The more things change...

...the more they stay the same. I'm sure truer words have been spoken but tonight, none ring truer for me. More than 2 years have passed and still I feel like I'm on a proverbial merry-go-round and each rise and fall of the pony signifies the ups and downs we still seem to encounter from moment to moment. There is no love here. We are bound tightly together by fear; the fear that if we stop what we are doing, we will be required to face the world alone again. We are tightly wound together and strung through with the worry that we may or may not meet another and that we may accidentally slip into love again. But what if she is like me or he is like you? We can't bear to meet another us in the world. We can't bear to be open, be broken, to lose. And I fear the failure. I love you madly, deeply and I tried to fight for your affections with all I had. Still, I cannot achieve the feat of even making you acknowledge that the woman who stands before you is not the same one who will forget your feelings and crush your spirit again - let alone love me. Today, I'm not even sure that you like me but I'm pretty sure you liked me earlier. Maybe my judgement is off or maybe you deserved and Oscar and I an Emmy for the daytime performances I give everyday when some asks about our happy life. Im miserable.  You're miserable. We keep saying enough, enough, ENOUGH! But how come no one will be daring enough to walk away? Then here I come with my foolish logic: it's because he really, actually loves me and he really doesn't want to be without me. One day things will be okay... 8 years of on-and-off later and I'm still riding that merry-go-round. Three years of being faithful and still not hearing that I'm yours or being confident in the fact that your mine. What are we doing here?

In search of clarity, strength and a moment of peace that I can finesse into a lifetime of happiness.

Soooooo Anxious

Just as I was about to type this, I heard Ginuwine's voice.  Please forgive all the o's.  However, my anxiety level is likely at an all time high right now.  I got the dreaded (well, in this case joyous) "we need to talk..." text.  There are several things that I know for certain won't be the topic of conversation.  Things like I'm pregnant (because I'm not and I didn't even initiate this exchange).  Or you gave me (insert horribly curable or incurable disease here).  No one died.  You would have just come out with it.  Or possibly said fuck you, you'll find out on your own.  So for that I am grateful.  Still, it does nothing to ease this fluttering in my stomach that is traveling to my heart which is pounding so hard that it's shaking my esophagus rapidly.  I had a cup of coffee and hot fries today.  It's all I can stand.    I just laughed a little.  The thought of it being coffee and hot fries, not of the possible contents of this conversation, that has me all jittery was briefly amusing.

I wonder what you want to talk to me about?  Is it that you miss me?  That you realize that we can, we will?  There goes the inevitability of the floating hope...

You asked me about being 100 again and I answered, 100.  In the back of my mind though, I am worried that this is going to be gas burned to hear how much you hate me, how much you can't stand me and a litany of things you swear you know I did and never told you.  Then we'll have sex "one last time" for literally like the 30th time, or not, and I'll leave feeling hallow.  Insert the feeling of dread from the dreaded text now. 

I'm not worried because I don't have any thing else that could possibly be exposed.  I'm worried that I can't withstand another tirade.  I'm more worried that I can.  It's becoming increasingly unsettling to me that I've come to a place where by I feel I deserve these lengthy sermons that preach to me all the reasons I ain't shit.  I presume self-loathing can be a normal step in the progression of change.  After all, it has been the trigger for the change.  I just wonder how long I can allow reconstruction and destruction to dwell in the same place before my brain implodes or my heart truly, physically brakes and I become some medical anomoly; the girl with the broken heart... no really, it's broken.

Anyway, you'll say your words this evening and I'll cry.  I know I'll cry.  The mystery is whether it will be tears of joy or pain.  A little bit of both is the most positive outcome I could pray for.

In seach of... calm.

Tuesday Blues

Another day. There have been some laughs and smiles. Still every quiet moment is just time to think about how I miss you. I'm trying to respect your wishes but I want to disregard them with everything in my being. Then I remember that disregarding your feelings is how I landed in this desolate place where my feelings haunt rather than soothe me. 

So I just keep placing one foot in front of the other praying something will change. 

Searching for a way back inside my safe place. A place that has been boardered and barred in an effort to keep me out. I just want to go back home... To you. 

Day 1

I feel as shattered as the screen I'm looking through. Still something inside me says be faithful, be hopeful. Pray for this thing and don't fight the feeling. 

I talked to my mom yesterday. It was an amazingly interesting talk. She gave me insight and I listened. She spoke your heart and she didn't even know it. She told me things about myself so plainly; things I realize you've been trying to get me to understand. Things you've said plainly too, but I couldn't accept about myself. You can't begin to change things you won't even accept I realized yesterday. And I listened to her because she was human to me. She wasn't the horrid person I know vividly. She was a woman who opened her mouth and admitted her flaws, her bad example setting. And in that moment, I could accept her critique because I knew it came from a place of love and genuine concern. Something I was certain couldn't come from her when it dealt with me. It made me want to give her another chance. 

