I asked my best friend, the forever-optimist/romantic, "why don't I ever have a date?" 

"Because you haven't found him yet. His beard will be epic yadda yadda yadda."

Me: "False. It's because I stopped making things happen. I meet a guy, decide I want to date, and I make things happen. No one does romantical shit anymore. I do. I did. I stopped. I made everything happen in all my relationships. I don't foresee meeting someone I want to do that with again. It's exhausting."

This is the longest I've ever been single and it is much by choice. I mean, I would say yes to a date, but I've no offers for such--Plenty of men that want to fuck me, none, that I know of, that want to know me. And it's going to take time. I'm not knowable overnight. I refuse to do such by text anymore. I want a real relationship. I want someone with character. I want a partner.

I hope a date does happen, though. I mean, I don't really want to be single, but I don't want a relationship just for the sake of it. I don't like feeling lonely either.

Sucks. I'm always, forever, once again...

Just dried leaves, waiting on the wind.

Must find my way

past these festering

hateful habits

As they

spiral into

character flaws.

Standing helpless

memorizing every

move made.

Meticulous

self

manipulation,

Like cold

breezes on

snowy days.

Must make it past these days. 

-----------------------------

You mustn't repeat it in order to declare it a "lesson learned."

I wonder... Is everyone so moved by music? Not necessarily music, but lyrics. I am a sucker for good writing. 

Tears stream down my cheeks, hot, for a well wriitten song with heart. Even if I can't pull from experience, I emphathize with the sentiment. Is that common?

It's probably completely ordinary. 

I'm not looking, anticipating... I'm just waiting--as the rivers's waters move patiently with its current. 

I'm just waiting for someone to see me. 

And, I suppose growth is certain when you no longer need anyone to know that growth is certain. 

I won't have to tell "you"--"you" will just know. 

These are my exclaimations, proclamations, expectations... All of my aspirations. No more selling short; I'll give myself freely to the worthy. 

It happened to all of me.

I felt our walls come down–
we scrambled as they crumbled.
One-by-one they tumbled–
I clenched my heart as it trembled.

I heard the cards fall
into love like gravity,
as dreams in waters tall,
drown most of me.

I watched as you realize
rough dangers advancing.
Just as quickly your eyes
displaced our gazes chancing.

I smelled desire die–
suffocated in doubt.
My lips sealed in goodbye–
a sullen pout.

I tasted the burns
of my ashes twisting,
as rebirth evades
my tired mending.

It happened to all of me.

I let boys use and discard me like a cheap toy.  I let boys who don't care for me have me.  I've wondered for a long time, "Why do I do that? Why do I let people I don't care about walk all over me?"

I finally have my answer: I DON'T CARE ABOUT ME.

Why should they be any different?

My current place in life is as tumultuous as ever.  I'm forever in between, endlessly mending, and I never fail to put myself at a disadvantage.  I annoy myself with my predictable predicaments. It all comes down to self-worth.  I remember how the importance of self-esteem was pressed in junior high/high school.  We all laughed and made fun of their cliche tag lines–convinced of our invincibility (how cliche in itself). Come to find out, cliche is cliche for a reason. If all the lame greeting card phrases are still around, doesn't that mean something?  It's just a collection of advice from those who've lived it. They weren't always cliche.

I've just now realized that I've let so many people down... I'm recalling so much from so many strong women in my life... things they wanted for me, places they told me I could go, people they told me I could be. I grew up compassionate, loving, mothering, contemplative, complicated, defiant, strong/willed, stubborn, sweet, playful, honest and most importantly, FAIR.

But, I haven't been fair to me. Acceptance is the first step, eh?

I won't ever be perfect, but at least now I'm brave.

"Perhaps all those sappy slogans from preschool over to high school's groaning were tokens for holding the lonely at bay." Tanya Davis, How To Be Alone

It's not that I want to drive off a bridge... it's just that I think of these things happening. Driving off a bridge sounds terrible. I daydream/nightmare about tragedy happening to me nonstop, being stranded in a field full of tornadoes, tripping and falling down the stairs, running someone over, backing into cars, awful accidents, earthquakes, zombies, rape, etc.

I often think of them in the moment they might actually happen. It's very stressful.

A horrible aspect of being a worrier, I suppose.

How can I mean so much to so many, but nothing to myself?

