I knew better.
I should have known better.
You'd think I'd know better
than to go falling for you.
I shouldn't let you linger in my head
or be inspired to write songs about you...
I shouldn't be haunted by your eyes-
I knew what I was getting myself into.
I knew that you were dangerous-
I told you that from the start...
I didn't want you to touch me
for fear of you ripping out my heart.
Yet I ignored my instincts
and told myself you were 'just fun'-
I've tried so many times to quit you
but there's nowhere for me to run.
I knew better.
I should have known better.
You'd think I'd know better
than to go falling for you.
Punish me, I deserve it-
tear out my heart, you know you're going to.
I knew better.
I should have known better.
You'd think I'd know better
than to go falling for you.
Each time you come back tempting me
and I can't tell you no-
you know how to get inside my brain...
now you're invading my soul.
When you're not here I think of you-
when you're here I don't want you to leave...
I'm so stupid for letting you get to me-
how could I have been so naive???
And how can you be so cruel to me
to let this carry on-
knowing that I can't let you go
yet, in the morning you'll be gone.
So go ahead, tear out my heart-
we both know you're going to...
I expect the pain, I expect the tears-
my punishment for falling for you.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Me Bein' Dirty (hahaha!)
There you are standin' in front of me
looking so incredible...
you look and smell and taste so good
I wonder if you're edible.
Lick you like a lollipop?
Lil' Wayne, get it right-
I wanna suck on you like a popsicle-
don't worry, baby, I don't bite.
Well.. not unless you like that sort of thing-
if so, I'll start to nibble...
I'll work my way all over your body,
until you start to tremble.
I'll lick you up and down
until you can't take it anymore-
then you can have your way with me-
on the bed, the counter, the floor.
I like it how you like, baby-
just tell me what you need...
doesn't matter, fast and hard
or keep it slow and sweet.
We can go all night or just for a while-
who's keepin' track of time?
Don't think about anything else, boy,
cause tonight you're all mine.
I wanna be your porn superstar,
fulfill all your fantasies...
use that power that you possess
and bring out the lil' devil in me.
looking so incredible...
you look and smell and taste so good
I wonder if you're edible.
Lick you like a lollipop?
Lil' Wayne, get it right-
I wanna suck on you like a popsicle-
don't worry, baby, I don't bite.
Well.. not unless you like that sort of thing-
if so, I'll start to nibble...
I'll work my way all over your body,
until you start to tremble.
I'll lick you up and down
until you can't take it anymore-
then you can have your way with me-
on the bed, the counter, the floor.
I like it how you like, baby-
just tell me what you need...
doesn't matter, fast and hard
or keep it slow and sweet.
We can go all night or just for a while-
who's keepin' track of time?
Don't think about anything else, boy,
cause tonight you're all mine.
I wanna be your porn superstar,
fulfill all your fantasies...
use that power that you possess
and bring out the lil' devil in me.
You're My Karma... For You
I've always heard that Karma's a bitch
and I've learned that the hard way so many times...
so you would think I would have known better
than to commit anymore karmic crimes.
But then that summer night you looked my way
and I wasn't sure why, but I knew it was wrong...
but the feel of your body dancing against mine
made me want time to stop to a never ending song.
The smell of your clothes, the heat of your skin,
your strong arms around me all night...
there was something about you that made me cautious
and yet the butterflies still took flight.
I tried so hard to turn you down
but your magnetism was too strong to resist...
and I knew I was wrong but I was hooked-
addicted upon first kiss.
So now you're my weakness, you're my addiction,
you're my pain... I have to make it through.
You're my payback- my heart is the fee ,
you're my karma for falling for you.
and I've learned that the hard way so many times...
so you would think I would have known better
than to commit anymore karmic crimes.
But then that summer night you looked my way
and I wasn't sure why, but I knew it was wrong...
but the feel of your body dancing against mine
made me want time to stop to a never ending song.
The smell of your clothes, the heat of your skin,
your strong arms around me all night...
there was something about you that made me cautious
and yet the butterflies still took flight.
I tried so hard to turn you down
but your magnetism was too strong to resist...
and I knew I was wrong but I was hooked-
addicted upon first kiss.
So now you're my weakness, you're my addiction,
you're my pain... I have to make it through.
You're my payback- my heart is the fee ,
you're my karma for falling for you.
Gypsy Thoughts
My gypsy soul is getting restless-
I've been in a coma for thirty-one years.
My heart longs to get out of this town-
forget the past, the pain, the tears.
Let's follow some railroad tracks
just to see where they go.
Let's get into my car and drive non-stop
listening to the radio and the wind blow.
We don't need a suitcase
some duffle bags will have to do-
let's pack some stuff and get out of this state,
leaving behind all we've been through.
Maybe we could hop on a Greyhound bus
choosing our destination with a dart-
follow the lines drawn out on a map...
follow our dreams, and our hearts.
Let's get out of here and find ourselves
somewhere outside of this big little town-
let fate and destiny be our guide,
and stop letting our fears hold us down...
Come on, baby, run away with me-
let's make our own place in this world.
Say you'll be my gypsy man-
and run away with this gypsy girl.
I've been in a coma for thirty-one years.
My heart longs to get out of this town-
forget the past, the pain, the tears.
Let's follow some railroad tracks
just to see where they go.
Let's get into my car and drive non-stop
listening to the radio and the wind blow.
We don't need a suitcase
some duffle bags will have to do-
let's pack some stuff and get out of this state,
leaving behind all we've been through.
Maybe we could hop on a Greyhound bus
choosing our destination with a dart-
follow the lines drawn out on a map...
follow our dreams, and our hearts.
Let's get out of here and find ourselves
somewhere outside of this big little town-
let fate and destiny be our guide,
and stop letting our fears hold us down...
Come on, baby, run away with me-
let's make our own place in this world.
Say you'll be my gypsy man-
and run away with this gypsy girl.
Caged Bird Singing
Trapped.
Confined.
Suffocated.
Imprisoned.
Caged.
Do you ever get the urge to just run away from everything? To just sell or throw away everything you own and take off in whichever direction you choose just to see where the road goes?
I want to run away. Run away from this dead-end job. Run away from the boredom of Lexington. Run away from the norm. Run away from the things that haunt me. Run away from this life and start a new one.
I've been wracking my brain for what seems like forever- trying to figure out what is missing from my life and how to turn my life into what I want it to be. No conclusions have been come to and I'm still at a loss. I still have no idea where I want to be and what I want to be doing with my life. I'll be 31 years old in two weeks and I have nothing to show for my time on this planet. No family. No career. No adventures. I have been walking around like a zombie since I came into this world and I yearn to LIVE.
How do you do that when you're flat broke and drive a piece of shit car that you can't even depend on to take you across town? Does being poor confine us to a life of dreary days with nothing to look forward to? Whether I live the life of a gypsy for six months or not- I know one thing... I've got to do something, anything, before I lose my mind.
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
Maya Angelou
"The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom."
Confined.
Suffocated.
Imprisoned.
Caged.
Do you ever get the urge to just run away from everything? To just sell or throw away everything you own and take off in whichever direction you choose just to see where the road goes?
I want to run away. Run away from this dead-end job. Run away from the boredom of Lexington. Run away from the norm. Run away from the things that haunt me. Run away from this life and start a new one.
I've been wracking my brain for what seems like forever- trying to figure out what is missing from my life and how to turn my life into what I want it to be. No conclusions have been come to and I'm still at a loss. I still have no idea where I want to be and what I want to be doing with my life. I'll be 31 years old in two weeks and I have nothing to show for my time on this planet. No family. No career. No adventures. I have been walking around like a zombie since I came into this world and I yearn to LIVE.
How do you do that when you're flat broke and drive a piece of shit car that you can't even depend on to take you across town? Does being poor confine us to a life of dreary days with nothing to look forward to? Whether I live the life of a gypsy for six months or not- I know one thing... I've got to do something, anything, before I lose my mind.
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
Maya Angelou
"The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom."
Questioning Life
Who am I?
What do I want out of life?
What do I expect from love?
What do I expect from myself?
The questions that all of us have asked ourselves throughout our lives... mostly still unanswered. Does anyone ever have the answers? From what I see- the majority of the population struggles with that inner battle of the heart and mind, wandering the world searching for hints, signs as to what they want, who they are. Most of the time when we get what we think we want, we still wonder. When does the questioning end and the enjoyment of life begin?
Who am I?
I am a walking contradiction. I am the girl next door, yet can be quite a diva when things don't seem to be going my way. I am sweet as sugar, but pretty sour when crossed. I am affectionate and loving but need space. I am independent but still needy. I am proud and strong but on the inside I am still the little girl crying for help. I am 'one of the boys' but still cry at chick flicks and crave the fairytale romance. I am a cynic yet still gullible. I trust no one but I still have that blind faith that all humans are good. I am an optimistic pessimist, I expect the worst but still hope for the best. I am a whirlwind of emotion but can come across as a cold-hearted bitch. I fit no definition, I fall into more than one stereotype. There is no solid answer of who I am- yet I just wrote it. How do you see me? How do you see yourself?
What do I want out of life?
I want simplicity, comfort, love, happiness, and fun. I want a real, deep, committed, unconditional relationship. I want to have a successful marriage one day. I want a family. I want the "American dream". I want to be financially comfortable. I want to travel. I want to see things that inspire me and leave me in awe. I want to be respected and to finally be rid of the 'white trash' shadow that has haunted me my whole life. I want to be known. I want to live each day as if it were my last and I want the resources that allow me to do that. I want to stop feeling caged- to no longer be trapped in this town, in this apartment, in this life. I want to love. I want to live. I want to love living!
What do I expect from love?
Again- my expectations are a contradiction. I try to not expect anything yet I always hope for that fairytale. I want to be swept off my feet. I want to feel like a woman and not a toy. I want to be worshiped, respected, spoiled, loved. I need romance. I need surprises. I need to have my breath taken away every now and then. I want to be missed when I'm not there. I want to be thought of. I want to be irreplaceable. I want to be the girl who makes his eyes light up when I walk into the room. I want to be the one that puts the smile on his face. I want to be treated as if I'm the only woman on the planet. I want it all.
What do I expect from myself?
I keep telling myself I can do better than I am. I tell myself I deserve better than what I get. But on the inside I don't think I truly believe it. I settle for mediocre. Why? Is it because I feel I'm not worthy of the best? I ask myself every day why my life has turned out the way it has. And I know it's because I have not pushed myself to my potential. Yet when I think about trying I'm too scared to put any thoughts into action because I have no faith in myself. I don't think I'm smart enough, or strong enough, or good enough. How do we change self-destructive behavior? Do we have to find the root of it to begin to understand it? Is it possible to change?
There really is no point to this note... I just felt the need to write. So with that I shall end this note with a few quotes.
"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it, and live along some distant day into the answer." ~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
"All men should strive to learn before they die
what they are running from, and to, and why."
~ James Thurber
"To the question of your life you are the answer, and to the problems of your life you are the solution." ~ Joe Cordare
"Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves." ~ Henry David Thoreau
"Trying to define yourself is like trying to bite your own teeth." ~ Alan Watts
"We run away all the time to avoid coming face to face with ourselves." ~ Author Unknown
"Your distress about life might mean you have been living for the wrong reason, not that you have no reason for living." ~ Tom O'Connor
"Few people know so clearly what they want. Most people can't even think what to hope for when they throw a penny in a fountain." ~ Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams
And my favorite- the one that is most inspirational to me right now...
"If you aren't sure who you are, you might as well work on who you want to be." ~ Robert Brault
What do I want out of life?
What do I expect from love?
What do I expect from myself?
The questions that all of us have asked ourselves throughout our lives... mostly still unanswered. Does anyone ever have the answers? From what I see- the majority of the population struggles with that inner battle of the heart and mind, wandering the world searching for hints, signs as to what they want, who they are. Most of the time when we get what we think we want, we still wonder. When does the questioning end and the enjoyment of life begin?
Who am I?
I am a walking contradiction. I am the girl next door, yet can be quite a diva when things don't seem to be going my way. I am sweet as sugar, but pretty sour when crossed. I am affectionate and loving but need space. I am independent but still needy. I am proud and strong but on the inside I am still the little girl crying for help. I am 'one of the boys' but still cry at chick flicks and crave the fairytale romance. I am a cynic yet still gullible. I trust no one but I still have that blind faith that all humans are good. I am an optimistic pessimist, I expect the worst but still hope for the best. I am a whirlwind of emotion but can come across as a cold-hearted bitch. I fit no definition, I fall into more than one stereotype. There is no solid answer of who I am- yet I just wrote it. How do you see me? How do you see yourself?
What do I want out of life?
I want simplicity, comfort, love, happiness, and fun. I want a real, deep, committed, unconditional relationship. I want to have a successful marriage one day. I want a family. I want the "American dream". I want to be financially comfortable. I want to travel. I want to see things that inspire me and leave me in awe. I want to be respected and to finally be rid of the 'white trash' shadow that has haunted me my whole life. I want to be known. I want to live each day as if it were my last and I want the resources that allow me to do that. I want to stop feeling caged- to no longer be trapped in this town, in this apartment, in this life. I want to love. I want to live. I want to love living!
What do I expect from love?
Again- my expectations are a contradiction. I try to not expect anything yet I always hope for that fairytale. I want to be swept off my feet. I want to feel like a woman and not a toy. I want to be worshiped, respected, spoiled, loved. I need romance. I need surprises. I need to have my breath taken away every now and then. I want to be missed when I'm not there. I want to be thought of. I want to be irreplaceable. I want to be the girl who makes his eyes light up when I walk into the room. I want to be the one that puts the smile on his face. I want to be treated as if I'm the only woman on the planet. I want it all.
What do I expect from myself?
I keep telling myself I can do better than I am. I tell myself I deserve better than what I get. But on the inside I don't think I truly believe it. I settle for mediocre. Why? Is it because I feel I'm not worthy of the best? I ask myself every day why my life has turned out the way it has. And I know it's because I have not pushed myself to my potential. Yet when I think about trying I'm too scared to put any thoughts into action because I have no faith in myself. I don't think I'm smart enough, or strong enough, or good enough. How do we change self-destructive behavior? Do we have to find the root of it to begin to understand it? Is it possible to change?
There really is no point to this note... I just felt the need to write. So with that I shall end this note with a few quotes.
"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it, and live along some distant day into the answer." ~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
"All men should strive to learn before they die
what they are running from, and to, and why."
~ James Thurber
"To the question of your life you are the answer, and to the problems of your life you are the solution." ~ Joe Cordare
"Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves." ~ Henry David Thoreau
"Trying to define yourself is like trying to bite your own teeth." ~ Alan Watts
"We run away all the time to avoid coming face to face with ourselves." ~ Author Unknown
"Your distress about life might mean you have been living for the wrong reason, not that you have no reason for living." ~ Tom O'Connor
"Few people know so clearly what they want. Most people can't even think what to hope for when they throw a penny in a fountain." ~ Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams
And my favorite- the one that is most inspirational to me right now...
"If you aren't sure who you are, you might as well work on who you want to be." ~ Robert Brault
Untitled (Writer's Block)
Don't look down upon me with disdain-
judgmental, cold eyes of steel...
seeking the weaknesses in my soul-
as if you're the devil waiting to make a deal.
