been six months since my heart first felt captivated by him? It all didn't work out how we had hoped and wanted, but even so, I haven't stopped missing her or him. Through distance, other relationships, anger, pain, humiliation... My heart deeply aches for him still. I know that things go wrong so that I can appreciate them when they are right and I also know that good things fall apart so that better things can fall together. I'm not sure how ready I am for him, but I am ready for things to start falling together...

Full Circle

I'm incredibly grateful for my existence. I feel like such a hippie about life right now. I know not everyone sees through "rose colored glasses" like I do, but even that indifference makes life more beautiful to me. "We" will always see by our own definition and our interpretations are strictly based off of our own perceptions. It can all be rough and tumble, but when it's lovely the rough and tumble falls from the limelight. This is exactly how I find my way back to myself. And you know what? Myself isn't that bad of a place.

Dear Nothing

I dial your number... even though I know it's gone. And I send you these messages, unto cyber nothing, knowing you'll never see them. The worst of all is the old voicemails, from you, that I listen to... knowing you aren't a part of my life anymore. I know if I could talk to you I'd reach you, but I think you were afraid of that. I miss you. I miss us.

Yours
<3

This was killing me

I'm getting sick again. I feel it. My insides hurt, my body aches, I have no energy... And most of all I can't digest properly. FUCK! If I am supposed to go I want God to just take me now. I do not want to be dragged through this, again. I can't. This is insane. I am so upset nothing makes sense, including my thoughts. If anyone out there is reading this, sorry for that. I'm not sure anyone even looks at this. It's fine by me if not. I need a vice, but all I want to do is stay inside, listen to music, read, write... That's it. I need to keep human interaction minimal. What's the point of making a connection just to inevitably say goodbye? Whether I die in a year or fifty it all ends either way. Right now my feelings could be completely erotic, but I don't care. I feel like being extremely reactive, screaming, going out and acting repulsive... I want to do something, but I'm not going to. I'm twenty three years old. I'm too young to die. The curtains can't close... We're not even in intermission yet... This cannot be the final act.

Why as humans are we intrigued by pain? When we get a bruise we touch it to see how it feels knowing it hurts. When we are little and have a lose tooth we wiggle it around and try to get it to come out, even if it isn't ready, and this hurts, but we do it anyway. Why as adults do we remind ourselves of things we've lost by reminiscing knowing it hurts when we remind ourselves? I have no idea why we do this. I need to stop doing this to myself. I know it hurts why do I need to remind myself? This is brutal.

Progression is key.
For the first time in two weeks I was able to listen to old music and not feel sad.
It made me smile in fact.
There's hope!
So yes, looking back I miss it... I miss him and everything he entailed.
But you know what?
I'm going to be OK!
I think that life is a series of moments...
I am grateful for the moments I was able to have with him, share with him...
I'm not sure if my soul will ever connect to anyone else's the way it did to his, but all I can do at this point is move forward.
So I am moving forward.
Does this mean moving on?
Unfortunately, for me anyway, my heart says no...
But the good news is I am better than I was two weeks ago.
Time cushions the wounds.

It all ends one way or an other.

Every relationship ends. There are many ways in which it can... It can be purely circumstantial, it can be because one or both of the people involved did something that was too great to overcome and sometimes it can even be because someone dies... Either way every relationship ends.

In my opinion, truly believing what I just said, if every relationship ends why waste time on worrying about "will it end?" Worrying doesn't change circumstances. Worrying just makes you feel bad. I have no way of knowing what tomorrow will bring, but I have control over what I am doing in the present. I want to live. I do not live for yesterday or for tomorrow. I live for today. If I tried to reside in yesterday or make all my decisions of today based on tomorrow when I don't even know what tomorrow will bring than I wouldn't be living at all. I'd be merely floating around in a limbo state of mind. I'd be stuck.

In certain moments I wish I could stick him in my head to fully grasp my ideas. So he may truly understand my reasoning. I want this under the assumption if he really understands he would feel the same way too. It is so hard for me to watch someone I care so much about willingly give up something they wanted because they are overwhelmed with fear; fear of hurting mainly.

We will not get anything we want if we do not peruse it with full speed. It makes me mad also. I am mad at the person who tainted their ideas and the person who crumbled their trust and ability to see clearly with their heart. Because of this person I am fighting a battle. A battle that I am not sure I will ever win, but something in me won't let go. I can't let go.

I woke up last night crying. My heart was aching. I did not stop crying until I fell asleep again. Now that I know the density of substance this person has on my heart I will never go back to a weakened version of this. I will never settle, even out of comfort. Things are looking dim right now, but my faith keeps me going. It is all I have hold on and even so my grip is being held with the tips of my fingers.

I am a fighter. I will fight for the both of us if you need me to. But don’t expect me to give up. I may be tired, but I will not give in. I can only hope I am not shut out. This has been the greatest test of patience I have ever endured. But I am here… Waiting.