I'm watching summer leave like it's my life.  The air cools and I sweat less, the leaves change and my tan fads, the grass dies and my heart aches.  I'll hide my face in scarves, and put away my bikini.  I'll bury my tears in cold, and warm them only when I sleep. Alone.

The sun no longer warms my soul.  I don't know how to say goodbye to this ridged girl.  I've got too much practice in repairing, too much mending. The walls I fear, are permanent.  I don't have the keys to the gate. I lost them or they were stolen. I can't make it one hour without tears. So fucking stupid. Such a stupid girl. I bring it upon myself although I claim to be okay. I've burned and reborn myself so often–the scar tissue is ugly and painful.  I think this burnout may be my last. I don't think I can take it again. My days as a phoenix are certainly numbered.

The weight of this year has left me hardened.  I don't want the burden of me anymore.  Why would anyone else?  If I'm going to make it, I have to fall in love with me.  I can't even look in the mirror.

"You're a force of nature."

Bullshit.

In the Red of my obsession,
a blue sky swells over me
And shade, shrinks.

although love's exonerated,
In your blandishment,
Growth fetters,
callow and unambitious.

not for a lack of apathy,
But a need, a Desire.
Desire for liberation,
Dismissal of preconceived notions

Of my remaining lust
My enduring reverence
My exceeding infatuation,
A constancy of adoration
That IS no more.

Truth is,
I never hated you,
I still don't hate you,
But,
I don't love you.

I'll wait for the day I can tell you,
I do not need you.
I don't need you to know,
I am NOT counting my moments
desirous for our reunion.

In your recollection,
My name resounds
passion, longing
Devotion, sullen desperation...

Be enlightened:
once a flame glimmered
Hard in my affection,
And met its demise

On the tip of your tongue,
its silent ways,
and in the Black of my affliction.

I don't know what I'm doing. I never have. I just don't understand why I have to be lost alone?

I will torture myself eternal... With the actions of others. 

Days and nights like this, the high won't let me sleep. 

The season disappoints

my expectation

of Earth tones waltz

on nature's canvas.

Bursts of brilliant red break

through dying green and crumpled brown

to tap dance on my hair.

...Short lived hope

for the beauty promised.

Sun shafts cast warm pockets

of wind that lift and drop

wrinkled leaves.

...They fall slowly to death

like sheets of paper.

Great piles of dying summer,

once a hiding place...

only cripple under my weight,

leaving me on the cold ground.

Branches half-dead depress

in their weakened state,

and memories, colorblinded,

fade as summer expires.

Flocks of birds sing a

haunting sadness of

summer's passing,

as they depart.

...I hum along,

and follow them home.

I am

disappointed.

And, once again,

I'm dried leaves,

suppressed and saddened,

wilted,

just waiting on the wind.

.

watching you watching me,
fuels my ignition.
waiting on
an explosion of
nerves,
firing and misfiring.
exchanges of
words,
naughty and yearning.
but sufficing on
my own, batteries,
and steamy dreaming of
your generosity,
with destroyed clothes
and mangled sheets,
leaving me
exposed
and increased.
waiting like
a fireball burning,
sparkling a soft haze,
patient
and churning,
waiting to be set ablaze.

careful careful careful

-->

Embrace,

and our lips meet.
Part. Moisten.
I feel you pulling me,
your hands on my curves.

You are comforted.
Reclining.
I am anxious.
Careful.

I feel the deep
in and out of your chest,
full and firm

pressed across my bust.

Safe.

My pulse is screaming.

Ever increasing.

Chaotic.

You are controlled.
Precise.
I am cautious.
Nervous.

Your hand grazes
my bare skin.
A whimper escapes

when your teeth
take in my neck.
Your grip tightens.
Eager.

My beat slows

to meet your own.

Melodic.

You are affected.
Strong.
I am exposed.
Softened.

My thighs ache.

Kindled.

Rocking in

your rhythm.

Restless.

The Wall is down.

Briefly.
My eyes
shifted.

I feel you
seeing me.
I see you

taking me.

Our eyes meet.

Expressions

are wild.

Heated.

Hear your

hands wandering

and my body

rising.

I hear my

panties rip.

Our skin sweats

together.

Steaming.

You are confident.

Steady.

I am burning.

Swiftly.

No breathing,

a quick familiar,

feeling. and

tightening,

tingling,

exhaling,

releasing.

You are dizzy.

I am surrendered.

Basking.

Intoxicated.