Don't sit on your throne of contemptuous rage
belittling me for my faults...
knowing my unhappiness with myself-
you see the wounds and pour the salt.
Don't underestimate my intelligence
with your concealed insults and abuse.
I've toughened up over the years-
no longer breaking, I barely bruise.
judgmental, cold eyes of steel...
seeking the weaknesses in my soul-
as if you're the devil waiting to make a deal.
Don't sit on your throne of contemptuous rage
belittling me for my faults...
knowing my unhappiness with myself-
you see the wounds and pour the salt.
Don't underestimate my intelligence
with your concealed insults and abuse.
I've toughened up over the years-
no longer breaking, I barely bruise.
Seventeen
4 a.m., alone again, in front of this old computer screen...
playing songs that take me back to the days of seventeen.
I was young and wild- the taste of freedom exciting & new...
didn't have a care in the world... and all I wanted was you.
I gave you my heart that winter, gave you my soul that spring...
you gave me a key to keep around my neck, years later you gave me a ring.
We promised each other forever, not knowing forever just wouldn't be-
and now I sit here so many years later, ghosts of the past still haunting me.
Real love has evaded me since you, true emotion I can't seem to find.
I've been told that I'm too guarded, they tell me my wall is too high.
No one even dares to climb it, they damn sure don't try to tear it down-
I guess they know that once they cross it, your ghost is still around.
playing songs that take me back to the days of seventeen.
I was young and wild- the taste of freedom exciting & new...
didn't have a care in the world... and all I wanted was you.
I gave you my heart that winter, gave you my soul that spring...
you gave me a key to keep around my neck, years later you gave me a ring.
We promised each other forever, not knowing forever just wouldn't be-
and now I sit here so many years later, ghosts of the past still haunting me.
Real love has evaded me since you, true emotion I can't seem to find.
I've been told that I'm too guarded, they tell me my wall is too high.
No one even dares to climb it, they damn sure don't try to tear it down-
I guess they know that once they cross it, your ghost is still around.
Arsonist
To mention a spark in poetry is so cliche-
but we had a fire that could burn for days...
like gasoline fumes exploding with the spark of a match-
a heat so intense, too hot to get attached.
You're nothing but an arsonist who sees fire as his art-
you burned into my body, my soul, my heart.
A roaring fire was begun, you started the flame-
it was all too real to me- but to you, just a game...
you love starting the fire, yet refuse to put it out-
letting me burn into ashes, a blazing forest in a drought.
You leave no sign of foul play- you're a master at your art...
no traces you were ever here other than my scorched heart.
I'll no longer play with fire, I'm so tired of getting burned.
My soul has been left in ashes- my lesson has been learned.
but we had a fire that could burn for days...
like gasoline fumes exploding with the spark of a match-
a heat so intense, too hot to get attached.
You're nothing but an arsonist who sees fire as his art-
you burned into my body, my soul, my heart.
A roaring fire was begun, you started the flame-
it was all too real to me- but to you, just a game...
you love starting the fire, yet refuse to put it out-
letting me burn into ashes, a blazing forest in a drought.
You leave no sign of foul play- you're a master at your art...
no traces you were ever here other than my scorched heart.
I'll no longer play with fire, I'm so tired of getting burned.
My soul has been left in ashes- my lesson has been learned.
Thin Line
I love the way you look at me,
I love the way you smell.
I love your grin and your bright eyes.
I hate you! Go to hell!
I love the way you laugh,
I love the way you say my name.
I love it when I hear from you.
Fuck you! Stop playing games!
I love how no one else exists to me,
I love that you're always on my mind.
I love the way you touch me.
I'm sick of wasting my fucking time!
I love your sense of humor.
I love your charm and wit.
I love that you're intelligent.
You're an asshole & I'm tired of your shit!
I love that you make me laugh.
I love that you turn me on so much.
I love that you give me butterflies.
I don't want to long for your touch!
I love that you can't stay away from me.
I love that I can't leave you alone.
I love when you sleep next to me.
Don't ever call me again, go home!!!
I love it that we just seem to fit together.
I love how I feel when I'm with you.
I love it that you won't admit you're jealous sometimes.
Leave me alone, I'm through!!!!
I hate your fucking guts
and yet I love your fucking face.
You're the one I fucking hate to love.
You're the one I love to fucking hate!
I love the way you smell.
I love your grin and your bright eyes.
I hate you! Go to hell!
I love the way you laugh,
I love the way you say my name.
I love it when I hear from you.
Fuck you! Stop playing games!
I love how no one else exists to me,
I love that you're always on my mind.
I love the way you touch me.
I'm sick of wasting my fucking time!
I love your sense of humor.
I love your charm and wit.
I love that you're intelligent.
You're an asshole & I'm tired of your shit!
I love that you make me laugh.
I love that you turn me on so much.
I love that you give me butterflies.
I don't want to long for your touch!
I love that you can't stay away from me.
I love that I can't leave you alone.
I love when you sleep next to me.
Don't ever call me again, go home!!!
I love it that we just seem to fit together.
I love how I feel when I'm with you.
I love it that you won't admit you're jealous sometimes.
Leave me alone, I'm through!!!!
I hate your fucking guts
and yet I love your fucking face.
You're the one I fucking hate to love.
You're the one I love to fucking hate!
Nightmares
Waking up sobbing,
face covered in tears.
Sleep only exhausts me,
one night feels like years.
Sometimes the walking dead
appear in my dreams,
I don't want to leave them
but can't bring them back with me.
But usually it's just evil...
gunshots, blades, blood, and gore.
Someone's always chasing me,
there's always locked doors.
I can never see who it is,
yet I can never get away.
My sleeping hours are spent running,
out of breath, screaming... I wake.
I sit here now exhausted,
so sad and don't know why.
I remember the tears upon waking...
it's the only time I can cry.
face covered in tears.
Sleep only exhausts me,
one night feels like years.
Sometimes the walking dead
appear in my dreams,
I don't want to leave them
but can't bring them back with me.
But usually it's just evil...
gunshots, blades, blood, and gore.
Someone's always chasing me,
there's always locked doors.
I can never see who it is,
yet I can never get away.
My sleeping hours are spent running,
out of breath, screaming... I wake.
I sit here now exhausted,
so sad and don't know why.
I remember the tears upon waking...
it's the only time I can cry.
His Demons
He sees the demons
and tells us about them-
hanging on his shoulders
like Jack the Ripper's cloak.
They torture and mock him
and laugh in his face
because they know we can't see.
We can't stop questioning
whether he's lost his mind
or if he can really see
the dead,
walking among us,
tickling the backs of our necks,
and whispering evil
in our ears.
He sees them and hears them
and even calls them by name.
Jacob, Jedediah, Elizabeth...
how could such biblical names
be the root of such evil?
He says he's not crazy
and that they're really there.
He even shook their hands once.
Civil war soldiers
and Native American chiefs.
He says I'll inherit the curse
and he wants me to be prepared.
But how do you prep yourself
to go insane?
and tells us about them-
hanging on his shoulders
like Jack the Ripper's cloak.
They torture and mock him
and laugh in his face
because they know we can't see.
We can't stop questioning
whether he's lost his mind
or if he can really see
the dead,
walking among us,
tickling the backs of our necks,
and whispering evil
in our ears.
He sees them and hears them
and even calls them by name.
Jacob, Jedediah, Elizabeth...
how could such biblical names
be the root of such evil?
He says he's not crazy
and that they're really there.
He even shook their hands once.
Civil war soldiers
and Native American chiefs.
He says I'll inherit the curse
and he wants me to be prepared.
But how do you prep yourself
to go insane?
My Dream (RIP Ike Davis)
I had a dream last night
that you were still alive.
You were standing near me smiling
with a twinkle in your eyes.
You told me that you loved me
and I said I loved you too-
we embraced in a warm hug
and I told you how much I missed you.
You told me you were worried about me
because it was me that just got shot.
But I told you I was doing fine,
when in reality I'm not.
I told you I couldn't believe you were here
because you died so long ago,
but you said you hadn't really died-
you just had somewhere to go.
As we hugged one last time
I awoke to reality.
I looked around the room for you
but your face I did not see.
I realized it was just a dream
and that you were really gone-
my mind has understood this
but my heart just won't move on.
I still picture you at 13 years old
back when I saw you all the time-
and my heart always looks for you
although you are gone in my mind.
You were always my baby brother,
or least in my eyes-
and now when I remember those days
I can't help it but to cry.
I wish it could have stayed that way
and maybe you wouldn't be dead-
and I could see you again every day
and not just from the dreams in my head.
that you were still alive.
You were standing near me smiling
with a twinkle in your eyes.
You told me that you loved me
and I said I loved you too-
we embraced in a warm hug
and I told you how much I missed you.
You told me you were worried about me
because it was me that just got shot.
But I told you I was doing fine,
when in reality I'm not.
I told you I couldn't believe you were here
because you died so long ago,
but you said you hadn't really died-
you just had somewhere to go.
As we hugged one last time
I awoke to reality.
I looked around the room for you
but your face I did not see.
I realized it was just a dream
and that you were really gone-
my mind has understood this
but my heart just won't move on.
I still picture you at 13 years old
back when I saw you all the time-
and my heart always looks for you
although you are gone in my mind.
You were always my baby brother,
or least in my eyes-
and now when I remember those days
I can't help it but to cry.
I wish it could have stayed that way
and maybe you wouldn't be dead-
and I could see you again every day
and not just from the dreams in my head.
Friends Forever... Or Not
Deep conversations about
the meaning of life.
our future plans.
Who we want to be.
Where we want to go.
And our dreams.
Driving around town
doing nothing at all.
Seeing everything.
Talking to no one.
Yelling at everyone.
And getting nowhere.
What we said was
best friends forever.
Soul sisters always.
Water doesn't need a type to match like
blood does.
You'll be my friend for eternity.
But now you're gone.
And we see each other never.
Talk no more at all.
And I miss you-
my best friend.
the meaning of life.
our future plans.
Who we want to be.
Where we want to go.
And our dreams.
Driving around town
doing nothing at all.
Seeing everything.
Talking to no one.
Yelling at everyone.
And getting nowhere.
What we said was
best friends forever.
Soul sisters always.
Water doesn't need a type to match like
blood does.
You'll be my friend for eternity.
But now you're gone.
And we see each other never.
Talk no more at all.
And I miss you-
my best friend.
I Hope
I hope you're happy-
you broke my heart.
I hope you're satisfied-
I'm torn apart.
I hope your days are bright
while mine are filled with rain.
I hope your body is numb
while mine is filled with pain.
I hope you're having fun
while I cry myself to sleep.
I hope you're really in love.
Oh, God, it hurts so deep.
I hope you're in paradise
while I'm in a burning hell.
I hope you're thinking of me,
but if you were you'd never tell.
I hope your dreams come true
while mine are being shattered.
I hope your soul is at peace
while mine is torn and battered.
I hope you're wondering
what it's like to meet death-
and I'd tell you if I had the chance
but I now take my last breath.
I hope you have the chance to know
what it's like to say goodbye
to someone that you've loved for so long.
Goodbye, boy, I hope you cry.
you broke my heart.
I hope you're satisfied-
I'm torn apart.
I hope your days are bright
while mine are filled with rain.
I hope your body is numb
while mine is filled with pain.
I hope you're having fun
while I cry myself to sleep.
I hope you're really in love.
Oh, God, it hurts so deep.
I hope you're in paradise
while I'm in a burning hell.
I hope you're thinking of me,
but if you were you'd never tell.
I hope your dreams come true
while mine are being shattered.
I hope your soul is at peace
while mine is torn and battered.
I hope you're wondering
what it's like to meet death-
and I'd tell you if I had the chance
but I now take my last breath.
I hope you have the chance to know
what it's like to say goodbye
to someone that you've loved for so long.
Goodbye, boy, I hope you cry.
Nursing Home
Old, empty eyes
stare painfully at nothing.
Lost souls
wandering the halls of their cold "home".
Tiny rooms are their prison cells
until they pass on.
Some stay in the rooms
because they can't move their
old, fragile limbs.
Some call for help.
In the halls, some ask for directions.
Some try to escape
while other just sit
in their own painful worlds
remembering the old days
and wishing they weren't condemned
to where they are.
The stench of death in the air
drowns you and takes over your body.
Noises of hurt and confusion
fill your ears until you think
they might bleed.
So many wishes,
so many emotions,
so much abandonment,
so much pain,
so much death.
Wrinkled, frowning, sometimes swollen
faces stare at me
with the hope that I can help them.
But I can't
and it hurts.
It hurts not only because of my own pain,
but because I feel theirs also.
The pain of lost loves,
regrets, and apologies.
The confused frowns,
the unheard cries.
The tortured souls showing in their eyes.
stare painfully at nothing.
Lost souls
wandering the halls of their cold "home".
Tiny rooms are their prison cells
until they pass on.
Some stay in the rooms
because they can't move their
old, fragile limbs.
Some call for help.
In the halls, some ask for directions.
Some try to escape
while other just sit
in their own painful worlds
remembering the old days
and wishing they weren't condemned
to where they are.
The stench of death in the air
drowns you and takes over your body.
Noises of hurt and confusion
fill your ears until you think
they might bleed.
So many wishes,
so many emotions,
so much abandonment,
so much pain,
so much death.
Wrinkled, frowning, sometimes swollen
faces stare at me
with the hope that I can help them.
But I can't
and it hurts.
It hurts not only because of my own pain,
but because I feel theirs also.
The pain of lost loves,
regrets, and apologies.
The confused frowns,
the unheard cries.
The tortured souls showing in their eyes.
Grave Colored Glass
He nurses a bottle
as his wife cries a flood.
She's trying to hold on
to the man she once loved.
But he can't see her tears
through the grave colored glass-
he's too busy thinking of things
that happened in the past.
But you can't drown the sorrows
of a life that's gone wrong,
cause when you sober up again
the pain is ten times as strong.
So when you say that this drink
is going to be your last
just think of all that pain that's caused
by that grave colored glass.
He just can't understand
that drinking won't get him far,
so with beer in hand and cigarette lit
he gets into his car.
He speeds along the slippery roads
when he loses control of the wheel-
and the pain that once was in his mind
becomes terrifyingly real.
And as the life drains from his body
his future becomes his past...
he could have lived to see his daughter grow up
if it weren't for that grave colored glass.
So when you say that this drink
is going to be your last
just think of all the pain that's caused
by that grave colored glass.
as his wife cries a flood.
She's trying to hold on
to the man she once loved.
But he can't see her tears
through the grave colored glass-
he's too busy thinking of things
that happened in the past.
But you can't drown the sorrows
of a life that's gone wrong,
cause when you sober up again
the pain is ten times as strong.
So when you say that this drink
is going to be your last
just think of all that pain that's caused
by that grave colored glass.
He just can't understand
that drinking won't get him far,
so with beer in hand and cigarette lit
he gets into his car.
He speeds along the slippery roads
when he loses control of the wheel-
and the pain that once was in his mind
becomes terrifyingly real.
And as the life drains from his body
his future becomes his past...
he could have lived to see his daughter grow up
if it weren't for that grave colored glass.