You love that man, she said. Down to the dirty drawls, she said. I do, I said. But you're ability to be so single minded is probably the exact thing that's scared him, she said. You love him so much but in a moment you can compartmentalize that, and every other feeling to get/do what you want right then, she said. That probably scares him that he has to wonder if you'll think of him and do the right things, she said. I couldn't say anything. You think people are stupid, she said. You get that from your father. You think you can do something, clean it up and no one will ever find out, she said. And you've always got an excuse, she said. 

You're right, I said. It's all I could say. She made it so plain and I never looked at it that way when you tried to tell me. I'd argue the point even. That's what he says, I said. And I wanted to cry. You're so bright, she said. But you're your own worst enemy. You're smart, but not that smart, is what she told me. She said she prayed that things work out because she knows I love you. We talked for hours and I wished you were a fly on the wall. If you could see me facing things head on and not making excuses like you always told me. 

Bring something to table, she said. It doesn't have to be a whole lot of money, but you have to be smart, savvy.  That's what she told me and for 2 hours I talked and wished I'd stop despising my mother 4 years ago so she could have said these things to me and I could have understood. So that I could be laying next to you and not counting days. 

It's day one and although I feel like I've just had a major breakthrough, I feel more alone than ever. I'm losing my best friend, I said. She knew, she said itp.  

Today I'm not sure exactly what it is I'm in search of... To seek his face I suppose. That he may see fit to let me lay eyes on, smell you, be held by you again. 

Fuck everything...

...until I feel something else. 

If this makes sense

I'm having one of those days. One of those blah, no wait, feel good, oh I lied, I'm lonely kinda days. Everything is blowing in the wind and I wish I could say I felt breezy but I don't. I feel like I'm in the eye of a tornado. I have this unsettling calm even though I see the trinkets of my life being spin about my head. I know I can't stay in the eye forever. I don't fear the moment that the wind comes to rip me apart again; I loathe the feelings that I know it will bring. 

It's an odd place to be. Stuck between someone's sayings and doings. I presume this is the painful place you've resided for ages. It's human nature to take heed of the beautiful things and block the terrors out. I eloquently spoke how I wanted things to be; you held my words as you should. My actions, however, we'll just say didn't amount to being worth more than the shit you'd later flush down the toilet. You speak malice; it hurts so good though. It is the punishment I've come to accept I deserve. But your actions say you are enraged with the fact that my pleasant words planted a seed of love that you have concluded you MUST kill because I've broken the very tool with which you loved me so.  But you spend hours in your yard these days. You understand from experience that the pesky things are not easily stomped dead. Even in all your hard work to eliminate their life source, they persist. 

In true Kanye, sick and twisted form, I breathe both; your words, your actions. No one hates someone they don't care about I tell myself. No one wastes energy getting angry with someone who means nothing I say. 

Who knows anything anymore? Days are just passing me and there's something that just isn't quite right with the world. I pray for my day of atonement while I am in an all our brawl with the notion that it may never come. 

I'm in search of a clean slate on an old board... It's that too much to ask )(again)? Probably...

Hard Truths...

The truth, when anything but pleasant news, has proven to be hard for me.  I'm always wanting everything to be okay or just so or at least look that way on the surface.  I'm not one to rock the boat or ruffle feather, even when necessary, it seems. I've learned the hard way that one lie has a more lasting effect than 1000 hurtful truths.  But the most enlightening and crushing thing that I've learned thus far is that I'm not perfect.  Well, I never thought I was perfect but I never took into account that I was anything other than a really nice person. 

Reflection can be a bitch... But lately, she seems to be the realest bitch I've ever met.  Someone once told me that not everyone can see themselves; that being able to see yourself is truly a gift.   I would say it's a curse until it becomes a gift.  I see me and it's not pretty.  She's not pretty.  God surely has a sense of humor.  Last year, at the height of my lies, my face broke out terribly.  Slowly but surely, it's been clearing up... slowly but surely I've been coming clean.  First about what I did, now about who I am.  But coming clean means saying that I'm selfish, I'm a liar, I'm unfaithful and deceptive.  I can be manipulative and cold.  It means saying I hurt people and expect that no one should hurt me.  Seeing oneself doesn't mean that I don't have to acknowledge my pain, but for me, it mean realizing that a lot of my pain was self inflicted.  This is my journey.  It has been hard, lonely and rudely awakening. 

I am in search of... self-finding.

"I bleed my heart in every line.  I write to free my mind."