i could really use a wish right now

I don't remember the moment. I can pinpoint the time frame, but not the moment. Some how, it was sneaky. I'm not sure if I was ready for it to happen, although I'm ready for it now. I'm in love with it, mostly. Other times, it's frustrating.

Sometime during the last two years, I went from girl to woman. In a lot of ways, I haven't been a girl, maybe ever. And, I can't really describe the exact characteristics or... changes that have forced me to make the transition, but it's clear. I don't think I'm alone in noticing it.

You see it.

I still struggle, though. I wrestle with me now and me then and the me I want to be in the future. I'm beginning to wonder if any of it matters? No matter how much I seem to grow personally, I still lose daily. I lose friends, love, and family. I lose pieces of my youth. I shed them like dry skin.

It flakes away with each brush up against another. I feel it leaving me. I never thought I'd care... that's when I thought life was planned. I thought, I was growing old with someone. I guess I hadn't faced the possibility of growing old alone... Until recently. Now, I'm trying to cling to my youthfulness, but I see it fading in my face, my hands and my heart.

The last part is what I miss most. I don't have the ability to fight for what my heart wants anymore. It settles... and I can't talk it into standing up for itself. I used to be able... and now I'm just defeated.

So, being a grown up is supposed to come with all sorts of knowledge and realization. Maybe it does. Perhaps it comes with an understanding of what "sweating the little stuff" really means. But, it's surrendering. I don't know if that's positive or damaging to my self.

Somehow, I fell out of love with being a woman during this post. I want my innocence back. I want it back, and I can't fucking remember where I left it, or if someone stole it. Or did I discard it like garbage? How foolish.

If you've got an art, stop neglecting it.

The cursor on this page tortures me. It begs me to type... to type something worth reading. But, I'm just staring at it. I have nothing but vain things to write about, aimlessly.

Someone currently calls me, "baby". Is it the kind of "baby" I want? Is there love, honesty, and trust beneath those letters? I don't know the answers.

I currently call someone "baby". Is it the kind of "baby" he wants? No. There is love, honesty, trust... desire... so many damn things behind it. So many damn things he doesn't want. I know those answers. I do not have the strength or courage to act upon what I know. I cannot leave him. I'm trapped exactly where I am... always, trapped. I've given my heart to him, although he does not take ownership.

Don't call me baby... don't waste my time.

I feel slighted

I am the youngest of three sisters. It was pretty much my mother and us three for the majority of my life. All I knew, is what they told me. So, I feel like they did a bit of a shoddy job. I mean, I have no idea how to guard my heart. No one ever taught me. So, I walk around with it hanging from my neck. I don't even cradle it in my hands, much less put it safely in my chest. This is something I need to learn. All those I've ever given it to, have treated it more like a volleyball... taking the time and focus to spike it at times.

If I had had a little sister, I would have taught her... keep your heart only for you. It's too fucking important and it's painful when you give it to someone else that is careless with it. If I had a daughter I would teach her that people are mean.... they are self-serving.

Don't fucking trust anyone with your heart... its breaking is inevitable.

So, tonight I was brushing my teeth, and in the mirror I was looking at the t-shirt I have on which reads, "Tony's Sutton Pizza". It's navy blue, and the material is old and very soft, but it's still in good condition. It doesn't belong to me... well, I guess some kind of ownership rules have been enacted due to the amount of time it has spent being worn by me, rolled up in my hamper, or folded in my drawer. So, I guess it's mine, but I did not acquire it in a store nor was it given to me; You used to wear it. It's an item from our break-up. I wonder if you remember it? It was yours. You wore a lot of t-shirts like it that you'd purchased at second-hand or vintage stores. I liked that about you. Your t-shirts really didn't mean anything. This shirt was left at my place after the hardest of all hards as far as break-ups go, and in my world, anyway. It was the first, and by extension, the one I most failed. It was my wake-up call into love and relationships.

You were a lovely guy, probably still are, but by this time, a man. It was all very typical. Our relationship was short. You made me feel beautiful, something I had not felt. The climb was exciting and new. The view from the top was stunning. The descend was glorious, and the fall was life-changing. We climbed fast, and fell harder. I shook the Earth when I hit the concrete. I was awful to you for weeks. I was confused, scared, angry, hurt, sad, happy, hormonal, clingy, and starving. I was so many emotions... they were unstable chemicals, and I was a heated test tube. They had no business being in one's heart simultaneously. So, naturally, I wasn't equipped even minimally to handle it given my perspective on life. I was young. You were young. You told me you loved me. No one else has said it quite like you... then again, all men that proceeded you were compared to you. It's unfair, but unavoidable.