So when you say that this drink
is going to be your last
just think of all the pain that's caused
by that grave colored glass.
What You Said
You said there was "just something" about me
your friends said the same thing, too...
you said there was something in the way I walked,
something about the way I looked at you.
You said that things were almost over-
you said you were done with her...
you said you had never played around-
because of that "something", I was the first.
You said you two lived towns apart,
you said things with her would be over soon.
You said you didn't get to see her much...
all of those words were spoken in June.
You said that you felt horrible,
you said you had never been the cheating kind.
You said you knew that you were wrong-
convinced me that you really were a decent guy.
You said that you really loved her,
you said you weren't sure why you turned to me.
You said you enjoyed our time together...
"great conversation and good company".
You said you could make me fall in love with you,
you said doing that would be easy.
You said things that made me laugh, made me think-
and everything you said I believed.
You said things were finally over between you,
you said things that got into my head.
I should have listened to my gut and my heart-
and not to the bullshit YOU said.
your friends said the same thing, too...
you said there was something in the way I walked,
something about the way I looked at you.
You said that things were almost over-
you said you were done with her...
you said you had never played around-
because of that "something", I was the first.
You said you two lived towns apart,
you said things with her would be over soon.
You said you didn't get to see her much...
all of those words were spoken in June.
You said that you felt horrible,
you said you had never been the cheating kind.
You said you knew that you were wrong-
convinced me that you really were a decent guy.
You said that you really loved her,
you said you weren't sure why you turned to me.
You said you enjoyed our time together...
"great conversation and good company".
You said you could make me fall in love with you,
you said doing that would be easy.
You said things that made me laugh, made me think-
and everything you said I believed.
You said things were finally over between you,
you said things that got into my head.
I should have listened to my gut and my heart-
and not to the bullshit YOU said.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Unattainable Beauty
So here's something for my few readers to chew on...
what do YOU consider beautiful? Is it the chiseled body and porcelain doll features of celebrities like Jennifer Lopez, Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, Angelina Jolie, etc? Is it the pefect abs and skin you see on the cover and in every page of Maxim or Cosmo magazine? How about the small waists and long legs?
How many of you can actually say that you would prefer a beautiful, womanly, voluptuous woman like Kirsty Alley over the Paris Hilton's of today? Honestly?
Why are women subjected to such self-torture nowadays thanks to the media? Do people (men mostly) honestly expect us to look like the plastic celebritites that drown us daily in television, magazines, and internet? And ladies- how can we possibly expect to fall for it?
I know personally growing up I have always been "thick". Not what some call fat by any means but I've never been what our society considers "thin". (Well, once when I was between 15 thru 17 but that didn't last once my real hormones kicked in.) I heard it my whole life because most people are rude enough to point out when "you're ass is getting big", or "damn, you've gained weight!". So my whole life I've had this horrible self-image that I was less than worthy of being called "beautfiul" or "sexy". To this day I have a hard time accepting compliments when someone says something like that.
But why? Why do we allow ourselves such low self-esteem, such a negative self-worth? Because we want to be loved, that's why.
Did you know that the diet industry is worth $100 billion dollars? And to quote an article I just read "On the other hand, research indicates that exposure to images of thin, young, air-brushed female bodies is linked to depression, loss of self-esteem and the development of unhealthy eating habits in women and girls." And then we wonder why anorexia and bulimia are such common occurences. 90% of the sufferers of these disorders are... you guessed it... women! And this has been going on for decades, yet we continue to feed the little girls and impressionable teens in our country the bullshit pictures and ideals that us females are supposed to be perfect size 5's or size 2's or whatever. Will it ever stop?
The fashion industry, diet industry, plastic surgeons, and cosmetic industry are booming because of our low self-esteem. And it's all because we simply want to be loved.
Men, tell the ladies you know how beautiful they are. If you enjoy seeing a voluptuous woman, tell them. Lord knows we don't hear it enough.
what do YOU consider beautiful? Is it the chiseled body and porcelain doll features of celebrities like Jennifer Lopez, Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, Angelina Jolie, etc? Is it the pefect abs and skin you see on the cover and in every page of Maxim or Cosmo magazine? How about the small waists and long legs?
How many of you can actually say that you would prefer a beautiful, womanly, voluptuous woman like Kirsty Alley over the Paris Hilton's of today? Honestly?
Why are women subjected to such self-torture nowadays thanks to the media? Do people (men mostly) honestly expect us to look like the plastic celebritites that drown us daily in television, magazines, and internet? And ladies- how can we possibly expect to fall for it?
I know personally growing up I have always been "thick". Not what some call fat by any means but I've never been what our society considers "thin". (Well, once when I was between 15 thru 17 but that didn't last once my real hormones kicked in.) I heard it my whole life because most people are rude enough to point out when "you're ass is getting big", or "damn, you've gained weight!". So my whole life I've had this horrible self-image that I was less than worthy of being called "beautfiul" or "sexy". To this day I have a hard time accepting compliments when someone says something like that.
But why? Why do we allow ourselves such low self-esteem, such a negative self-worth? Because we want to be loved, that's why.
Did you know that the diet industry is worth $100 billion dollars? And to quote an article I just read "On the other hand, research indicates that exposure to images of thin, young, air-brushed female bodies is linked to depression, loss of self-esteem and the development of unhealthy eating habits in women and girls." And then we wonder why anorexia and bulimia are such common occurences. 90% of the sufferers of these disorders are... you guessed it... women! And this has been going on for decades, yet we continue to feed the little girls and impressionable teens in our country the bullshit pictures and ideals that us females are supposed to be perfect size 5's or size 2's or whatever. Will it ever stop?
The fashion industry, diet industry, plastic surgeons, and cosmetic industry are booming because of our low self-esteem. And it's all because we simply want to be loved.
Men, tell the ladies you know how beautiful they are. If you enjoy seeing a voluptuous woman, tell them. Lord knows we don't hear it enough.
My Addiction
I know I should have never
inhaled you into my soul.
The taste of you should have never
touched my lips
or left such a tingling to linger
on my tongue.
In such a time as this
with all of the drama
in my life-
thoughts of you are
the only thing to put
a smile on my face.
If anyone found out
my little secret -
especially him-
it would drastically change
my life forever.
It could possibly destroy
everything I have worked
so hard for.
But knowing this
does not deter my feelings
about you.
Its as if you have given me
the emotional strength
to not see the negative
in what I am doing.
When I am awake
all I can do is think of you.
When I am asleep
all I can do is dream of you.
The thought of seeing you
takes my breath
and impure thoughts
start running through my mind.
Oh, to breathe you in again
and to have the taste of you
on my tongue.
You are my new addiction...
my cocaine.
inhaled you into my soul.
The taste of you should have never
touched my lips
or left such a tingling to linger
on my tongue.
In such a time as this
with all of the drama
in my life-
thoughts of you are
the only thing to put
a smile on my face.
If anyone found out
my little secret -
especially him-
it would drastically change
my life forever.
It could possibly destroy
everything I have worked
so hard for.
But knowing this
does not deter my feelings
about you.
Its as if you have given me
the emotional strength
to not see the negative
in what I am doing.
When I am awake
all I can do is think of you.
When I am asleep
all I can do is dream of you.
The thought of seeing you
takes my breath
and impure thoughts
start running through my mind.
Oh, to breathe you in again
and to have the taste of you
on my tongue.
You are my new addiction...
my cocaine.
After All
After all these years,
after all the tears,
why do I still long for you?
After all the pain,
left out in the rain,
why do I still think of you?
After my soul ached,
after the heart break,
why do I still love you?
After all the notes,
and poems I wrote,
why do I still not know
why?
After all these years...
after all the tears,
why do I still long for you?
After all the pain,
left out in the rain,
why do I still think of you?
After my soul ached,
after the heart break,
why do I still love you?
After all the notes,
and poems I wrote,
why do I still not know
why?
After all these years...
Love Me
Love me
for who I am,
not who you think I should be.
for my dreams.
for what you don't know about me.
for my somewhat childish ways.
because I'm a little crazy sometimes.
for my many moods you've never seen.
for my hidden tears and scarred heart.
because I'm a little sad all the time for
the many pains in the world.
for the mind I rarely show.
for my belief in odd things.
for the many things going through my
mind every second of the day.
for the little girl in me who is too
terrified to grow up.
for the woman in me who wants to
explore the world.
when I'm at my best.
when you see my worst.
for the immature way I act sometimes.
because I am kind.
because I don't always win.
for the things I do not know.
for the things I do that you don't
always agree with.
for who I was in the past.
for what I might become in the future.
for my devotion.
because I seek the truth but
rarely want to hear it.
because I hurt sometimes.
because I'm afraid to show my feelings.
for my somewhat stubborn ways.
for my pride that sometimes makes me act
foolish.
for my curiosity.
for being here.
for loving you.
Love me,
for me.
for who I am,
not who you think I should be.
for my dreams.
for what you don't know about me.
for my somewhat childish ways.
because I'm a little crazy sometimes.
for my many moods you've never seen.
for my hidden tears and scarred heart.
because I'm a little sad all the time for
the many pains in the world.
for the mind I rarely show.
for my belief in odd things.
for the many things going through my
mind every second of the day.
for the little girl in me who is too
terrified to grow up.
for the woman in me who wants to
explore the world.
when I'm at my best.
when you see my worst.
for the immature way I act sometimes.
because I am kind.
because I don't always win.
for the things I do not know.
for the things I do that you don't
always agree with.
for who I was in the past.
for what I might become in the future.
for my devotion.
because I seek the truth but
rarely want to hear it.
because I hurt sometimes.
because I'm afraid to show my feelings.
for my somewhat stubborn ways.
for my pride that sometimes makes me act
foolish.
for my curiosity.
for being here.
for loving you.
Love me,
for me.
Please Wake Me
I would love to write a poem,
a prose, a story, a verse...
about this nightmare I can't awake from,
about all the things that hurt.
I think I fell asleep a few years ago
and since then have gone through hell.
Someone wake me from this nightmare!
Someone tell me it's not real!
When I wake up my life will be back,
my youth, my family, everything I had.
I'll realize it was all just all a bad dream,
I'll wake up and see my dad.
He'll be smiling at me sober,
sitting beside me holding my hand.
He'll wipe my brow and say "good morning sissy"
you were in a far away land.
You tossed and turned during most of your sleep
and cried a lot of tears.
But daddy's here, it's okay baby-
there's nothing left to fear."
When I wake up I'll be in my room,
I'm still young, still just sixteen.
The only cares I have in this world
are trying to follow my dreams.
When I wake up mom will be cooking,
granny will be in the living room.
Dad will have finished working on the car
and Bobbie will be coming over soon.
I'll wake up and get ready for work
at the fast food place in the mall.
I'll go to work, then come home where it's warm,
give my boyfriend a call.
I'll go to bed again only to wake up
to have coffee in the morning with dad.
I'll make breakfast for granny (she loves turkey bacon)
and I'll no longer be sad.
But the problem is, I am awake.
I'm damn near 30 years old.
Granny's long gone, dad's voice no more-
all the coffee has long since turned cold.
Tears are still falling, yet I'm not asleep.
This is a nightmare from which I'll never wake.
Please dear Lord, give me strength to get through this
it's all the pain I can take.
a prose, a story, a verse...
about this nightmare I can't awake from,
about all the things that hurt.
I think I fell asleep a few years ago
and since then have gone through hell.
Someone wake me from this nightmare!
Someone tell me it's not real!
When I wake up my life will be back,
my youth, my family, everything I had.
I'll realize it was all just all a bad dream,
I'll wake up and see my dad.
He'll be smiling at me sober,
sitting beside me holding my hand.
He'll wipe my brow and say "good morning sissy"
you were in a far away land.
You tossed and turned during most of your sleep
and cried a lot of tears.
But daddy's here, it's okay baby-
there's nothing left to fear."
When I wake up I'll be in my room,
I'm still young, still just sixteen.
The only cares I have in this world
are trying to follow my dreams.
When I wake up mom will be cooking,
granny will be in the living room.
Dad will have finished working on the car
and Bobbie will be coming over soon.
I'll wake up and get ready for work
at the fast food place in the mall.
I'll go to work, then come home where it's warm,
give my boyfriend a call.
I'll go to bed again only to wake up
to have coffee in the morning with dad.
I'll make breakfast for granny (she loves turkey bacon)
and I'll no longer be sad.
But the problem is, I am awake.
I'm damn near 30 years old.
Granny's long gone, dad's voice no more-
all the coffee has long since turned cold.
Tears are still falling, yet I'm not asleep.
This is a nightmare from which I'll never wake.
Please dear Lord, give me strength to get through this
it's all the pain I can take.
My Angel Baby
To my son I'll never hold,
who's eyes I'll never see.
The baby who never got to feel
the loving touch from me.
I'll never know if you had dimples,
never get to see you grin.
I'll never get to hear your laugh,
never see if you had a dimple on your chin.
I'll never get to hear you say mama,
never know if daddy would be your first word.
All I know is that there is now a void,
nothing can ever heal this hurt.
I'll never get to hold your tiny hand
as I teach you to cross a street.
Daddy will never get to teach you to ride a bike,
or how to climb a tree.
I'll never get to answer your silly questions,
or wipe your tears when you cry.
I'll never get to kiss your hurts away
or teach you to get the kite to fly.
We'll never have your first Christmas,
never dress you for your first Halloween.
Now I only have my 5 month of memories of you
filled with hopes and dreams.
For the 20 weeks you were in my womb
you found a place in my heart.
You had become a piece of my soul
and it has now been ripped apart.
I saw you but didn't even get to meet you,
didn't get to feel your tiny touch.
And yet I can't seem to stop these tears
because I already miss you so much.
Goodbye my little angel bear.
Aiden Blaine Rose - you will always be my first.
And no matter how many come along after you-
for you my heart will always hurt.
May God hold you in His hands
and protect you with His loving grace.
And I hope when I get there you'll remember me
so I can finally kiss your face.
who's eyes I'll never see.
The baby who never got to feel
the loving touch from me.
I'll never know if you had dimples,
never get to see you grin.
I'll never get to hear your laugh,
never see if you had a dimple on your chin.
I'll never get to hear you say mama,
never know if daddy would be your first word.
All I know is that there is now a void,
nothing can ever heal this hurt.
I'll never get to hold your tiny hand
as I teach you to cross a street.
Daddy will never get to teach you to ride a bike,
or how to climb a tree.
I'll never get to answer your silly questions,
or wipe your tears when you cry.
I'll never get to kiss your hurts away
or teach you to get the kite to fly.
We'll never have your first Christmas,
never dress you for your first Halloween.
Now I only have my 5 month of memories of you
filled with hopes and dreams.
For the 20 weeks you were in my womb
you found a place in my heart.
You had become a piece of my soul
and it has now been ripped apart.
I saw you but didn't even get to meet you,
didn't get to feel your tiny touch.
And yet I can't seem to stop these tears
because I already miss you so much.
Goodbye my little angel bear.
Aiden Blaine Rose - you will always be my first.
And no matter how many come along after you-
for you my heart will always hurt.
May God hold you in His hands
and protect you with His loving grace.
