could you promise me something menial? could you just tell me that you’ll always be lazy, and that you’ll never expect much of me but to waste time trying to waste time? you knooow, i sorta take you for granted; you are one of the most lovely things on this planet and most lovely things are indeed taken for granted. i know you, and you won’t always be around how you are, but i don’t want to experience that yet. so then it’s settled? you’ll always be here like a lethargic daydream- or, at least in my mind :)
“A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave. A soul mate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, and make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life.”—Elizabeth gilbert
"and we are so fragile, we are just breakable breakable breakable girls."
but no more. i’m so tired of being sad, and stressed, and emotionally torn. itrieditrieditrieeeeeed, i really tried for what was hardest for me, but the so called ” best thing to do.” you can never say i didn’t try.
sadly it’s all fini, for good. it will never be a different way because things will never be different. i never even got to kiss this all goodbye, it was brief, cold, and of my own accord. so maybe i sleep at night, but it doesn’t mean i live. it’s always one foot on the ground, no chance to be even picked up for a minute because that is how it must be. i’ve got no more room for wounds, i just don’t.
i know you have no interest in my state of being or your character flaws, i just thought i’d let you know.
you are where you are, nothing more. stuck in the present, hoping for the future, thinking about the past. i always wish it could end, and the next thing could start. but then someone told me that I am where I am. so yes, i have a bright future, and a dim past, but i also have the much neglected present.
I twist a curl of angel hair pasta that sprouts from my scalp around my pointer finger and I’m sad to leave a town that made me think so little about my own. and i’m sad to leave a girl who made me realize there i have a present, all i have to do is unwrap it.
Love is blind. Or more, we blind ourselves for love. We’re sad, lonely, and coded. And it seems as if Love perpetually knows the password to our lives, giving it full entry and exit whenever it pleases. So we take it when it comes, and long for it when it leaves, dream about it when we’re tucked in by heartbreak, and waste it when it stays. I guess it has to deal with never wanting what we have and looking for things that just aren’t there. Yet if you Nancy Drew, but you don’t solve the mystery, don’t fret because this mystery continues many chapters.
I’ve my flashlight in hand, and I’m ready to do the dirty work, but I must not blind myself if I am to know where I am going.
my world is a bubble; a filmy, reflective circle that encompasses my entire current life. Although i’m sharpening my tools for the day i pop out of here, I’m still in a contemplative state about many things. And it’s scary to think that when my life as I know it bursts, I’ll have no way to know if I had been floating over a safe landing, or if I will completely free-fall…
Talking with two men in a small coffee shop about Silent Springs, political agendas, and the state of our health care.
I made a statement something like, “why would I want to take a pill for a headache if the side affects are worse than my actual symptoms?” One of the men responded after some further discussion, “It’s a sick world. Good thing we have pills to cure it” with a wink and discreet smile.
A couple friendly little spiders have taken refuge in my bathroom, and I just don’t have the heart to tell them no. It’s been pretty cold in the past couple weeks, not necessarily recently, but I understand the want for a warm home. They aren’t harming me, they don’t take their stay for granted and invite all their friends. I think I’ll allow them to dwell, rent free, until I know they’ll flourish outside.
This love around I’m doing it for my sister who deserves more than a fucked up past and to have experienced love only from a psycho whose only way to love was to obsess and cause hurt. She yearns for better, and will get it. I’ve thrown away more than she’s ever known, and that just isn’t fair. Four years my senior should automatically knock me out in a heavy weight round, but she fatigues easily. I love you Emily, more than these males could think to. Remember, love cannot be artificially inseminated, it is a test of time.
It’s one thing to be hurt, it certainly is. But after all you deem yourself, all the times you compliment yourself a gentleman, a lover not a fighter, a realist who needs a change of everything, you could still knowingly fuck up? And you Mr. Living In The Wrong Decade, you think you’re owed people’s grace because you act like an asshole? Being a condescending brute to everyone doesn’t mean you were born in the wrong decade, it just means that you never learned how to act in this one. I watch black and white movies, listen to all the greats as you do. But the difference between you and I is that I understand Ella Fitzgerald when she speaks “Lost my heat, but what of it? He’s cold, I agree.” See you, and all the you’s out there, are what she sings about, why Billie Holiday sits in her chair filled with despair, its because of you. Love and let lose. You can’t win them all, I speak from experience. It comes to a point, sir, where you must grow up and understand that if love hasn’t wrapped its sensuous body around you then what you feel is some sort of suffocation of the cerebral cortex. A week is not long enough to know if you’re in love. And 2 years isn’t worth throwing away because love never knew if it was into you. I have made mistakes as we all have, said things that shouldn’t have been conjured in my head nor escaped through my mouth, but I could never hurt someone I loved, truly loved, almost on repeat. And I should think that if someone was always there for me I would honor their friendship with understanding and compliance. But I guess the head of a vaniteux is filled with hot air.
This girl and I, we’ve been through many of the same things, and although we aren’t the same person nor would we say or act in a cloned manner for most situations, we are nevertheless two birds of a ruffled feather. And just as you two do, we shall flock together. You’ve had your ducks, now it’s time for ours.
Halloween always has the same smell. It smells like the musty halloween box we keep all our dilapidated decorations. I don’t know where the smell comes from, but I like it. It reminds me of my sister and my brother- of my childhood I guess, the childhood that is long gone. But like my French teacher told me, “you live it out, and then you get to start the process all over again” creating nostalgia every year that passes with your own family. But for now, I have a good while before my biological clock wakes me from my prime years. Goodnight to the young at heart, may you always remember your musty Halloween smell.