I used to be proud of myself when I could stay away from you for a month. I remember when I came to see you shortly after 9/11/01. You always looked so handsome... and you always told me how good I looked. That was usually our first exchange. I revisited us even after I moved home, far from you. I did that for ten months. I still remember the last time I saw you. After about a year and a half or so of revisiting one another, I finally just stopped calling. FINALLY. That was an emotionally trying time.

After another year or so, I'd met someone I was excited about. After I trusted him, I told him our story, and I showed him our pictures. He said, "Happy looks good on you." About two or so months passed, and I decided, foolishly, all those pictures had to go. I destroyed them. I'm not sure what got into me. I don't remember how I felt at that moment, but I remember thinking "These gotta go." I still didn't feel over you, and I guess somehow I thought this action of "burning" your ex into ashes, figuratively, would be cleansing. I know it was bullshit. I don't have anything left... This is something I've regretted for many years. I tried to delete you. I don't know why I thought that was possible. Our relationship is very defining in my life. I hope I learned from it... and I think I continue to learn from it. I would never want to forget you... even if I never see you or hear from you again, which is likely. It has been eight years or something.

So, I wish I hadn't tried to erase you. BUT, the t-shirt... I was brushing my teeth, I read the shirt, and I thought, "So, I didn't delete all of him." I felt a sudden rush of relief. I have several of them still. I've cleaned out my collection of shirts very often, and I've never gotten rid of any of yours, and I never thought twice about keeping them. I don't even need to unfold them to know which they are... that's how long I've had them.

I don't expect to revisit this love, or that time in my life. I don't miss you anymore. I do miss my innocence. I gave that away when we were together, and I can't remember who I left it with... I don't know if it was you or if I left it in a pair of jeans that got washed. At any rate, that shit is gone, and I can't have it back. But, I like to remember who I was when I was with you. I was carefree, and I didn't hold back anything. Maybe she is who I miss, uh? I'm just glad I have the t-shirts... and no, you can't have them back.

A face like an angel,

that no one could love.

A heart like a stallion,

that ended up alone.

just be scared with me

Life is so stupid. So many of us fail at it. I fail on a daily basis. I fail to have patience at a stop light or consideration for a coworker. I fail to look myself in the eye and believe that I'm beautiful. I fail to care for me.

A few events have occurred over the past week that has left me sullen and sulking. I don't know a way out. I don't know where to go from here. I'm trapped inside my apartment with a keyboard and monitor. It's beautiful outside, and I cannot bring myself to open the back door. I'm lost in my thoughts. I'm lost in devastation. There is one thing I'd like to succeed in, and I cannot seem to find another person willing to go my distance. How foolish of me to think that another person could contain the amount of passion I hold... the amount I extend. I'm just too intense, and I don't know another way of being.

A friend send this text to me... a friend that knows me well. A friend that has always got the perfect words to say to me. He cares greatly for me, and I'm so thankful for him. He is letting me devour myself for the time being. He's allowing me to be sad. Other people seem to just want me to wake from this nightmare, as if they can do so by shaking me. It's like shaking an angry cat right now. I just want to be sad.

me: the hardest part is getting dumped

Friend: I'm sorry. You are truly a unique and wonderful woman and clearly he doesn't have the capacity to appreciate who you are.

me: ty. That means a lot to me.

Friend: Just know I care, and you matter. It's well-known that time heals hurts... people never acknowledge, however, that when you're hurting, time stretches, interminably slow.

How right is he?

Monday is steadily approaching, however, and soon I must face life. I've been fairly independent throughout my life. Things have happened and I've been able to overcome them. This... this however, feels very damaging. It's more damaging than anything I've encountered in recent times. But, I still have to pick up, and be, I guess. Many people depend on me continuing on... pushing forward, or whatever. Maybe I can just delay this shit for one more evening...

*Are you okay?

-I'm scared.

*Me too.

-Want to be scared together?

*I like this idea.

