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| I think at some point in the madness of knowing you, I fell in love with you.
Dammit.
How did that happen? I don't believe in love.
I just sat down with my brain and my heart and we all agree.
I'm pathetic.
But you don't know. And I'm not sure you'd care even if you did.
It's been three years and they've crawled by
dragging me through
dragging you along with me
I am so sorry I invited you into my chaotic life.
I shouldn't have let you accept the invitation.
I'm so sorry
but not for myself.
You need out of my mind.
You've said in passive words that I wouldn't be good enough for you.
Besides, could you really give me what I need?
Could I really commit to someone like you?
Hell, you still live with your parents.
But every time we talk and every time you look at me,
something rises in my heart... something that says I have a chance at happiness.
But I get none of that from you.
You're a good conversationalist and know some fancy words
but I don't think you'd give me that happiness that maybe I deserve.
It was a nice thought in the side of my brain that allows fantasy.
I don't think you're too into fantasy though.
God, I live in fantasy.
I need to get rid of this. Of you.
Maybe three years in a monastery would do the trick.
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| I wake up daily to the sound of the train screaming through the city. Screaming.
It's my alarm clock but only if I feel like getting up at 8am.
Other days I sleep in after it's over the bridge.
The crows have been here for a while.
They dance and cry in the steam that shoots up from the cold ground.
I tumble out of bed and down the stairs.
I usually end up slipping from the edge of the last one.
If my roommates are home, they've been awake for a while.
One or two may even have felt like going to work today.
I'm a night owl. I prefer the early hours of the morning
to play the role of bedtime.
The air is sweet at night in the city.
The dust settles down and sometimes you can see the stars from my window.
I enjoy life here. It's simple for me.
I moved from the mountains but must always keep them as a back drop.
I belong nestled in a cold valley city in the North.
We suit each other well. | | |
| So this is the New Year...
I think it's going to be a good year, not a tire or a blimp.
I think I may be able to move into the style of living I love
Simple and elegant simultaneously.
I am overly optimistic in this cold weather. It's quite fun actually.
My life is going to be amazing.
I am going to live out some dreams that have been laying dormant in the next 365 days
and it's going to be fun.
I'm going to take a road trip again.
I am going to kiss a beautiful man that I don't know, walk away, and not feel a twinge of guilt.
I am going to drive over 100mph and not get caught this time.
I am going to somehow figure out how to enjoy the summer.
I am going to start writing again.
I am going to play with sidewalk chalk with the neighborhood kids after school.
I am going to put a loud exhaust on my car.
I'm going to paint my fingernails dark blue.
I'm optimistic. I just thought I'd type that out. Maybe it'll help convince myself.
| | |
| for C
You are as alluring as a stretch of highway
at midnight
after it rained
so it's shining
with silver glitter raindrops.
I don't know where you go
or where you've been
or where you point
or what you see at the end
of the stretch of highway
with glitter raindrops
and a mixed CD
playing in the deck.
The details of you are blurry like the lines
but they're gold and white like your spirit
so inside you must be beautiful
like music playing
fog lights on
sunroof open
windows down
heat blasting
50 degrees outside
100 degrees in
because you're as alluring
as the burning sun
I'm not supposed to stare
but I never followed rules before
sun spots in my eyes
blacked out face
smile shining
mix CD spinning
Death Cab crooning
passenger's seat
bare foot on the side view mirror.
| | |
| Disclaimer: The truth does not always set you free. Read with care.
I swear to you I’ve never been a jealous person
There are a few times that I can really pick out
that I have coveted my neighbor’s possession(s)
well, it really wasn’t a possession at all.
I don’t say this to contrive pity or sympathy
(I’m not much of a tea drinker).
I really think I’m okay now. I drink a little too much liquor sometimes.
I have a tendency to drop four letter words like they nothing,
but I genuinely love people. (I really do.)
I’m just jealous.
I’m really jealous.
I used to wonder when I was about eight years old what it would be like
to have my dad live with me or live with my dad.
I imagined that we lived together like when he visited me every other weekend
but he wouldn’t ignore me like he was used to doing.
And he wouldn’t stop visiting me when he got a new girlfriend.
I used to be really jealous of my friend Kristen.
I liked going to her house to play Barbies because she had the Dream House,
the Barbie version and the real life version.
Her mom was allowed to stay home and her dad went away everyday to work.
He would kiss her mom right on the lips when he came home with his empty lunch pail.
Sometimes he had a leftover cookie that he let us split.
Her mom was always cooking too. She liked to do it.
Kristen and I liked to do the dishes for her.
I ran into Kristen a few years ago.
She is married and has a son and her parents are still together.
They probably still kiss on the lips too.
My mom is amazing but she wasn’t my father.
My father left me when I was five years old.
I told all of my classmates that I didn’t have a daddy anymore.
My teacher told my mom I needed counseling.
My mom said that I needed my father.
A few weeks ago, a very upstanding-on-a-pedestool member of my church
said that I was dishonoring my father because I changed my last name when I turned 18.
I told her it wasn’t my responsibility or my concern if my father felt dishonored.
I told her that I felt dishonored when he put a hole in the wall with my twelve year old shoulder.
I told her I felt dishonored when I had to ask him not to come to my graduation.
I told her I felt dishonored when he called me for the first time in seven years just to find out about his grandson.
I told her I didn’t like her very much and I would like to slap her in her pompous little face for even suggesting that I should care whether or not my father felt dishonored.
I am your everyday statistic of female child that is a product of a twice-broken home.
I have slept around in hopes of finding a man to fill the father-shaped void in my life.
I have done drugs and drank myself into oblivion, trying to numb the pain that has been in my broken heart for so long.
I have taken sleeping pills to ignore the grotesque vision of my childhood that has haunted me for 24 years.
I have gone crazy religious hoping I could do enough good deeds to cancel out all of the a fore mentioned sins.
But I have come to the conclusion that the pain that I have experienced has helped me to love to some extent.
I do not carry around emotional baggage, just a healthy dosage of jaded bitchiness that likes to make an appearance every now and then.
{temporarily end stream of thought}
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