And I hope when I get there you'll remember me
so I can finally kiss your face.
Watch Over Me
I look up at the sky, the clouds, the moon,
and even wish upon a star.
Can you see me from Heaven?
Is that where you are?
Are you holding my baby boy?
Has he grown his angel wings?
Has he given you a smile,
the one I'll never see?
Have you taken him fishing
like you said you were going to do?
Does he look like me or Logan,
does he resemble you?
Are his eyes as black as coal
just like I wanted them to be?
Or are they blue just like his daddy's?
Does he have dimples in his cheeks?
Have you told him any stories yet?
Have you held his little hand?
Have you told him who his mommy is
and how his daddy is a great man?
Have you gotten to meet Jesus?
Does he hold my baby boy?
Does my angel baby giggle
while he plays with Heaven's toys?
Does he know that you're his Pa-paw
and that I was your little girl?
Do you know how I much I miss you both?
Does he know he was my world?
Does he know his mommy loves him?
Does he know his daddy does too?
Please give my angel kisses for me,
and know I love both of you.
and even wish upon a star.
Can you see me from Heaven?
Is that where you are?
Are you holding my baby boy?
Has he grown his angel wings?
Has he given you a smile,
the one I'll never see?
Have you taken him fishing
like you said you were going to do?
Does he look like me or Logan,
does he resemble you?
Are his eyes as black as coal
just like I wanted them to be?
Or are they blue just like his daddy's?
Does he have dimples in his cheeks?
Have you told him any stories yet?
Have you held his little hand?
Have you told him who his mommy is
and how his daddy is a great man?
Have you gotten to meet Jesus?
Does he hold my baby boy?
Does my angel baby giggle
while he plays with Heaven's toys?
Does he know that you're his Pa-paw
and that I was your little girl?
Do you know how I much I miss you both?
Does he know he was my world?
Does he know his mommy loves him?
Does he know his daddy does too?
Please give my angel kisses for me,
and know I love both of you.
A moment...
Two-dimensional, nothing is real-
Living from the opposite side of the mirror...
I watch and study and search myself
but nothing seems to get clearer.
Colors too dull, noises too loud-
everything has lost it's appeal...
I try to reach out, try to scream
wanting so badly to feel.
I hear myself laughing and wonder why-
because on the inside no laughter is felt...
I try to look on the positive side
and make the most of the hand I've been dealt.
But my soul has been lost in the looking glass-
and my real self is dazed, staring in.
Wondering if life will ever be "normal"
and if I'll ever be just ME again.
Living from the opposite side of the mirror...
I watch and study and search myself
but nothing seems to get clearer.
Colors too dull, noises too loud-
everything has lost it's appeal...
I try to reach out, try to scream
wanting so badly to feel.
I hear myself laughing and wonder why-
because on the inside no laughter is felt...
I try to look on the positive side
and make the most of the hand I've been dealt.
But my soul has been lost in the looking glass-
and my real self is dazed, staring in.
Wondering if life will ever be "normal"
and if I'll ever be just ME again.
Wonderland
"I think you are in love with me"
you say slyly, like a child
who knows a secret.
"You just don’t want to admit it"
"I just want to hear you say it"
you declare, like the cheshire cat
who knows exactly what I’m feeling.
"I could die tomorrow"
But what if I admit it?
What if I come clean and tell you
that I can’t stop thinking about you
and that I miss you so much it aches.
What if I make a list of all the things
that I truly love about you
and give it to you
wrapped up in my heart
with scented paper and painted rose petals?
What if I were to tell you that I’ve fallen
down a hole of emotion
like Alice chasing the rabbit,
and that I haven’t felt things like this
for as long as I can remember?
What if I told you I’m terrified
that if I say it out loud
my words will turn my emotions
into solid form
and they will be dropped
like a cheap bottle of perfume
shattering all over the ground.
What will that accomplish in your eyes?
Will it mean that you’ve won the challenge
and the game will be over?
Will it stroke your ego so that
you can say you made one more fall?
Or will it mean that somehow
a magic solution will appear
like Alice’s mushroom-
and if I take that bite, take the bait
I will grow strong enough to face my fears
and end the conflicts I face?
Just give me time
and help me believe that I won’t awaken
under a shade tree in the lightning...
and maybe- just maybe-
I’ll take that bite.
you say slyly, like a child
who knows a secret.
"You just don’t want to admit it"
"I just want to hear you say it"
you declare, like the cheshire cat
who knows exactly what I’m feeling.
"I could die tomorrow"
But what if I admit it?
What if I come clean and tell you
that I can’t stop thinking about you
and that I miss you so much it aches.
What if I make a list of all the things
that I truly love about you
and give it to you
wrapped up in my heart
with scented paper and painted rose petals?
What if I were to tell you that I’ve fallen
down a hole of emotion
like Alice chasing the rabbit,
and that I haven’t felt things like this
for as long as I can remember?
What if I told you I’m terrified
that if I say it out loud
my words will turn my emotions
into solid form
and they will be dropped
like a cheap bottle of perfume
shattering all over the ground.
What will that accomplish in your eyes?
Will it mean that you’ve won the challenge
and the game will be over?
Will it stroke your ego so that
you can say you made one more fall?
Or will it mean that somehow
a magic solution will appear
like Alice’s mushroom-
and if I take that bite, take the bait
I will grow strong enough to face my fears
and end the conflicts I face?
Just give me time
and help me believe that I won’t awaken
under a shade tree in the lightning...
and maybe- just maybe-
I’ll take that bite.
Imperfect
Ya know,
I guess the
one
good thing
about being
IMPERFECT
is that you don’t have
very high standards
to live up to.
People don’t expect much
out of you
if you’re
constantly
FUCKING UP.
How can they expect
you
to do better
than they
think
you can?
So when you actually
do
get something
RIGHT,
they are pleasantly
surprised.
That’s not so bad now…
is it?
I think I want to
remain
I
M P
E R
F E
C
T
just so I can keep making people
SMILE
when I know
I got it
right
JUST
THIS
ONCE.
I guess the
one
good thing
about being
IMPERFECT
is that you don’t have
very high standards
to live up to.
People don’t expect much
out of you
if you’re
constantly
FUCKING UP.
How can they expect
you
to do better
than they
think
you can?
So when you actually
do
get something
RIGHT,
they are pleasantly
surprised.
That’s not so bad now…
is it?
I think I want to
remain
I
M P
E R
F E
C
T
just so I can keep making people
SMILE
when I know
I got it
right
JUST
THIS
ONCE.
The many sides of me...
Almost 4 a.m. and I'm wide awake. Boy, these two weeks off sure have my sleeping schedule screwed up. I'm a natural night-owl by birth so when I know I don't have to do the corporate zombie 8 - 4:30 work day I go right back in to my natural nocturnal habits. Kinda sucks cause no one else is awake to entertain me. But in the same sense it is kind of a good thing because this is my thinking time. My "me time" so to speak. And this brings me to the conclusion that I have multiple personalities. But I have also come to the conclusion that my main personality is that of a sluggish chick who is too lazy to do anything about the other sides of me. Not making sense? Okay, let me explain...
I have a lazy side, an ambitious side, a dreamer side, a domesticated side, etc...
My ambitious side wants to go to school. I want to study writing. I want to study criminal justice. Maybe even some psychology, sociology, forensics, and throw in some computer classes for shits and giggles. I want to learn all the cool stuff that interests me. I don't really have a degree in mind but I need something to stimulate my intellect. I'm so bored with what little bit I know, and I need to meet people who make me think. I want to figure out a career that will actually make me happy and keep me satisfied instead of drudging to a job that I'm ok with but I only work at just to barely pay my bills. At least if I was happy at my job being broke would be a bit more tolerable. I want to do SOMETHING. Right now I'm just a UK drone who wakes up, goes to work, does only what is necessary to keep my job, and repeats. I have no passion but I crave it. Problem is, I don't know what that career path would be. I'm almost 30 years old- shouldn't I have figured this out by now?
My dreamer side wants to travel the world. I want to go to Ireland to see the lush hills and beautiful scenery. I want to experience the romance of Paris and feel the historical wonders in Italy and have a blast at all of the little stupid tourist attractions in the United States. I want to see the pyramids. I want to see a smoking volcano. I want my picture taken in front of a huge, beautiful castle. I want to see the sun rise over the ocean in the east and watch it set over the ocean in the west. I want to yell into the Grand Canyon just to see how loud it echoes. I want to see the Hollywood sign in person, not just in pictures. I want to see the skyscrapers of New York City. I want to feel the culture of Asia and buy a silk kimono just to wear around my house for the hell of it. I want to take in everything our world has to offer. But this takes money, which I don't have. It also takes a bit of nerve on my behalf because traveling kinda scares the shit out of me. Nashville was too big of a city for me and made me nervous- could you imagine how a foreign country where I don't know the language would make me feel? Two words... panic attack. Hahaha!
The domesticated side of me wants a beautiful home, a loving husband, two children, the family dog, and the picket fence. The American dream. I want to fill the void in me that has been there since I lost my son. I want the peaceful domesticated life with love and security and comfort. I want the excitement that you can only feel when you look into your child's face at Christmas, and having fun with my children on Halloween. I want to help them make Valentine's for their classmates, and make them cupcakes with colorful hearts to take to school. I want to color Easter eggs and make messes with them and giggle until our bellies hurt. I want to tell bedtime stories and tuck them in and teach them to say their prayers. And at the end of the day I want to cuddle up with the man of my dreams on my couch next to a roaring fireplace.
So how does an almost 30 year old woman accomplish everything that each side of her personality craves? Where would I even begin on the path to attaining even a small piece of what my heart desires? A new year is coming and with it I want new changes. I want to be mentally stimulated, satisfied with what life gives me, and happy with the path I am on. The lazy side of me is going to have to take a seat in the back while my other personalities get their say for once. Now if I just can figure out how to get started and stay motivated...
I have a lazy side, an ambitious side, a dreamer side, a domesticated side, etc...
My ambitious side wants to go to school. I want to study writing. I want to study criminal justice. Maybe even some psychology, sociology, forensics, and throw in some computer classes for shits and giggles. I want to learn all the cool stuff that interests me. I don't really have a degree in mind but I need something to stimulate my intellect. I'm so bored with what little bit I know, and I need to meet people who make me think. I want to figure out a career that will actually make me happy and keep me satisfied instead of drudging to a job that I'm ok with but I only work at just to barely pay my bills. At least if I was happy at my job being broke would be a bit more tolerable. I want to do SOMETHING. Right now I'm just a UK drone who wakes up, goes to work, does only what is necessary to keep my job, and repeats. I have no passion but I crave it. Problem is, I don't know what that career path would be. I'm almost 30 years old- shouldn't I have figured this out by now?
My dreamer side wants to travel the world. I want to go to Ireland to see the lush hills and beautiful scenery. I want to experience the romance of Paris and feel the historical wonders in Italy and have a blast at all of the little stupid tourist attractions in the United States. I want to see the pyramids. I want to see a smoking volcano. I want my picture taken in front of a huge, beautiful castle. I want to see the sun rise over the ocean in the east and watch it set over the ocean in the west. I want to yell into the Grand Canyon just to see how loud it echoes. I want to see the Hollywood sign in person, not just in pictures. I want to see the skyscrapers of New York City. I want to feel the culture of Asia and buy a silk kimono just to wear around my house for the hell of it. I want to take in everything our world has to offer. But this takes money, which I don't have. It also takes a bit of nerve on my behalf because traveling kinda scares the shit out of me. Nashville was too big of a city for me and made me nervous- could you imagine how a foreign country where I don't know the language would make me feel? Two words... panic attack. Hahaha!
The domesticated side of me wants a beautiful home, a loving husband, two children, the family dog, and the picket fence. The American dream. I want to fill the void in me that has been there since I lost my son. I want the peaceful domesticated life with love and security and comfort. I want the excitement that you can only feel when you look into your child's face at Christmas, and having fun with my children on Halloween. I want to help them make Valentine's for their classmates, and make them cupcakes with colorful hearts to take to school. I want to color Easter eggs and make messes with them and giggle until our bellies hurt. I want to tell bedtime stories and tuck them in and teach them to say their prayers. And at the end of the day I want to cuddle up with the man of my dreams on my couch next to a roaring fireplace.
So how does an almost 30 year old woman accomplish everything that each side of her personality craves? Where would I even begin on the path to attaining even a small piece of what my heart desires? A new year is coming and with it I want new changes. I want to be mentally stimulated, satisfied with what life gives me, and happy with the path I am on. The lazy side of me is going to have to take a seat in the back while my other personalities get their say for once. Now if I just can figure out how to get started and stay motivated...
Passion
A heat Ive never known flows through me,
I feel the flame of lust ignite,
Baby take me in your arms
And make me climb the walls tonight.
Im feeling a little mischievous,
Naughty is my middle name
I want to make you feel alive-
Lets play some grown-up games
I know youre feeling the same way I do-
To hell with morals tonight.
I want you and I know you want me
So why are we putting up a fight?
Lets get raw, lets get dirty
Lets make each other sweat
I want to make you cry my name
make the neighbors want a cigarette.
Bring out the oils, play some slow jams,
Light a candle or two
Tonight lets just forget the world
Its only me and you.
Heartbeat to heartbeat, breath to breath,
The heat of your body on mine-
My legs wrapping around your waist,
Our fingers intertwined.
Lets break down our walls, break down the bed,
break each other in
Lets be deviant, lets be decadent-
To hell with consequence
I know youre feeling the same way I do-
To hell with morals tonight.
I want you and I know you want me
So why are we putting up a fight?
Lets get raw, lets get dirty
Lets make each other sweat
I want to make you cry my name
make the neighbors want a cigarette.
Lets get raw, lets get dirty
Lets make each other sweat
I want to make you cry my name
make the neighbors want a cigarette.....
I feel the flame of lust ignite,
Baby take me in your arms
And make me climb the walls tonight.
Im feeling a little mischievous,
Naughty is my middle name
I want to make you feel alive-
Lets play some grown-up games
I know youre feeling the same way I do-
To hell with morals tonight.
I want you and I know you want me
So why are we putting up a fight?
Lets get raw, lets get dirty
Lets make each other sweat
I want to make you cry my name
make the neighbors want a cigarette.
Bring out the oils, play some slow jams,
Light a candle or two
Tonight lets just forget the world
Its only me and you.
Heartbeat to heartbeat, breath to breath,
The heat of your body on mine-
My legs wrapping around your waist,
Our fingers intertwined.
Lets break down our walls, break down the bed,
break each other in
Lets be deviant, lets be decadent-
To hell with consequence
I know youre feeling the same way I do-
To hell with morals tonight.
I want you and I know you want me
So why are we putting up a fight?
Lets get raw, lets get dirty
Lets make each other sweat
I want to make you cry my name
make the neighbors want a cigarette.
Lets get raw, lets get dirty
Lets make each other sweat
I want to make you cry my name
make the neighbors want a cigarette.....
Untitled
Tell me why I cry inside
every time you walk away...
wishing I could find the words
but I don't know what to say...
hoping that you'll turn around,
praying that you'll stay...
exhausted from this emotional war,
tired of the games you play.
Why don't you just turn around
and look into my eyes?