My capacious heart

I've neglected you, Daughter. The fleeting disposition of my absent nature is my Life. I will not expatiate my regret or grief. I will not burden you with my eccentric deeds because you see, Daughter, you will not forgo my trespasses. You will not repudiate my damage because it is done. I do sit up at night wondering and dreaming of your place in life. I think, "Did I have a hand in success or happiness?" Well, as truculent as my Life and choices may seem, Pride remains. I'd rather not face the facts. I'm ruined.

Ephemeral Enmity Love

Father, you have left me. A day has gone and went and still... all is silent on your end of the line. My jovial childhood precedes my somber youth. And, somewhere in between I can see your evanescent guidance and your dilatory inclination swallowing your love. I can see you forever in the background whispering, judging and hating. You knew someday your laggard ways would perch its filthy face on my shoulder. The day has come, Father. A day for recognition. I have bruises; They are well protected and remain fresh. But, Father... I'm okay. Mother was there. Always, Mother was there picking up after your sloppy counsel. She governed in a world enveloped in regret. She's still cleaning your vacuous Life out of my eyes. Bruises fade, Father. The past remains the same.

But, I'm okay, Daddy. Mommy is still here.

Why does it feel like we made it official, and suddenly caught the plague. Our disease is eating away at one another. The closer we get.. the further we are from happy.

I realized something sobering last night. I put all my eggs in one basket. A basket that was supposed to with stand eternity... or at least my eternity. Well, the bottom fell out, or it caught on fire or something. Either way, my fucking eggs are spoiled.

Useless.

I'm terrible at this "girlfriend" thing. I don't know what I'm thinking. It will only end, and probably journey, into pain. Maybe I'm too demanding. Maybe I don't know me. Maybe I'm a fucking idiot. All I know for sure is I feel like crap. I'm so tired of waiting for other people to make me feel good. One would think I would have figured it out after all these years.

Life has dealt me awful awful cards. Not the worst a person could have, but not even decent. Why do I continue to hope I'll get an Ace once in a while? Why am I so fucking foolish? I'm just a ghost here. I'm not even a likable person anymore.

I gently float
on my limits.
Pushing and
pressing
softly.

Loving
dysfunctional,
and weeping
for it
woefully.

Gliding
and misleading,
the strings of my
heart
foolishly.

I'll continue to
depress my love
in longing.
I'll keep it from
mending.

I know nothing else.

A love affair exists in the skies. We don't notice it, but it's always there. It's tumultuous. It's a stellar triangle the sorts only celestial beings are blessed... or cursed... to experience.

The Sun, he is steady. He's trapped in place while the woman he loves, The Moon, circles an uncontrollable forever. He watches her always as her evening hair is soft lifted upon his eternal morning. He goes days without even a glance in his direction; he struggles to keep her attention, but his glare burns bright on her light skin, and her aging surface hides from him.

The Comet can't stop his tracks. He constantly crashes past the Moon... and past her... and past her. Each of his lives begins with the excitement of fragments breaking off into her, or the terror of his uncontrollable path taking him into the Earth instead. His journey takes years, decades, and sometimes longer... each life's duration is unpredictable. He races for her... he tries to bend himself in her direction... but he's subject to the wind's discretion.

The Moon is continually faced with a choice. A fleeting love she knows will die a hundred thousand times before he can grace her with a soft kiss, or the steady Sun that cannot be moved, but would worship her forever, and be with her always. Emotional excitement or steady suburbia.

Look up sometime... you'll see it.

I wonder when I'll die? I could be dying all along. I could be floating to
death like a feather departed from its maker. It does not die until it has hit
the ground. I was living until my innocence left me. What happens when the
amount of time spent living is exceeded by the years spent dying? Is that when
I will expire? Or, is someone sent to save me? I have been waiting for some
time now, and I'm hard pressed to believe they are coming indeed. I've only a
few years remaining before my time overlaps. If I continue breathing, it would
surely be dying inhaled, and death exhaled.

Maybe we are all feathers? Some have lived beautiful on swans, but dying is a
short trip to drowning death. Some are on the wings of eagles, soaring
sorrowfully their inevitable extinction, and grand idolization. Their feathers
fall a beautiful back and forth, and are sometimes prolonged with gusts of wind
and life. Some are trapped on flightless birds. How sad a the life of
a feather that never soars in the sky... their dying is short, and death comes
beneath the feet of predators.

They (we) all eventually sink, and only memories of their (our) fantastic falls remain.

