I know what the trick is going to be, but I don't know how to get there.

I know the idea is to be satisfied being alone. But, how do I get there? I guess I have to start by being alone... romantically, completely. I don't want to take that step. Losing the amount of affection I currently possess would send this addict into raging withdrawals. There's bound to be lots of crying, drinking, and heavy partying. I'd probably write so much my fingers would bleed.

It has nothing to do, really, with any one particular person. It's affection. It's everything about it. I feed off of it. Rely on it. I don't know how to break my addiction, and still have it in my life?

O sweet Affection,

I'm an addict for you,

raging in withdrawal.

My skin turns blue from

the air between us.

It's sundered,

like rain falling from clouds.

All involuntary disrupts,

like drowning leaves

weeping death in puddles.

I curse the separate space,

the next embrace

and last kiss.

I curse empty.

Bi-Polar Heart

Sometimes, I drive down the road with all the windows down. I sing to fun jams until my throat hurts, and I'm completely out of breath. I feel so happy with the warm breeze tossing my bangs around, or the cold air stiffening my nose and heat on my feet. I smile, sigh heavily, and feel as though all is well.

Sometimes, I drive down the road, and I can't stand to have the wind in my face pelting me with strong gusts that jet my hair into my eyes. I hum solemnly to slow sad angsty modern-day poets. I can't find the right temperature on my heat or A/C. I'm uncomfortable, crumple my brow, sigh heavily, and feel absolutely lost.

I don't quite understand the disconnect experienced in the space between the two paragraphs above. The emotion, yes... the emotion is exact opposite in each. But, why? Where does this bi-polar heart originate? It's this behavior that concerns me. Will I always be a roller coaster? How am I to be loved if I can't even answer, "what's wrong?" Would I love that girl? Well, I think I love me, so maybe the answer to that is, "Conditionally."

Tonight, as I drove home, it was the former. I was smiling and laughing at my terrible singing. I don't know what's more important... having more evenings with this feeling or more consistency. I think consistency would be nice. I confuse me. This is not a good sign. I confuse everyone; someone has to have clarity on the issue of "me". It has to BE me. Being me is really getting on my nerves. I just want happy, and I want it more often than, not equal to, sullen.

I don't want to be a sullen wilted girl.

So, either everyone on the planet is intuitive about my feelings, or I'm easy to read. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that I wear my emotions in my eyes, unmistakable. In fact, I'd call you captain obvious if you told me such. Even in a text I can't hide how I'm feeling.

Man, that is frustrating. I couldn't be someone else if I wanted. It also makes me a really bad liar, so I guess that's a good thing. But, it would be nice to build a little mystery, ya know? I mean mystery is something to which I'm incredibly attracted. I wish I weren't, however.

Bad? Good?

Whatever.

putting my love in storage

Two years ago, damn near exactly, I spoke of a broken heart. And, again, a boy did not take it, but it heaves broken in my chest, somehow, able to beat. Life takes away my happy and still sends me inward. I'm always trapped in reflection, which seriously is annoying.

I still think back to being 19 and destroyed. I was destroyed by a boy. I gave a boy my love like an expensive gift, but he didn't return it when our romance ended. He still has it in the pocket of the pants he never wears stuffed in the bottom of his closet... they are too small for him. It's as if he keeps them in case they fit again someday. And, maybe, just maybe, that's why I don't demand he give it back. Maybe I think I'll fit again, which is just silly. I mean, at this rate, he's not getting a refund for anything he returns. After all, it's been 11 years. I still remember his phone number.

I don't know if I can love again. It's never been the same. I've never been the same. There is no abandonment of all inhibition anymore. There is no going back to those days. That makes me so sad. I don't want to try anymore. There is no unconditional. Trying is stupid. I wish love would stop finding me. The bastard is sneaky.

So, it's in writing, I don't want to try anymore. But, there is still a need for human affection. How do I get that, and keep my fickle heart at bay, AND keep from hurting someone else? Somehow, I must. So, for now, I'm not searching for love; I'm fighting like mad to keep it away from me.

I don't know why, but I'm constantly amazed by the amount of love I have around me. I have been searching for romantic love like from the movies. So many little girls will be crushed to know it only exists in stories. So, I've been in pursuit of this fairy tale love, when all around me, love envelopes. I'm so loved. I do not feel deserving. I'm not certain from where this emotion stems, but I feel it in the simplist of gestures. I'm so fucking loved. How did I not see this before? For so long I've felt thankful for the people in my life, and never once did I think they'd be grateful for the same. It's a lovely discovery. I promise I won't forget. I promise to try to see the value in me others have seen for years. I hope the objects of my great affection feel it too. They are plenty.

I am in good company.

I wonder how long I'll be a broken girl? Is there some sort of estimation someone can offer me? Will the mistakes I've made continue to repeat? I know they are mistakes; why the fuck do I continue to make them? I like to try and understand my behavior. Some of it, though, boggles the crap out of me.