See how bad you hurt me, babe...
how much you make me cry.
I can't make the tears go away-
believe me boy, I've tried.
Why you don't just turn around
and watch me die inside...
every time you walk away...
wishing I could find the words
but I don't know what to say...
hoping that you'll turn around,
praying that you'll stay...
exhausted from this emotional war,
tired of the games you play.
Why don't you just turn around
and look into my eyes?
See how bad you hurt me, babe...
how much you make me cry.
I can't make the tears go away-
believe me boy, I've tried.
Why you don't just turn around
and watch me die inside...
Love Isn't Real
Looking at others,
heart full of envy-
fighting the battle
raging deep within me.
Seeking a love
and a life of trust,
soul is shattered-
faith turned to dust.
Honesty impossible,
it’s human nature to lie.
Don’t expect too much-
it’ll only make you cry.
Love isn’t real-
it’s a mirage of hope.
Nothing but dreams
to help us cope.
For without the dream
we die a little each day-
we beg and we plead,
we cry and we pray.
We write songs and prose
about the pain and grief.
Don’t ever fall in love-
don’t be so weak.
Turn your heart to ice,
never let it thaw.
Don’t let anyone else hurt you-
don’t ever fall.....
heart full of envy-
fighting the battle
raging deep within me.
Seeking a love
and a life of trust,
soul is shattered-
faith turned to dust.
Honesty impossible,
it’s human nature to lie.
Don’t expect too much-
it’ll only make you cry.
Love isn’t real-
it’s a mirage of hope.
Nothing but dreams
to help us cope.
For without the dream
we die a little each day-
we beg and we plead,
we cry and we pray.
We write songs and prose
about the pain and grief.
Don’t ever fall in love-
don’t be so weak.
Turn your heart to ice,
never let it thaw.
Don’t let anyone else hurt you-
don’t ever fall.....
Memories
Memories. The mind is a wonderous place. It stores things from phone numbers to birthdays to anniversaries to quotes. It stores pictures, and songs, and poetry. It keeps recordings of voices and videos of our life- bit by bit. And it's so funny how they can make us laugh and make us cry- just within seconds but sometimes even at the same time.
I have been in my house for two years now... and wow- there's a lot of memories here! I'll be moving at the end of this month and saying goodbye to my cozy little rental home, but I'll be taking so many memories with me. I've had good and bad times since living here- but nothing I ever want to forget. I've gone through two serious breakups while living in this house, and quite a few tears. I've laughed loud and hard with friends- many that I've met or gotten closer to since living here. I've been so angry I could tear this house down with my bare hands and I've been so crushed that I just wanted this house to fall in on top of me.
It's funny to me how your mind can flash back and take you to a certain moment in the past just by looking around a room in silence. "He would be sitting there when I'd come in from work" or "that's where mom started crying when she walked in on her suprise 50th birthday party"... or "that's where we danced for no reason at all"... and even "that's where he was sitting when he ripped my heart to shreds". And it's funny how your mind can make you see the exact thing you're remembering, and hear the exact things you heard, even smell the things you were smelling at the moment that something happened.
This house will forever hold the last two years of my twenties, the flame of two loves that have burned down to ash, the heartache of a few hurt feelings, the bellows of laughter from great nights with best friends, and the music of a few slow dances frozen in my mind.
I'm going to miss my quaint little ranch house. I'm going to miss the things I'd hoped for while living here but realized weren't feasible. I'm going to miss having my roommate to bitch to and about, joke with, and even punch in the nose on occasion- even though he drives me insane and I'm anxious to be by myself again. I'm going to miss all the guys coming by before work to play the Xbox even though it's been a while since that's happened. I'm going to miss the privacy of a house- even though I hate mowing the yard that goes with that privacy.
I still don't know where I'm going when I leave this house- but I am looking forward to another new start. I know that with the people that are close to me and the new ones I will meet in the future, even more terrific memories are going to be made in my new place- wherever that may be. I'll be turning 30 in my new place so I'm hoping that with the new place comes a wiser Meesa. Well... a girl can hope, can't she?
"It's surprising how much memory is built around things unnoticed at the time." ~Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams
"We do not remember days; we remember moments." ~Cesare Pavese, The Burning Brand
"Things that were hard to bear are sweet to remember." ~Seneca
"Memory is a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things. " ~Pierce Harris, Atlanta Journal
I have been in my house for two years now... and wow- there's a lot of memories here! I'll be moving at the end of this month and saying goodbye to my cozy little rental home, but I'll be taking so many memories with me. I've had good and bad times since living here- but nothing I ever want to forget. I've gone through two serious breakups while living in this house, and quite a few tears. I've laughed loud and hard with friends- many that I've met or gotten closer to since living here. I've been so angry I could tear this house down with my bare hands and I've been so crushed that I just wanted this house to fall in on top of me.
It's funny to me how your mind can flash back and take you to a certain moment in the past just by looking around a room in silence. "He would be sitting there when I'd come in from work" or "that's where mom started crying when she walked in on her suprise 50th birthday party"... or "that's where we danced for no reason at all"... and even "that's where he was sitting when he ripped my heart to shreds". And it's funny how your mind can make you see the exact thing you're remembering, and hear the exact things you heard, even smell the things you were smelling at the moment that something happened.
This house will forever hold the last two years of my twenties, the flame of two loves that have burned down to ash, the heartache of a few hurt feelings, the bellows of laughter from great nights with best friends, and the music of a few slow dances frozen in my mind.
I'm going to miss my quaint little ranch house. I'm going to miss the things I'd hoped for while living here but realized weren't feasible. I'm going to miss having my roommate to bitch to and about, joke with, and even punch in the nose on occasion- even though he drives me insane and I'm anxious to be by myself again. I'm going to miss all the guys coming by before work to play the Xbox even though it's been a while since that's happened. I'm going to miss the privacy of a house- even though I hate mowing the yard that goes with that privacy.
I still don't know where I'm going when I leave this house- but I am looking forward to another new start. I know that with the people that are close to me and the new ones I will meet in the future, even more terrific memories are going to be made in my new place- wherever that may be. I'll be turning 30 in my new place so I'm hoping that with the new place comes a wiser Meesa. Well... a girl can hope, can't she?
"It's surprising how much memory is built around things unnoticed at the time." ~Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams
"We do not remember days; we remember moments." ~Cesare Pavese, The Burning Brand
"Things that were hard to bear are sweet to remember." ~Seneca
"Memory is a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things. " ~Pierce Harris, Atlanta Journal
That Alabama Boy
From across the bar I see him ordering a drink alone...
'Wonder what he's drinking- is it beer or Patron?'
He glances at me with bright smiling eyes-
dark chocolate brown- youthful, yet wise.
He grins at me with a beautiful smile-
I introduce myself, and we talk for a while.
He's from the south- has an accent to make you melt-
he's never been 'up north', lives below the Bible Belt.
A gentleman, of course- set in his Southern ways...
tells me he's only going to be here working for a few days.
My heart drops a bit because I want to know him more-
his favorite color, favorite song, what does he smile and cry for...
He spoke in a voice so syrupy sweet-
his dimples, eyes, and dark hair made my knees get weak.
He was dressed so casual- loose-fitting jeans and a white tee,
matched with bright white sneaks- a weakness for me.
His tan skin so bronze, his smile so bright-
he was tall, southern and mysterious- causing lust at first sight.
His laugh was contagious, addictive and real...
'Are these butterflies that I'm starting to feel?'
Everyone there disappeared- no one else existed to me...
'Why am I so drawn to this man when I know we could never be?"
I knew nothing about him yet felt like I'd known him forever-
I was hypnotized by his smile, his laugh... he was witty and clever.
He made me dizzy, my world began to spin that night at the bar.
I didn't need any alcohol- this buzz was better by far!
But I also came to realize that the ones that inspire poetry don't last.
They cause a fleeting passion, a deep infatuation, and then they pass.
None of us understand their reason- why we meet those who start the fires-
maybe it's so that we remember the heat that fuels us with desire.
To prepare us for the next real thing that may be just around the bend-
but no matter what, no matter where- the butterflies must end.
I've learned to hate it when a man inspires me to write...
they always end in poetic tragedy- I always lose my knight.
But that southern boy won't be forgotten- I'm glad I got the chance
to meet him while he was here and to catch his smiling glance.
'Wonder what he's drinking- is it beer or Patron?'
He glances at me with bright smiling eyes-
dark chocolate brown- youthful, yet wise.
He grins at me with a beautiful smile-
I introduce myself, and we talk for a while.
He's from the south- has an accent to make you melt-
he's never been 'up north', lives below the Bible Belt.
A gentleman, of course- set in his Southern ways...
tells me he's only going to be here working for a few days.
My heart drops a bit because I want to know him more-
his favorite color, favorite song, what does he smile and cry for...
He spoke in a voice so syrupy sweet-
his dimples, eyes, and dark hair made my knees get weak.
He was dressed so casual- loose-fitting jeans and a white tee,
matched with bright white sneaks- a weakness for me.
His tan skin so bronze, his smile so bright-
he was tall, southern and mysterious- causing lust at first sight.
His laugh was contagious, addictive and real...
'Are these butterflies that I'm starting to feel?'
Everyone there disappeared- no one else existed to me...
'Why am I so drawn to this man when I know we could never be?"
I knew nothing about him yet felt like I'd known him forever-
I was hypnotized by his smile, his laugh... he was witty and clever.
He made me dizzy, my world began to spin that night at the bar.
I didn't need any alcohol- this buzz was better by far!
But I also came to realize that the ones that inspire poetry don't last.
They cause a fleeting passion, a deep infatuation, and then they pass.
None of us understand their reason- why we meet those who start the fires-
maybe it's so that we remember the heat that fuels us with desire.
To prepare us for the next real thing that may be just around the bend-
but no matter what, no matter where- the butterflies must end.
I've learned to hate it when a man inspires me to write...
they always end in poetic tragedy- I always lose my knight.
But that southern boy won't be forgotten- I'm glad I got the chance
to meet him while he was here and to catch his smiling glance.
Heartless
Another night has passed me by
and I lie in this bed alone-
reminiscing of all the things I've lost,
wishing I could just go home.
Remembering flames that have burned to ash
that have left more than branded scars-
wondering if there will ever be another
strong enough to find my heart.
So lonely is this empty house,
even lonelier is this empty bed-
my thoughts don't give me a moments peace,
regret screaming in my head.
The quiet leaves me nothing,
just time to think and long for the past-
this silence so loud it's deafening,
shatters my eardrums like glass.
They say that home is where the heart is
but if that's the truth...
where is home when there is no longer a heart
beating love inside of you?
and I lie in this bed alone-
reminiscing of all the things I've lost,
wishing I could just go home.
Remembering flames that have burned to ash
that have left more than branded scars-
wondering if there will ever be another
strong enough to find my heart.
So lonely is this empty house,
even lonelier is this empty bed-
my thoughts don't give me a moments peace,
regret screaming in my head.
The quiet leaves me nothing,
just time to think and long for the past-
this silence so loud it's deafening,
shatters my eardrums like glass.
They say that home is where the heart is
but if that's the truth...
where is home when there is no longer a heart
beating love inside of you?
Not Good Enough
Take me out on a date- dinner for two...
yea right- I'm not good enough for you.
Scary movie side by side- some popcorn to chew...
not gonna happen- I'm not good enough for you.
A picnic in the park- pick me a flower covered in dew...
no daisies here- I'm not good enough for you.
A drive out in the country- holding hands as we drive through...
no locking fingers here- I'm not good enough for you.
Be my Prince Charming- bet I can fit that shoe...
no glass slipper here- I'm not good enough for you.
No flirty glances, no romantic gestures, not even one or two...
I get nothing emotionally cause I'm not good enough for you.
But, sure... come on into my home, into my bed, just like you want to....
I'm damn good enough to fuck- I'm just not good enough for you.
yea right- I'm not good enough for you.
Scary movie side by side- some popcorn to chew...
not gonna happen- I'm not good enough for you.
A picnic in the park- pick me a flower covered in dew...
no daisies here- I'm not good enough for you.
A drive out in the country- holding hands as we drive through...
no locking fingers here- I'm not good enough for you.
Be my Prince Charming- bet I can fit that shoe...
no glass slipper here- I'm not good enough for you.
No flirty glances, no romantic gestures, not even one or two...
I get nothing emotionally cause I'm not good enough for you.
But, sure... come on into my home, into my bed, just like you want to....
I'm damn good enough to fuck- I'm just not good enough for you.
Rainy Memories
Rain. Bleh. I wonder why it trudges up so many memories...
As I was driving to work this morning my brain went into it's usual tornadic mode and I started having flashback memories of when I was 18. I had just moved to London, KY with my parents- the last place I lived with them before moving out on my own.
I hated it. Maybe that's why the rain and dreariness of this morning revived that memory. I had no money, no job could be found unless I went to work at the cookie factory (which is to London what UK and Toyota are to Lexington), and my parents had just moved me 80 miles away from the boy I was head over heels in love with. We stayed with my dad's mom for a while and then moved into a trailer on Slate Ridge Road in a community outside of London called Lily - and I knew there was no way in hell I was staying there.
But for some odd reason, what crossed my mind this morning was the first month or so that we were staying with my grandmother. That boy of my dreams had given me a t-shirt of his that he had sprayed his cologne on and I slept with it every night and cried for him. It was 97-98 so cell phones weren't as accessible as they are now, so I didn't get to talk to him much because long distance and collect calls were just too expensive. I ended up so sick that I could barely move out of bed and thought I was going to die. I was "love sick". Literally.
Not many months after that I ended up moving out on my own and that boy of my dreams became my live-in boyfriend. Years later we eventually married and of course, are now divorced.
But what that memory sparked this morning is just a reminder of what I want again. I want to love someone that much again. Emotionally healthy or not- I want to feel that much for another human again, that much passion. I want to find another person that I feel like I can't live without. I've loved since then but have yet to feel anything that strongly.
Is it possible to feel something at 30 that we felt at 18? And for someone else? Was it really love or just 18 year old naivety? Has the bitter, cynical side of me ruined any chance I have to find that sort of passion again? I haven't found it since and I really do doubt I'll find it again- but hope never hurt anything, I guess. Maybe if I could find someTHING I'm passionate about the someONE will soon follow...
As I was driving to work this morning my brain went into it's usual tornadic mode and I started having flashback memories of when I was 18. I had just moved to London, KY with my parents- the last place I lived with them before moving out on my own.
I hated it. Maybe that's why the rain and dreariness of this morning revived that memory. I had no money, no job could be found unless I went to work at the cookie factory (which is to London what UK and Toyota are to Lexington), and my parents had just moved me 80 miles away from the boy I was head over heels in love with. We stayed with my dad's mom for a while and then moved into a trailer on Slate Ridge Road in a community outside of London called Lily - and I knew there was no way in hell I was staying there.
But for some odd reason, what crossed my mind this morning was the first month or so that we were staying with my grandmother. That boy of my dreams had given me a t-shirt of his that he had sprayed his cologne on and I slept with it every night and cried for him. It was 97-98 so cell phones weren't as accessible as they are now, so I didn't get to talk to him much because long distance and collect calls were just too expensive. I ended up so sick that I could barely move out of bed and thought I was going to die. I was "love sick". Literally.
