I have to keep my mouth shut.

[I prefer you]

The question is not

did we make a mistake?

the question is not
at all, more like I have a
question
in general, but i don't know what that means.

I guess we are like that, soft
usually. I guess I forgot some things though,
like the way that feels or how it can be
to trust
a human.

But the way you are is like the way your throat feels better after you drink tea when you are sick, even when you are the person who does not like tea, like we don't. Something between what things usually are like. But I remember and I know differently. But this does not change

how it feels
when humans love.

Folk Tales

I once heard a story about a girl who felt sadness and she wasn't a sad girl but she felt sadness and she had blue all inside her so when she cried for the first time ever she cried blue and couldn't stop. She cried so much it made all the oceans and turned them blue. She cried so much the oceans got full so the water turned to vapor and fell into the sky and turned the sky blue. She cried so much that when she stopped, she had no more tears left ever again. But when she went to the ocean and she looked at the sky, she remembered sadness and remembered being blue and felt warm again, knowing if nothing else, her sadness filled the whole world with something it needed.

In the beginning, there was excitement.

There was also doubt.

There has been along the way so much more to fill the anxiety, to make it rest, to help it along, to cultivate goodness, to tell our story. But somehow, I know how it will end, and somehow it ended just this way, and somehow I look back into words you probably never read and see myself as a broken sketch, a worry mark, a little girl singing "this little light of mine" holding a single candle and crying, and as many time as I say things, I never say much at all. And I haven't thought of you much, more thought just of the absence of you and curious about the absence of me. There is very little sadness. But there is a lot that is more than this.

In the beginning, there was excitement.

There was also doubt.

And when the doubt grew bigger, my excitement grew smaller, and now here I am and I know what I have to do but I fear desperately what comes next and I fear pretty badly how to reshape my life again and I fear all these things but not enough to keep me from doing them. I am like this, you know. Fear is only ever half hearted. I always know I am being taken care of, looked after, that the song inside me is just God's voice helping me along, that I would not make a choice that wasn't exactly the right one. I know there is not much here for you, but I have to keep some things to myself, I have to keep myself, I have to keep, I just have to.

I hope that when you look back on your life and when you were where I am now once again, you will remember me. And we will be holding hands and smiling somewhere, and we will have been a memory for you that shines forever, never fades with hatred like most people do. I hope that when you look back, you see it for what it was in the good times, for the good.

I just truly have nothing else to say.

Arguably, we could argue about this for days, go in circles with circular language about what roundness feels like, what it is to walk in circles, what it is to blow smoke rings and cry out about sad songs rather than let ourselves understand them, even just for a minute. I have been avoiding you in the darkness, have just been bumping around into other thoughts, knowing you were back there with that song about doing your best and out of all the times I've heard it, I remember sitting with you in the parking garage near the end most of all. It's hard to know what to say anymore.

Shut off from being shut down, I am back somewhere good. Self-judgment being at the root of why I haven't done something about all of this yet---- or is it loyalty or is it something else. I just refuse to let it be fear, I refuse to cripple, refuse to hinge, refuse to refuse, just feelings as they come.

Dreams and things...

Let's face it.

I haven't been writing because I can't/don't want to deal with thinking about the things I need to really think about and maybe part of that is a lack of ability to do that on my own anymore. I can't deal with all of it on my own anymore. A word that comes up when I mention things I need to talk about is "strong," when really I feel like the strongest thing I've done the last few days is say "maybe this is not something I can handle on my own." I have been having crazy memorable dreams about deleting my livejournal, frying eggs in the living room, having some teenage boys stab silver polished knives through my front door, and most recently a dream about having a lucid dream about my teeth falling out. I am talking to myself all the time and it's exhausting me.

I feel as I write this that it lacks authenticity, like even now I am writing with a shield, hoping to keep myself safe from saying too much, from too much self judgment, too much of things I shouldn't worry about when I write but that I always do. I am not feeling 'poetic' lately... I just feel super human. Not like SUPER HUMAN. But like I am hyper aware of how human I am and I am working really hard to reconcile this.



Anywhere I Lay My Head...

Heartbreak Hangover Pt. 1

The walls are lighter now, less of you, less of me, less of the usness that is haunting me, less of the usness that is useless to think of now. The walls are covered now in nothing but what used to be but should never be again, covered in the reminder of how some things go on for so long after they should end, covered in your cowardice and inability to say how you actually feel. And that's okay. Because I already knew.

If I could erase anybody, it would have to be you. I would be Jim Carrey, and you would have destroyed me. But this is not a movie. This is just me and I'm just here with my cat realizing it had been there all along, and I was so stubborn to hold on, and I was dumb to think of hope around my wrist as having power. It is what it is, really.

This is all that I will write of you, at least on purpose. You are not like the others. You do not get a future. You are gone now, nothing but a dream, nothing but a very distant memory, nothing but the fuzz between the stations. You don't get to have me. You get nothing.

Wish You Were Here.

Listening to a song that used to make me cry, a song I still can't hear around other people, a song that reminds me of a man before my time, a song that sings to me differently when I am sad and much differently since I stopped missing you years and years ago. We are in another world now: we are dinosaurs. We are listening to rock n roll on cold cement driveways. We are in love somewhere in memory, but not here. We have never been in love here. We have maybe never been in love really, but somewhere in the memory if you look at things like I will, you will see my face and yours in the soft moment before a first kiss. We will remember the slowness of things. I wish you were anywhere but here, but I am still floating in this moment remembering how love can make you cry. I am in the same place with somebody new, a million miles away from where it all began, from where the cosmos first flowed from our finger tips and wrote the original language of love. We are alive in that place eating spaghetti for breakfast.

[p]

Your tattoo sings this song when you are lonely, and others when you are glad. Your tattoo cries when it remembers losing to drug addiction or denying it, or denying pretty girls with big eyes, of all colors, girls with Canadian blood, girls with good taste in music, girls with no taste in music, girls with no lips, girls like grandmas, girls like the Beatles' "Here Comes the Sun," girls like me, girls like me, some girls like me. In the middle of things, we are metal hearts and logical. But when things are in the middle of us, we are lost in space, we are dying, we are hoping somebody finds us and shakes it out of us and lets us go before we need you. There are books about this. There are classes for this. But there is no problem with this, no matter what people tell you. I guess I thought you were trying to be different.

This is the loneliest moment so far. This is the longest without you. This is maybe the least wonderful thing. This is what people mean. This is why girls eat ice cream, this is why they never come back, because of this moment, because of this hurt, because who could forgive a boy who lets them feel this way?

Because they love you.

Because that's the most important.

The thing about me is I knowingly don't listen to anybody else. It's not because I don't value other people or respect their successes or wisdom. I don't listen because only I know what I need, what's good for me. Only I know in my heart what I need to do, how I need to do it.

Call it stubborn, or stupid, or being a control freak, but this is who I always have been. It's not a lack of willingness to change. The truth is, I have never exactly steered myself wrong.

I believe the divine light inside me is the guide. That is what I follow. Not some self-help book by somebody who has never met me before. Thanks, but I'm going to finish my teen fiction novel and get soda drunk.

How to lose a guy in less than 600 days, results guaranteed

Fall in love first.