I have too many questions. Too many of them are unanswerable. Stupid. I've felt very alone, and lost. I'm still freaking lost and who knows when I'll find myself, but I'm not alone. They are at least two people who know me... and they don't mind all my faults. They love me anyway, and in life, that's all that anyone can ask for, and it happens to be absolutely necessary. So simple, but damn near impossible to locate amongst all the lies and treachery in which this world drowns. So, maybe, just maybe, I'll find my way some day.

The Wind is pissed today. It's finished Fall's job, and is carrying our left over summer off for company. Can't say I blame it for wanting them to join its journey. However, I'm not interested in being said company. It's howling so hard, I'm nearly blown away. It's rather annoying for it to be billowing such these three days. Three days when I have to be outside, and move furniture. It's frustrating to barely be able to get in and out of the car without being swept away, literally.

FACK. I think I'm sick of Fall already.

I don't think I've ever had this much trouble finishing a piece of writing. The post below is just so damn sullen. I guess that is its intent. It's not like the past month has been perfect. And, it's a reflection of all the high hopes I had for my life in this place, and the sorrow I feel for failing.

I don't think I've ever written anything that lacked emotion such as life.

I don't know if I'll finish.

I wish I weren’t vain.

I’m feeling particularly pitiful this evening.  I’ve gone out of my way… not figuratively.  It’s been decided that I cannot do it much longer, although it’s still being asked of me.

An aching sadness is consuming the air surrounding me.  I do know that I want a partner for life… at some point.  I do not want marriage or children.  I just want to share this fucked up life with someone.  And, the most I’ll ever ask is the same effort be given that I put forth.

That doesn’t seem like too much to ask, but I’ve failed again in spotting it.   Correction… I’m failing.  I’m failing slowly.  It’s like turning on the shower too hot, and not having the means to move from it’s burning spray. 

I’m just standing here in hot fucking water, and I am melting.

unchangeable against my will

I'm am forever burdened by my romantic notions.  They haunt me.   I dream of pulsating lips parted by oxygen that never find their meeting.   I wake to wind howling ambitions never lived. Couples embrace on the street while their ghosts hold their eyes open at me.

Lessons learned?  I do not know what lessons I have learned.  I am unchangeable.  Even when I want to be, I cannot be moved.  I sway briefly to the sound of fantasy, but I always return to reality.  Why do I continue to want that which lies outside my own garden?

I cannot take my eyes off of the girl I’ve seen in my future.  I’m doomed to never met her.  I stretch my height while staring at the horizon;  I’m so certain she’s there.  If only my sight could reach just a bit farther.  If only someone could help me find her.

Even when I need to be, I cannot be moved.

“If I never met you, I wouldn’t like you.  If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t love you.  If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t miss you.  But I did, I do, and I will.”

Some hate to run. The Road and I have a special connection. For a few years in my 20s, running was all I had. It was just me and the four mile stretch of asphalt near my home. I loved that path. I miss that path, but not the life in which it was held. There was no judgement on that road. Just me and my shoes, and some tunes. It was solace. I'd like to make it such again.

My body hates it right now. I am not in the best running shape, but I'm getting back there. I'm 30... man, that is hard to write down and I think I'll frown when I say it out loud until I'm 31. I'll probably have a different sort of frown at my age then. I need to lose about ten pounds to be more effective, but, I'm going to get my body back into running shape so I can share it with the Road. I don't need to run marathons, but I need that relationship back. It was the best relationship I've ever had. The Road isn't mad at me if I'm in a bad mood and don't want to talk, if I don't have any make-up on, or if I didn't do my hair. It doesn't even care if I stink. I can dress as uncoordinated as I like, and the Road is still happy to see me. It is a bit harder on me if I don't show up for a few days, but soon forgives. I need this relationship back. I'm pretty sure it's the only one I can't completely destroy. I can mistreat it, but it always takes me back. It's time I were better to the Road.

I keep dropping my heart on the floor. I am responsible for its damage. I can't blame anyone else.

I'm hopeful that eventually a light switch will go off. I'll be like, 'oh, right. Of course! THAT is what I want.' Life is so fucking stupid. We have imposed far too many responsibilities on one another. There is too much disappointment. No one can freaking win... Least of all, this girl.

I'm willing to bet about 85% of the human race never find their place. Why do I think I should be on the other side? Why should I be so special and lucky? I envy those who find their place with talent (voice, music, athletics, business, writing, motherhood, whatever). I'm decent at many things in life, but not nearly masterful in one of them. This makes happiness in a living difficult. It also makes me indecisive. I haven't been able to pick which moderate skill to enhance. It's so stupid. The human race will see its downfall in searching for purpose.

I'd like to know where my instruction booklet was lost. I don't know the road to any where, and I can't find the one to my soul. Stupid. Why do I feel the need to find it? Purpose. It will kill me.

"Lord, make me a rainbow

I'll shine down on my Mother.

She'll know I'm safe with you

when she stands under my colors."

Exert from If I Die Young--The Band Perry

How is it possible that on the day America declared its independence, I find myself lacking it?