Not many months after that I ended up moving out on my own and that boy of my dreams became my live-in boyfriend. Years later we eventually married and of course, are now divorced.
But what that memory sparked this morning is just a reminder of what I want again. I want to love someone that much again. Emotionally healthy or not- I want to feel that much for another human again, that much passion. I want to find another person that I feel like I can't live without. I've loved since then but have yet to feel anything that strongly.
Is it possible to feel something at 30 that we felt at 18? And for someone else? Was it really love or just 18 year old naivety? Has the bitter, cynical side of me ruined any chance I have to find that sort of passion again? I haven't found it since and I really do doubt I'll find it again- but hope never hurt anything, I guess. Maybe if I could find someTHING I'm passionate about the someONE will soon follow...
What Kind of Girl Can't Cry
She'll warm you with her friendly smile,
she's quick to embrace a friend in need...
she gives advice like a wise old soul-
she's one of a dying breed.
She's the shoulder you can lean on
and the one to listen when you need an ear-
she's the hand that's there to pick you up;
but the girl can't shed a tear.
She wants so badly to feel something
other than the pain inside.
She wants so badly to let it all go...
What kind of girl can't cry?
She'll keep you company late at night,
she'll warm you in her embrace...
she's the one you call when you're lonely,
and when you need it she'll give you space.
She's not a fighter but don't think she won't
to protect those she holds so dear...
she can calm you down or rile you up-
but the girl can't shed a tear.
she's quick to embrace a friend in need...
she gives advice like a wise old soul-
she's one of a dying breed.
She's the shoulder you can lean on
and the one to listen when you need an ear-
she's the hand that's there to pick you up;
but the girl can't shed a tear.
She wants so badly to feel something
other than the pain inside.
She wants so badly to let it all go...
What kind of girl can't cry?
She'll keep you company late at night,
she'll warm you in her embrace...
she's the one you call when you're lonely,
and when you need it she'll give you space.
She's not a fighter but don't think she won't
to protect those she holds so dear...
she can calm you down or rile you up-
but the girl can't shed a tear.
Haunted
She wants to rest her weary soul,
she prays for a night of peaceful sleep-
wants to visit heavenly places
instead of the hellish visions she sees.
She's tried counting sheep, focused on happy thoughts,
even hoped to dream of love...
but the demons haunt her late at night-
jaw clenched, covered in sweat, she wakes up.
Often times she awakens in tears,
barely stifling a scream-
tortured by things she's never seen in reality,
wanting just one night of sweet dreams.
But when she closes her eyes and her mind takes over;
the bullets, blood, and gore start again.
She never understands the meaning behind them-
she only wants the nightmares to end.
Most people wish to dream of those they've lost-
they hope for visits from beyond at night.
But for her it's a curse to see the pain
of the people she's lost in her life.
They appear to her, filled with anguish,
with such deep sadness in their eyes.
She cries and begs and tries to talk to them,
yet still never gets to say goodbye.
Each day that she wakes she's exhausted;
carries on with a feeling of dread.
How do you move on and get on with your life
when your dreams are haunted by the dead?
she prays for a night of peaceful sleep-
wants to visit heavenly places
instead of the hellish visions she sees.
She's tried counting sheep, focused on happy thoughts,
even hoped to dream of love...
but the demons haunt her late at night-
jaw clenched, covered in sweat, she wakes up.
Often times she awakens in tears,
barely stifling a scream-
tortured by things she's never seen in reality,
wanting just one night of sweet dreams.
But when she closes her eyes and her mind takes over;
the bullets, blood, and gore start again.
She never understands the meaning behind them-
she only wants the nightmares to end.
Most people wish to dream of those they've lost-
they hope for visits from beyond at night.
But for her it's a curse to see the pain
of the people she's lost in her life.
They appear to her, filled with anguish,
with such deep sadness in their eyes.
She cries and begs and tries to talk to them,
yet still never gets to say goodbye.
Each day that she wakes she's exhausted;
carries on with a feeling of dread.
How do you move on and get on with your life
when your dreams are haunted by the dead?
Ridiculous Dreams
Could I have been more of a fool?
Dreaming those ridiculous dreams...
believing I found what I had always wanted,
believing he could really love ME.
Dreaming of the white picket fence,
the American dream, a piece of the pie...
a life filled with romance, filled with love-
go figure... it was all a lie.
An act, a facade, a play-
a play on words, a play on my heart.
I opened myself up again-
only to be torn apart.
Wanting so badly to scream right now-
to punch something, find something to break...
seems the only thing broken is me though-
nothing here to ease this ache.
I should have known better,
so now bitterness sets in.
Self pity, pathetic loathing,
pissed off cause I did it again.
I gave someone my heart
expecting it to be safe with a man,
only to have it burn up in flames-
the match lit by his hands.
Back on the road of solitude-
learning to be once again alone...
turning my tears into fire-
and this broken heart into stone.
Dreaming those ridiculous dreams...
believing I found what I had always wanted,
believing he could really love ME.
Dreaming of the white picket fence,
the American dream, a piece of the pie...
a life filled with romance, filled with love-
go figure... it was all a lie.
An act, a facade, a play-
a play on words, a play on my heart.
I opened myself up again-
only to be torn apart.
Wanting so badly to scream right now-
to punch something, find something to break...
seems the only thing broken is me though-
nothing here to ease this ache.
I should have known better,
so now bitterness sets in.
Self pity, pathetic loathing,
pissed off cause I did it again.
I gave someone my heart
expecting it to be safe with a man,
only to have it burn up in flames-
the match lit by his hands.
Back on the road of solitude-
learning to be once again alone...
turning my tears into fire-
and this broken heart into stone.
Nocturnal Pain
Lying in bed alone, listening to the falling rain...
beating in rhythm with my pulse, against my window pane.
Wishing I were in your arms, not lost with thoughts of you in my head...
reflecting on regrets, and words, I wish I would have said.
Sirens in the distance scream, like lovers torn apart,
the night wind carries a chill, that matches the one in my heart.
Loneliness tends to overtake, on solemn nights like this...
my mind is wandering- missing you- wishing for just one kiss.
No creatures stir, yet I am restless, no sleep for me tonight...
I ache to be wrapped up, in your arms, beneath the pale moonlight.
But alone I lie in this cold, queen bed- you're a million miles away...
I close my eyes and can hear you speak the words you'll never say.
beating in rhythm with my pulse, against my window pane.
Wishing I were in your arms, not lost with thoughts of you in my head...
reflecting on regrets, and words, I wish I would have said.
Sirens in the distance scream, like lovers torn apart,
the night wind carries a chill, that matches the one in my heart.
Loneliness tends to overtake, on solemn nights like this...
my mind is wandering- missing you- wishing for just one kiss.
No creatures stir, yet I am restless, no sleep for me tonight...
I ache to be wrapped up, in your arms, beneath the pale moonlight.
But alone I lie in this cold, queen bed- you're a million miles away...
I close my eyes and can hear you speak the words you'll never say.
Heat
(Inspired by "Burn" by Usher)
Your eyes...
burn a hole in my soul.
Your touch...
sends flames down my spine.
Your kiss...
melts away my defenses.
This heat...
overtakes my heart.
This fire...
consumes my being.
I know I’m going to get burned,
yet
still...
I want to be engulfed by you.
Your eyes...
burn a hole in my soul.
Your touch...
sends flames down my spine.
Your kiss...
melts away my defenses.
This heat...
overtakes my heart.
This fire...
consumes my being.
I know I’m going to get burned,
yet
still...
I want to be engulfed by you.
Another Decade Down the Drain
Resolution, schmesolution. Who needs 'em?
It's almost 2011, people. Am I the only one having a hard time believing that?? Is it just me or does it seem like it was just yesterday that everyone was freaking out over the Y2K scare? Where has the last decade gone?!?!?! Another year gone, another decade for the next generations to make fun of. Were there even any real "fads" of 2000-2010? Maybe I just didn't notice because of my age. What are your most memorable moments of the last ten years? Twenty years from now when you remember the... wait, what is that decade gonna be called? The singles? hahahaha! Anyways... when you look back on "the singles" of 2000-2010, what will stand out in your mind?
I'm sure our grandparents and great-grandparents have their fond memories of the 'simpler life' from the early part of the 20th century. Our parents have the great music, Vietnam, Woodstock, etc. from their years. We have the craziness of the 80's and 90's, the terror attacks of 9-11, and our own war. Is that all we're gonna have to look back on when we're the seniors of America?
As for me... the past 10 years have been one helluva ride, that's for sure. Growing up is a bitch and I'm still in the process. Actually, I think I've gone backwards. Lol! Bought a house, got married, sold the house, got divorced, got a new job that I was at for almost 5 years, moved into my very own apartment by myself for the first time in my life, got pregnant, lost my dad, lost my son, totalled my car, got laid off, and now here I sit. Of course those are just the big things that stand out in my mind of the last ten years. What are your big things?
So another year is gone. Last year I had the motto of "New Year, New Rules, New Life". This year I think my motto is just gonna be "Go With the Flow". There's no point to resolutions. No one ever keeps them. There's no point to thinking "This year is gonna be so much better than last year." It's just another year of trying to survive, trying to live life as happily as possible, and trying to duck and weave all the bullshit that gets thrown at us throughout the days.
So to all my friends, may you have lots of luck for 2011. And if you get hit with a bucket of shit, be sure to close your eyes and mouth. :oP
"May all your troubles last as long as your New Year's resolutions!"
I'm sure our grandparents and great-grandparents have their fond memories of the 'simpler life' from the early part of the 20th century. Our parents have the great music, Vietnam, Woodstock, etc. from their years. We have the craziness of the 80's and 90's, the terror attacks of 9-11, and our own war. Is that all we're gonna have to look back on when we're the seniors of America?
As for me... the past 10 years have been one helluva ride, that's for sure. Growing up is a bitch and I'm still in the process. Actually, I think I've gone backwards. Lol! Bought a house, got married, sold the house, got divorced, got a new job that I was at for almost 5 years, moved into my very own apartment by myself for the first time in my life, got pregnant, lost my dad, lost my son, totalled my car, got laid off, and now here I sit. Of course those are just the big things that stand out in my mind of the last ten years. What are your big things?
So another year is gone. Last year I had the motto of "New Year, New Rules, New Life". This year I think my motto is just gonna be "Go With the Flow". There's no point to resolutions. No one ever keeps them. There's no point to thinking "This year is gonna be so much better than last year." It's just another year of trying to survive, trying to live life as happily as possible, and trying to duck and weave all the bullshit that gets thrown at us throughout the days.
So to all my friends, may you have lots of luck for 2011. And if you get hit with a bucket of shit, be sure to close your eyes and mouth. :oP
"May all your troubles last as long as your New Year's resolutions!"
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Unapologetic
I refuse to apologize for being real.
I have no desire to join the masses who are so eager to impress one another with their artificial everything. Fake hair, fake nails, fake eyelashes, fake body parts, fake tans, fake personalities. I'm no Barbie. I don't want a Ken.
Everything about me is genuine. I'm honest. My body is real. My face is real. My hair, my nails, my accent, my personality. When I wake up I am the same person as when I fell asleep. I don't have to remind myself to be someone that I'm not. I don't have to act a particular way because of who I am around. Everyone who knows me knows the same girl. Go ahead, ask. I bet that Barbie girl you drooled over at the bar can't say that.
I may not be where I want to be in life. I may not have the material things that seem to matter, like your brand name clothes that you find so horribly important. I may not drive the best car, or have much money in the bank. My credit sucks and I've never been to college. But when you meet me, when you talk to me... you get ME. You don't get an imposter who's trying to be someone just to impress you. I want ME to impress you. And if I don't, move on. Don't waste my time or yours trying to change me. I am who I am, you are who you are.
I grew up poor. I grew up on welfare. I grew up in low-income apartments, trailer parks, and places where most of you are scared to drive. My mommy and daddy didn't pay my way through life. Everything I've ever had, I've had to earn. I appreciate everything I've ever had that much more because of that reason. I am proud of where I come from because, even though everyone in every neighborhood I've ever lived in was poor like me, most of them were REAL just like me. We didn't try to keep up with the Jones' because the Jones' didn't have shit either.
I don't feel the need to put on a short little dress, tons of makeup and hairspray, and high heels I can barely walk in every time I step outside my house. Yes, it's fun to get all dolled up and go 'girly' sometimes but I don't need to do that in order to feel comfortable going out in public. I am comfortable in my skin, without all the glitter.
I speak my mind unless I think it will hurt people I care about. When it comes to people I love I am a bit of a pushover. Maybe that's the 'fakest' thing about me. I love crude humor, I can make sailors blush with some of the things I say, I act a fool when I'm having fun with my friends, and I typically don't censor myself when at a bar or even on Facebook. I have no reason to. But I know how to be a "lady" when necessary. I behave myself when I must, but when it's not necessary I have fun. Regardless, I am still ME.
For a few years now I've been insulted by numerous people for being 'redneck' and having 'redneck' friends. But here's the thing about me and my 'redneck' friends- we are all real. We get along with everyone. We accept everyone for who they are. We don't look down on you for spending $50 on a button-up shirt at Hollister when you could have gotten the same shirt at Walmart for $9.99. We may think you're a bit crazy but we won't dislike you for it. But at the same time, we aren't impressed with that ridiculousness either.What impresses us are other real people who don't feel the need to belittle others with snide comments degrading people they think are beneath them. Each different personality brings a new element into our lives and we all learn things from our differences. That's how it should be. We don't care what car you drive or what you do for a living. We don't care what clothes you wear. We don't care how much money you have in the bank, how many degrees you have, or what you own. So why do you??
I refuse to apologize for being me. I refuse to apologize for being that "redneck" chick. I refuse to apologize for not having the perfect body, the perfect hair, the perfect life. I refuse to apologize for loving the people I love and wanting to be surrounded by them because they make me happy. I refuse to apologize for not wanting to change because I don't fit your idea of what I should be. I refuse to apologize for having fun just as I am. I refuse to apologize for having the same personality regardless of who is around me. I refuse to apologize for not feeling the need to put on a show to impress you.
I refuse to apologize for being real.
Everything about me is genuine. I'm honest. My body is real. My face is real. My hair, my nails, my accent, my personality. When I wake up I am the same person as when I fell asleep. I don't have to remind myself to be someone that I'm not. I don't have to act a particular way because of who I am around. Everyone who knows me knows the same girl. Go ahead, ask. I bet that Barbie girl you drooled over at the bar can't say that.
I may not be where I want to be in life. I may not have the material things that seem to matter, like your brand name clothes that you find so horribly important. I may not drive the best car, or have much money in the bank. My credit sucks and I've never been to college. But when you meet me, when you talk to me... you get ME. You don't get an imposter who's trying to be someone just to impress you. I want ME to impress you. And if I don't, move on. Don't waste my time or yours trying to change me. I am who I am, you are who you are.
I grew up poor. I grew up on welfare. I grew up in low-income apartments, trailer parks, and places where most of you are scared to drive. My mommy and daddy didn't pay my way through life. Everything I've ever had, I've had to earn. I appreciate everything I've ever had that much more because of that reason. I am proud of where I come from because, even though everyone in every neighborhood I've ever lived in was poor like me, most of them were REAL just like me. We didn't try to keep up with the Jones' because the Jones' didn't have shit either.