As a feather floats upon the wind
and fancies itself endless,
I soar with her flight.
She romances the evening sun
and pleads for another day of life.
I relish in her fight.

Resolution

I'm a little achy in the heart today. It's a bizarre feeling, and rather difficult to put into words properly. The best way to say is, I have a particularly dreadful sort of longing right now. Longing because, obviously, there is something I desire which I do not presently posess. Dreadful, because it's not something I'm quite comfortable desiring.

Last night, I made a... resolution, I guess (I had trouble determining what word would best fit here). I've said many times that I'll never marry again. I believe this determination, although many others do not. Here is why I believe marriage fails. We all know people who marry, and stay together forever. But, what percentage are they of those couples who marry? I mean, 5% maybe of the married couples I know/knew are still together. Something so fragile as love is doomed to failure when the expectation and pressure of "forever" is place on it's very existence. It must breathe every moment with the understanding that if this fails, dreams are crushed. How can anything possibly survive with that kind of pressure?! Life is fleeting, and that is why it is precious. Love is fleeting, and should also be cherished as such. Two people get together and decide that they have the rest of their lives to appreciate one another, so appreciation ends. I'm certain someone else has thought this before, but I'm just now thinking it, I guess. Or, I've been thinking it, and I'm only just now able to put in into words that matter.

So, my resolution... I'll never put any pressure, or expiration date for that matter on my current fling (or any future for that matter). I don't think that it is a fling exactly, but it is fun and exciting. No pressure... no expecation, no guilt, and no disappointment. I'm hoping that's possible for some time to come, because as soon as it becomes impossible is when one or the other will split. He's not my boyfriend. He's more of a lover in every sense of the word, not just physically. It's romantic, passionate, and important. So, he and I end when we end. I don't believe in forever anymore anyway. Everything dies, and why should romantic love be any different?

Anyway, why is my heart achy? I don't rightly know. Maybe because I left him with a kiss as goodbye this morning while he lay very cozy still... maybe because I have nightmares when I sleep alone... maybe because I have deeper feeling for him that I would not define as love. I believe I've stumbled upon some other sort of affection. I don't quite know its definition. I know that it's different, and it's probably because I'm different. I'm exploring it, and just trying to be happy. I'm trying not to lose me amongst all the other people in the world. It seems easy to do. I've never considered myself someone of weak character, but still, I lose me. I'm trying to keep me close.

He picked me up
with ease.
He said he meant
no harm.

He lied.

Love sick and
diseased,
I'm romanced
and disarmed.

Locked inside.

My affections
pleaded,
and melted,
with his love charm.

And I died.

I'm fairly certain, that I can never really be with someone else without giving up a piece of me. I really don't want to give up any of me. I'm selfish. I want all of me to be here; it's not fair that I should have to compromise me. Life is stupid.

Love is even stupider. The stupidest part is that I need it. I long for it as flowers yearn for spring showers and the coming warm sun. Ceasing to breathe seems easier.

I'm living with half a heart right now anyway. What's the problem with giving up a bit of me so I can have a whole heart? I'm not so sure it would be in good hands. I'm scared for its treatment. I'm scared for the half of heart I have hiding in the night stand. If I put it back in my chest, it could be stolen. If I carry it, dropping it is inevitable. I could lend it to someone, but would they return it? And, what state would it be in? I'm scared for it.

I'm just straight up scared.

I have decided... I have a need to make other people happy. It makes me feel good to please others. I have seen this as a flaw in the past. I've seen it as something I need to change. Maybe I don't? Maybe, it's part of my character. Maybe it's something other people have to accept. Maybe it's something I have to accept..?

As I age, there are so many things about me that could be better... but, I can never be perfect, right? So, I have to stop trying to change the things that really won't have an affect on life. I have to live with them.

I'm not perfect. I'm flawed... so very flawed.

I'll settle for perfectly flawed.

Driving home tonight I was able to drive westward... into the sunset. The sky was clear, apart from a few clouds. They seemed to gather around the retreating day. Maybe they are clinging to its warmth? It's partly the reason I watch. I love soaking in those last few warm rays while the goosebumps overtake me.

Shadows drift off sunset's fringe
hopeful for a repeat of amber glory.
Fiery cast honor in dusk's binge
woefully reciting the day's story.

Sun does not see his evening,
only morning.
but Moon basks in the beauty
of Sun's duty.