I don't feel the need to put on a short little dress, tons of makeup and hairspray, and high heels I can barely walk in every time I step outside my house. Yes, it's fun to get all dolled up and go 'girly' sometimes but I don't need to do that in order to feel comfortable going out in public. I am comfortable in my skin, without all the glitter.
I speak my mind unless I think it will hurt people I care about. When it comes to people I love I am a bit of a pushover. Maybe that's the 'fakest' thing about me. I love crude humor, I can make sailors blush with some of the things I say, I act a fool when I'm having fun with my friends, and I typically don't censor myself when at a bar or even on Facebook. I have no reason to. But I know how to be a "lady" when necessary. I behave myself when I must, but when it's not necessary I have fun. Regardless, I am still ME.
For a few years now I've been insulted by numerous people for being 'redneck' and having 'redneck' friends. But here's the thing about me and my 'redneck' friends- we are all real. We get along with everyone. We accept everyone for who they are. We don't look down on you for spending $50 on a button-up shirt at Hollister when you could have gotten the same shirt at Walmart for $9.99. We may think you're a bit crazy but we won't dislike you for it. But at the same time, we aren't impressed with that ridiculousness either.What impresses us are other real people who don't feel the need to belittle others with snide comments degrading people they think are beneath them. Each different personality brings a new element into our lives and we all learn things from our differences. That's how it should be. We don't care what car you drive or what you do for a living. We don't care what clothes you wear. We don't care how much money you have in the bank, how many degrees you have, or what you own. So why do you??
I refuse to apologize for being me. I refuse to apologize for being that "redneck" chick. I refuse to apologize for not having the perfect body, the perfect hair, the perfect life. I refuse to apologize for loving the people I love and wanting to be surrounded by them because they make me happy. I refuse to apologize for not wanting to change because I don't fit your idea of what I should be. I refuse to apologize for having fun just as I am. I refuse to apologize for having the same personality regardless of who is around me. I refuse to apologize for not feeling the need to put on a show to impress you.
I refuse to apologize for being real.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
It's never a good idea to go under the influence of nitrous.... and sappy music
"I prithee send me back my heart,
Since I cannot have thine;
For if from yours you will not part,
Why, then, shouldst thou have mine?"
~John Suckling
"So who broke you?"
Since I cannot have thine;
For if from yours you will not part,
Why, then, shouldst thou have mine?"
~John Suckling
"So who broke you?"
That's one of the questions I've asked a lot of my guy friends. You know, those guys. The ones who have become the 'players' and 'heart-breakers' of today. And they all have the same answer... "well there was this girl..."
There is always that one person who finally does us in for good. That one person who finally ruins any potential for successful relationships for us beyond them. That one person who broke us so badly, and whether we admit it or not, that we will never fully be over. Or in my case, and the case of many of my girlfriends, there were a few that added up and that 'one' was just the final straw.
Yesterday I received more registrations in the mail at work for a conference that my boss and I coordinate. I unfold the registration and the name on the check catches my eye. It sent my heart to the pit of my stomach and suddenly I felt like I was going to be sick. It was from the mother of my last serious boyfriend... the 'one' who finally broke me. When I saw her name, hundreds of memories came flooding through my brain- almost as if I was going into a heartache induced seizure. Suddenly I found myself reminiscing of that short time her son and I were together. He was everything I had ever imagined my 'Prince Charming' to be. Well... at least he made me believe he was. For the first time in my life I was in ridiculous bliss. I was blinded to everyone else around me. For the first three months life couldn't have gotten better. He was gorgeous, sexy, tall, dark, handsome, romantic, intelligent, strong, manly, and my 'country boy'. Even thinking about him now, I can still remember how he smelled. But alas, all good things must end.
Around the three month mark- he ripped my heart out. He ended us with no warning, no notice, and some very hurtful words. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore. A month or so went by and he came back, crying and begging me to take him back and forgive him. I did, of course, and welcomed him back with open arms- although a bit gun shy and leery. After a few weeks it was back to where we were before and I was back in my state of ignorant bliss. Again, the three month mark rolled around and he ripped my heart out again. I had sworn to myself years before him that I would never cry after or beg a man to be with me. But I dropped all my pride and dignity and cried after him as he got into his truck and drove away- not even looking back. A week passed and again he called, crying and begging. This time I thought I made him prove himself. He swore he went to a doctor and was diagnosed bipolar and got a prescription for meds to help him. He swore he had gotten help and was even seeing a therapist and that he would never hurt me again. And, like the foolish woman I am, I believed.
As you can guess- the story did not end like the fairy tales. He ripped my heart out one last time and I finally bid him farewell for good. "Three strikes you're out", I told him. It was hard but then he said something so cruel I won't even type it here- which made me hate him. I thank him for that actually. His horrible words made it easier to say goodbye. But the whole experience of him re-opened the hole that I thought I was starting to finally heal. And sadly, a year and a half after saying goodbye, that hole is still there. It's funny how such a short relationship can lead you to that dark place in your head and your heart that no one can rescue you from.
Today, as I was lying in my dentist chair under the influence of nitrous, listening to sappy love songs on my mp3 player, my mind started racing through memory after memory. Heartache after heartache. Each one different, yet, somehow the same. A different villain in each storyline, same broken feeling.
The lying from my ex-husband. Years before we were married, and even after we were married. But he was my soul and I loved him so I forgave each sin. Then I became the 'bad guy' for my one sin against him, for which I will never forgive myself. He is now with an old high school girlfriend and they recently had a baby. I wish him nothing but happiness and joy.
The 'Casanova' bastard who told me everything I'd ever wanted to hear from my ex-husband and didn't mean a word of it. The one who made me believe that happiness really was possible. The one I crushed my ex-husband over. The selfish one who will never grow up and never truly love anyone but himself. He is now married with a baby and still hasn't realized the error of his ways. Karma's a bitch. I thought he learned that a few years ago...evidently not.
My sons father. I trusted him from day one. There was something so angelic about him from the beginning. But I was never good enough for him. I smoked too much, didn't eat right, didn't exercise enough, was too much of this or too little of that. The day I gave birth to our stillborn son he was leaving flirty comments on another girls pictures on her Myspace. He swears he never cheated. Did he? I'll never know. He always preached at me about how exes can never really be friends. Yet while we were together he started hanging out with a girl he had slept with years before that. They were, of course, "Just friends". They now live together. We still talk on occasion but he's not allowed to actually be my 'friend'- it might hurt that girls feelings. Hmmm... wonder if she thinks about how I felt?
My "Prince Charming". As you read above, he was the straw that broke the camel's back. A week after our final conversation in February he met a girl at a tanning salon. They were married August 1st of that same year. She added me on Facebook for about a week and then I deleted her, and I even spoke to her on the phone. She seems like a sweet girl. I wish them the best but can't help but feel my stomach drop at the mention of his name or the sight of his face and those dark brown eyes that hypnotized me so many times.
There is always that one person who finally does us in for good. That one person who finally ruins any potential for successful relationships for us beyond them. That one person who broke us so badly, and whether we admit it or not, that we will never fully be over. Or in my case, and the case of many of my girlfriends, there were a few that added up and that 'one' was just the final straw.
Yesterday I received more registrations in the mail at work for a conference that my boss and I coordinate. I unfold the registration and the name on the check catches my eye. It sent my heart to the pit of my stomach and suddenly I felt like I was going to be sick. It was from the mother of my last serious boyfriend... the 'one' who finally broke me. When I saw her name, hundreds of memories came flooding through my brain- almost as if I was going into a heartache induced seizure. Suddenly I found myself reminiscing of that short time her son and I were together. He was everything I had ever imagined my 'Prince Charming' to be. Well... at least he made me believe he was. For the first time in my life I was in ridiculous bliss. I was blinded to everyone else around me. For the first three months life couldn't have gotten better. He was gorgeous, sexy, tall, dark, handsome, romantic, intelligent, strong, manly, and my 'country boy'. Even thinking about him now, I can still remember how he smelled. But alas, all good things must end.
Around the three month mark- he ripped my heart out. He ended us with no warning, no notice, and some very hurtful words. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore. A month or so went by and he came back, crying and begging me to take him back and forgive him. I did, of course, and welcomed him back with open arms- although a bit gun shy and leery. After a few weeks it was back to where we were before and I was back in my state of ignorant bliss. Again, the three month mark rolled around and he ripped my heart out again. I had sworn to myself years before him that I would never cry after or beg a man to be with me. But I dropped all my pride and dignity and cried after him as he got into his truck and drove away- not even looking back. A week passed and again he called, crying and begging. This time I thought I made him prove himself. He swore he went to a doctor and was diagnosed bipolar and got a prescription for meds to help him. He swore he had gotten help and was even seeing a therapist and that he would never hurt me again. And, like the foolish woman I am, I believed.
As you can guess- the story did not end like the fairy tales. He ripped my heart out one last time and I finally bid him farewell for good. "Three strikes you're out", I told him. It was hard but then he said something so cruel I won't even type it here- which made me hate him. I thank him for that actually. His horrible words made it easier to say goodbye. But the whole experience of him re-opened the hole that I thought I was starting to finally heal. And sadly, a year and a half after saying goodbye, that hole is still there. It's funny how such a short relationship can lead you to that dark place in your head and your heart that no one can rescue you from.
Today, as I was lying in my dentist chair under the influence of nitrous, listening to sappy love songs on my mp3 player, my mind started racing through memory after memory. Heartache after heartache. Each one different, yet, somehow the same. A different villain in each storyline, same broken feeling.
The lying from my ex-husband. Years before we were married, and even after we were married. But he was my soul and I loved him so I forgave each sin. Then I became the 'bad guy' for my one sin against him, for which I will never forgive myself. He is now with an old high school girlfriend and they recently had a baby. I wish him nothing but happiness and joy.
The 'Casanova' bastard who told me everything I'd ever wanted to hear from my ex-husband and didn't mean a word of it. The one who made me believe that happiness really was possible. The one I crushed my ex-husband over. The selfish one who will never grow up and never truly love anyone but himself. He is now married with a baby and still hasn't realized the error of his ways. Karma's a bitch. I thought he learned that a few years ago...evidently not.
My sons father. I trusted him from day one. There was something so angelic about him from the beginning. But I was never good enough for him. I smoked too much, didn't eat right, didn't exercise enough, was too much of this or too little of that. The day I gave birth to our stillborn son he was leaving flirty comments on another girls pictures on her Myspace. He swears he never cheated. Did he? I'll never know. He always preached at me about how exes can never really be friends. Yet while we were together he started hanging out with a girl he had slept with years before that. They were, of course, "Just friends". They now live together. We still talk on occasion but he's not allowed to actually be my 'friend'- it might hurt that girls feelings. Hmmm... wonder if she thinks about how I felt?
My "Prince Charming". As you read above, he was the straw that broke the camel's back. A week after our final conversation in February he met a girl at a tanning salon. They were married August 1st of that same year. She added me on Facebook for about a week and then I deleted her, and I even spoke to her on the phone. She seems like a sweet girl. I wish them the best but can't help but feel my stomach drop at the mention of his name or the sight of his face and those dark brown eyes that hypnotized me so many times.
With each heartache a chunk of ourselves gets broken away. After we experience that final 'one', something happens inside of us that we don't even realize. We become desensitized to love. Yes, I have been crazy about people since my last heart-break, but I have not allowed myself to feel real love for anyone since him. Sadly, I've become a bit of a villain myself, as we all do after being hurt so many times. We learn to be on constant guard of our hearts and souls, and we are subconsciously attracted to the ones that we know we can never have anything real with. As soon as we start to actually 'feel' something, we find a reason (or a hundred) to back off. We develop a phobia of emotional pain. I personally would rather someone beat me half to death than to break my heart ever again. Bruises and broken bones heal with time- true heartache never fully does.
Present day... I sit here in my one bedroom apartment in front of my monitor. My cat asleep on the chair behind me, and my apartment completely silent other than the tranquil humming from my computer and my fingers tapping away on the keyboard. I stay in a comfortably numb state for the most part. Until something sparks the memories like a name on a check. Or nitrous and sappy love songs.
"I am tired, Beloved,
of chafing my heart against
the want of you;
of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it."
~Amy Lowell, "The Letter"
Present day... I sit here in my one bedroom apartment in front of my monitor. My cat asleep on the chair behind me, and my apartment completely silent other than the tranquil humming from my computer and my fingers tapping away on the keyboard. I stay in a comfortably numb state for the most part. Until something sparks the memories like a name on a check. Or nitrous and sappy love songs.
"I am tired, Beloved,
of chafing my heart against
the want of you;
of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it."
~Amy Lowell, "The Letter"
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Writing Is My Therapy, My Soul
Okay, okay... so going to see the sappy, tearjerker Dear John has my head spinning again. My mind is often in a tornadic state but with so much going on from day to day I can rarely figure out one thing to focus on in order to clear it out of my head. From the stress of dealing with work shit to trying to be there for friends and family to just trying to go into zombie mode so that I don't think about things- I rarely ever take the time to think about what the hell is going on with myself other than the stuff that is directly in my view on the day to day.
Doing things like watching a sappy movie suck because they make me do the one thing I hate...cry. But they actually help overall because they make me stop to think about things. Like tonight.
This is a weird week for me anyway. Those of you that know me very well know my thing with 22 and 222. Today was 2-22 and thankfully nothing crazy happened. (Whew!) I still have yet to figure out what significance that has but still weird either way.
I
"It's possible to go on, no matter how impossible it seems, and that in time, the grief . . . lessens. It may not go away completely, but after a while it's not so overwhelming."
— Nicholas Sparks (Dear John)
This Saturday is the three year anniversary of my dad's suicide. It's so hard to believe it's been 3 years. Tomorrow is the three year mark of the last time I spoke to him. It was my ex's birthday and we were on our way to Olive Garden. I was pregnant and so hungry and my dad called me from my grandmother's house in London. He was talking about going into rehab and asked if I'd come see him if he did. He was being pretty repetitive, as most people are when they're intoxicated. I felt like I was being rude for staying on the phone on my way out for a dinner date with my boyfriend so I was trying to rush him off the phone. He went on and on about how proud he was of me. I remember asking him why because I felt like a complete failure. I didn't have a career- was going through a divorce- and was pregnant by a man who was not my husband. But he insisted he was proud of me anyway and told me about a dream he'd had about his grandchild I was pregnant with at the time. He had had a dream of taking him fishing and said he was definitely going to be a boy and was going to be chubby and be "Papaw's boy". Before we hung up he told me he loved me. I would have never dreamed that that moment would be the last time I would talk to my daddy.
He didn't say anything hinting to what he was going to do and even seemed like he was in a decent mood, but he had made suicidal threats before and I believed that bullshit about "if they threaten it they'll never do it, they just want attention". I found out 4 days later that it's not true. When someone threatens suicide they will do it at some point when they finally reach what they think is more than they can handle. On February 27, 2007 my daddy took his own life in front of his alcoholic mother with a .22 Ruger (there's that fucking number again). I was 14 weeks pregnant. He left no note.
So now, three years later, I sit here with tears running down my face missing my daddy and wondering if there is anything at all I could have said to make him change his mind. Did he feel like we didn't care? Did he think we hated him? Did he think his baby girl was too grown up and didn't need him anymore and that I didn't want to talk to him? Did I break his heart when I rushed him off the phone to go to my oh-so-important dinner date? The path of destruction from a suicide is an unexplainable one. A hole left in the souls of the people left behind that nothing will ever fill and a hurt in me no man will ever come close to healing. And none I have met yet that are brave enough or strong enough to even try.
II
"Just when you think it can't get any worse, it can. And just when you think it can't get any better, it can."
— Nicholas Sparks (At First Sight)
February 27th was the end of the world to me. The man I always thought was superhuman showed me that it's not really true when people say God won't put more on you than you can handle. He gave my dad more than he could handle. If it were true that God wouldn't do that then no one would ever feel the need to end their own lives. And just when I thought I couldn't handle anymore my life took an even more tragic turn for the worse.
A few weeks after losing dad my doctor was trying to put me in a better state of mind for the sake of my health and my baby. So she did a 'sneak peek' ultrasound and I found out he was a boy. I was happy about that yet it made me sad because I couldn't call my dad with the great news that he was going to have the grandson he told me he dreamed about. I wanted so bad to pick up the phone and tell him that he was right- but I couldn't. But still, I was happy. I had been trying to decide between a few names and finally decided on Aiden Blaine. I thought it sounded so masculine yet modern and like a hero from a novel. I couldn't wait until my official 20 week ultrasound so that I could record it and show my mom and sister.
My son's father had to work the day of my official ultrasound so my best friend Mel went with me. It was Tuesday, April 10, 2007. Six weeks to the day exactly of when my dad took his life. After waiting for what seemed like forever in the waiting room we finally got called back. They don't do VHS recordings anymore so Mel had my digital camera and was recording the tv screen that the ultrasound was showing on. After a few minutes the tech asked her to stop recording and left the room. What seemed like another eternity passed before the tech came back with the doctor close behind her. Moving the machine around my abdomen again for a few minutes, the doctor got a disturbing look on her face and told me my son no longer had a heartbeat.
My choices were to either wait it out and let nature take its course or be induced and give birth to my baby boy at 20 weeks. I was admitted to the hospital and induced and my sleeping angel was delivered a little after midnight on April 12. His cord was wrapped. They estimated he had already been gone for at least a week so he wasn't even developed to the full 20 weeks yet. They called it a 'miscarriage' instead of a stillbirth so I didn't even get a death certificate or a funeral. It took weeks for him to be buried and for me to find out where. There was no closure. No chance to say goodbye. And the only photos I got are of his hands and feet because when the nurse asked me if I wanted pictures of his face I was too doped up to give it any thought. I was already crushed and this was the final blow.
I went back to work a week after losing my father so tragically and now I was going back to work a week and a half after losing my baby boy. I couldn't afford to take the time off I probably needed. When I went back to work I had an email that said "I know you're going through a lot but this is a crucial time and I need you to be on top of things." Yes, I'm serious.
So not only was I crushed and destroyed but I was angry and didn't even know who to be angry with. I had no time to deal with myself and no time to figure out how to grieve. Sure, I cried. But for the most part I did it when I was alone because no one else wanted to hear me. I was angry to the point of not even being able to be around my mom for a while other than an hour or so at a time because I couldn't deal with her talking about my dad. I couldn't handle her pain because I wasn't even able to handle mine. I felt like my son's father didn't really care and even wondered if he was relieved. Honestly, as time has passed, I've come to realize I was probably right.
What I would give now to hold my son. To know what color his eyes would have been or the color of his hair. To be able to kiss his dimples he would most likely have inherited from me. To be able to hear him say 'ma ma' or 'da da' for the first time. To be able to tuck him in at night. To have the 'boring' life of staying at home to cuddle with my baby boy and watch cartoons. He would be 2 1/2 now and although he'd be in his "terrible two's" and I'd be exhausted I'd give the world to have that chance.
III
"I finally understood what true love meant...love meant that you care for another person's happiness more than your own, no matter how painful the choices you face might be."
— Nicholas Sparks (Dear John)
Love. Undying, unconditional, real love. Most of us have had it at least once in our lives. And most of us let it go without realizing it until it's too late. We always think the grass is greener on the other side and that there's more to life than what we have at our fingertips. We always want what is beyond our grasp without realizing what we hold in our arms already. There is a part in the movie where John and Savannah are writing to each other looking at the full moon knowing the other is too- and thinking about each other so it's almost like they're together. That part of the movie took me back in time. I had a love like that once. But our 'full moon' were electric poles. (I know it sounds silly but think about it... almost all electric lines in this country are connected.) That love and I would talk on the phone when we were many miles away from each other and each go outside to touch an electric pole at the same time. That way we were connected physically and not just on the phone. We were young but it made perfect sense at the time. And to this day when the thought crosses my mind I still wish I could go touch an electric pole and know that I wasn't alone. At that moment I was home... and God how I miss that feeling.
But now, years later, past loves are happy in their own lives and are creating new memories. As for me... well, I'm not so sure. I've come to the conclusion that I have been going through a rebellious phase of some sort. I've tried to do some soul searching to try to figure out why I've turned out like I have but with no answers. I even question if I will ever be able to truly feel anything for anyone again. That is yet to be determined... I'm still waiting to feel 'home' again. I keep repeating in my head and it's become kind of common in my writings that "Home is where the heart is" and I know that until my heart is healed from whatever it is that keeps it in this state I'm destined to be a wanderer. Until then I'll just remain broken and live each day trying to put myself back together. I just wish I knew a better route than the one I've been taking.
IV
"When you're struggling with something, look at all the people around you and realize that every single person you see is struggling with something, and to them, it's just as hard as what you're going through."
— Nicholas Sparks (Dear John)
I know that the more I think about these things throughout this week and the next few weeks, the more emotional I will get. The slightest things like the weather being the same as the day things happened will spark an anxiety type feeling and possible brief tears. I know that throughout these next few weeks I will carry on and laugh as I always do and possibly not even show if or when something is bothering me. This is why I write. I sit alone in my apartment and can cry if I want to without feeling like I'm burdening anyone with my emotions. I can blog on this note without worrying about what someone is thinking of me and my inability to properly deal with my own issues. I can rant and rave in writing without being interrupted or having to deal with anything else in the world except my own thoughts. There are no pitiful looks of sympathy, no cheap words of how 'everything happens for a reason', and no awkward moments of people not knowing what to say.
This is my therapy.
Psychiatrists? Who needs 'em?
I have a keyboard.
Doing things like watching a sappy movie suck because they make me do the one thing I hate...cry. But they actually help overall because they make me stop to think about things. Like tonight.
This is a weird week for me anyway. Those of you that know me very well know my thing with 22 and 222. Today was 2-22 and thankfully nothing crazy happened. (Whew!) I still have yet to figure out what significance that has but still weird either way.
I
"It's possible to go on, no matter how impossible it seems, and that in time, the grief . . . lessens. It may not go away completely, but after a while it's not so overwhelming."
— Nicholas Sparks (Dear John)
This Saturday is the three year anniversary of my dad's suicide. It's so hard to believe it's been 3 years. Tomorrow is the three year mark of the last time I spoke to him. It was my ex's birthday and we were on our way to Olive Garden. I was pregnant and so hungry and my dad called me from my grandmother's house in London. He was talking about going into rehab and asked if I'd come see him if he did. He was being pretty repetitive, as most people are when they're intoxicated. I felt like I was being rude for staying on the phone on my way out for a dinner date with my boyfriend so I was trying to rush him off the phone. He went on and on about how proud he was of me. I remember asking him why because I felt like a complete failure. I didn't have a career- was going through a divorce- and was pregnant by a man who was not my husband. But he insisted he was proud of me anyway and told me about a dream he'd had about his grandchild I was pregnant with at the time. He had had a dream of taking him fishing and said he was definitely going to be a boy and was going to be chubby and be "Papaw's boy". Before we hung up he told me he loved me. I would have never dreamed that that moment would be the last time I would talk to my daddy.
He didn't say anything hinting to what he was going to do and even seemed like he was in a decent mood, but he had made suicidal threats before and I believed that bullshit about "if they threaten it they'll never do it, they just want attention". I found out 4 days later that it's not true. When someone threatens suicide they will do it at some point when they finally reach what they think is more than they can handle. On February 27, 2007 my daddy took his own life in front of his alcoholic mother with a .22 Ruger (there's that fucking number again). I was 14 weeks pregnant. He left no note.
So now, three years later, I sit here with tears running down my face missing my daddy and wondering if there is anything at all I could have said to make him change his mind. Did he feel like we didn't care? Did he think we hated him? Did he think his baby girl was too grown up and didn't need him anymore and that I didn't want to talk to him? Did I break his heart when I rushed him off the phone to go to my oh-so-important dinner date? The path of destruction from a suicide is an unexplainable one. A hole left in the souls of the people left behind that nothing will ever fill and a hurt in me no man will ever come close to healing. And none I have met yet that are brave enough or strong enough to even try.
II
"Just when you think it can't get any worse, it can. And just when you think it can't get any better, it can."
— Nicholas Sparks (At First Sight)
February 27th was the end of the world to me. The man I always thought was superhuman showed me that it's not really true when people say God won't put more on you than you can handle. He gave my dad more than he could handle. If it were true that God wouldn't do that then no one would ever feel the need to end their own lives. And just when I thought I couldn't handle anymore my life took an even more tragic turn for the worse.
A few weeks after losing dad my doctor was trying to put me in a better state of mind for the sake of my health and my baby. So she did a 'sneak peek' ultrasound and I found out he was a boy. I was happy about that yet it made me sad because I couldn't call my dad with the great news that he was going to have the grandson he told me he dreamed about. I wanted so bad to pick up the phone and tell him that he was right- but I couldn't. But still, I was happy. I had been trying to decide between a few names and finally decided on Aiden Blaine. I thought it sounded so masculine yet modern and like a hero from a novel. I couldn't wait until my official 20 week ultrasound so that I could record it and show my mom and sister.
My son's father had to work the day of my official ultrasound so my best friend Mel went with me. It was Tuesday, April 10, 2007. Six weeks to the day exactly of when my dad took his life. After waiting for what seemed like forever in the waiting room we finally got called back. They don't do VHS recordings anymore so Mel had my digital camera and was recording the tv screen that the ultrasound was showing on. After a few minutes the tech asked her to stop recording and left the room. What seemed like another eternity passed before the tech came back with the doctor close behind her. Moving the machine around my abdomen again for a few minutes, the doctor got a disturbing look on her face and told me my son no longer had a heartbeat.
My choices were to either wait it out and let nature take its course or be induced and give birth to my baby boy at 20 weeks. I was admitted to the hospital and induced and my sleeping angel was delivered a little after midnight on April 12. His cord was wrapped. They estimated he had already been gone for at least a week so he wasn't even developed to the full 20 weeks yet. They called it a 'miscarriage' instead of a stillbirth so I didn't even get a death certificate or a funeral. It took weeks for him to be buried and for me to find out where. There was no closure. No chance to say goodbye. And the only photos I got are of his hands and feet because when the nurse asked me if I wanted pictures of his face I was too doped up to give it any thought. I was already crushed and this was the final blow.
I went back to work a week after losing my father so tragically and now I was going back to work a week and a half after losing my baby boy. I couldn't afford to take the time off I probably needed. When I went back to work I had an email that said "I know you're going through a lot but this is a crucial time and I need you to be on top of things." Yes, I'm serious.
So not only was I crushed and destroyed but I was angry and didn't even know who to be angry with. I had no time to deal with myself and no time to figure out how to grieve. Sure, I cried. But for the most part I did it when I was alone because no one else wanted to hear me. I was angry to the point of not even being able to be around my mom for a while other than an hour or so at a time because I couldn't deal with her talking about my dad. I couldn't handle her pain because I wasn't even able to handle mine. I felt like my son's father didn't really care and even wondered if he was relieved. Honestly, as time has passed, I've come to realize I was probably right.
What I would give now to hold my son. To know what color his eyes would have been or the color of his hair. To be able to kiss his dimples he would most likely have inherited from me. To be able to hear him say 'ma ma' or 'da da' for the first time. To be able to tuck him in at night. To have the 'boring' life of staying at home to cuddle with my baby boy and watch cartoons. He would be 2 1/2 now and although he'd be in his "terrible two's" and I'd be exhausted I'd give the world to have that chance.
III
"I finally understood what true love meant...love meant that you care for another person's happiness more than your own, no matter how painful the choices you face might be."
— Nicholas Sparks (Dear John)
Love. Undying, unconditional, real love. Most of us have had it at least once in our lives. And most of us let it go without realizing it until it's too late. We always think the grass is greener on the other side and that there's more to life than what we have at our fingertips. We always want what is beyond our grasp without realizing what we hold in our arms already. There is a part in the movie where John and Savannah are writing to each other looking at the full moon knowing the other is too- and thinking about each other so it's almost like they're together. That part of the movie took me back in time. I had a love like that once. But our 'full moon' were electric poles. (I know it sounds silly but think about it... almost all electric lines in this country are connected.) That love and I would talk on the phone when we were many miles away from each other and each go outside to touch an electric pole at the same time. That way we were connected physically and not just on the phone. We were young but it made perfect sense at the time. And to this day when the thought crosses my mind I still wish I could go touch an electric pole and know that I wasn't alone. At that moment I was home... and God how I miss that feeling.
But now, years later, past loves are happy in their own lives and are creating new memories. As for me... well, I'm not so sure. I've come to the conclusion that I have been going through a rebellious phase of some sort. I've tried to do some soul searching to try to figure out why I've turned out like I have but with no answers. I even question if I will ever be able to truly feel anything for anyone again. That is yet to be determined... I'm still waiting to feel 'home' again. I keep repeating in my head and it's become kind of common in my writings that "Home is where the heart is" and I know that until my heart is healed from whatever it is that keeps it in this state I'm destined to be a wanderer. Until then I'll just remain broken and live each day trying to put myself back together. I just wish I knew a better route than the one I've been taking.
IV
"When you're struggling with something, look at all the people around you and realize that every single person you see is struggling with something, and to them, it's just as hard as what you're going through."
— Nicholas Sparks (Dear John)
I know that the more I think about these things throughout this week and the next few weeks, the more emotional I will get. The slightest things like the weather being the same as the day things happened will spark an anxiety type feeling and possible brief tears. I know that throughout these next few weeks I will carry on and laugh as I always do and possibly not even show if or when something is bothering me. This is why I write. I sit alone in my apartment and can cry if I want to without feeling like I'm burdening anyone with my emotions. I can blog on this note without worrying about what someone is thinking of me and my inability to properly deal with my own issues. I can rant and rave in writing without being interrupted or having to deal with anything else in the world except my own thoughts. There are no pitiful looks of sympathy, no cheap words of how 'everything happens for a reason', and no awkward moments of people not knowing what to say.
This is my therapy.
Psychiatrists? Who needs 'em?
I have a keyboard.
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