February 8th, 2007
|08:03 pm - I join you in your sleep and slowly close my eyes. Together we remain, our love the tie that binds.|
Come 5 AM I realize my body was not cut out for missing people. My head aches but my heart still beats in tune with his and that's all that matters. Because what can you do at times like these except ignore the beating of your head and the throbbing behind your ears and listen to the plea of your heart. My hands are getting sweaty and my feet are getting sore but my grip is staying strong and my heart is staying true. I'd give it all up for you. And so I sleep my days away, napping during the afternoon and losing hope at night, letting my body fall into the hard mattress and my head fall onto something that will never truly catch me. At least in my dreams I can see how it would be, and that's enough to get me through. Tonight I won't have to blink back the tears because even though my heart is open, my eyes will be closed. Because tonight I'll let the shower water beat across my face and open my mouth to let it swell with water. I'll swallow two extra strengths and close my eyes and lean my forehead against the porcelain wall and feel the water beat on my back. Eyes closed, mind cleared, heart open. Isn't that how it's supposed to be?
"She was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. 'All right' I said, 'I'm glad it's a girl. And I hope she'll be a fool - that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.' " - The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.
Current Music: All at Once by The Fray
|02:20 pm - I was determined in Chicago but I dug my teeth into my knees.|
The second she decides to give up is the very moment he comes through, and all the thoughts she ever had of leaving are washed away. As they bubble down the drain, she reaches for them but suddenly her life is filled with amazement and wonder once again, until the moment he leaves again. Se can hold on at first, the memories are enough to get her by and keep her grip strong and her heart fond. Then comes the day she starts to fade again, using her most clever innuendo to beg him to just come back, please, just for tonight, if we just have tonight I'll be okay again. No one catches onto subtleties apparently, and here she's left trying to hang on to what they have all on her own, but eventually it's just to much. She says "if he doesn't show tonight, I'm gone." The only sign of him is his ghost and the memory of how he used to be, and she knows what will happen because she knows them. But her heart can't take it anymore, and she decides, in the morning I give up. The day breaks and she breaks with it. But there he is, the crack of dawn, standing at her door, as if he knew, he just knew, what his fate would be if he hadn't. He puts her pieces back together, frees her spirit, cages her heart.. as he whispers in her ear a poem that she vaguely recalls. "We'll nightingale sing like when perched on high. In glory's cage, thy glory, bright and thankfully, for joy." Next time I should just spell it out, she whispers. Skip the subtleties, fast forward over the pain. But now he says it, the words she knew were coming, the words her heart wished he could refrain from speaking, from feeling, just once. One time, if he stayed with her just one time, she would be satisifed. But no one's ever satisfied anymore, and he knows that one time would lead her to think that he would again, she would wish for another day. One more day is never enough for anyone. So he pivots on his heel and says "Now I must go" as he kisses the top of her head and she blinks back the tears. "Okay" her mouth forms the word, but her body doesn't have the strength to speak. Speak up! her mind screams. Run after him! her heart cries. But now the silence is perpetually lodged in her throat, and there's no going back to the way things used to be.
"I have to remind myself that some birds weren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knew it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice. But your world is just that much colder and emptier when they're gone. I don't know... maybe I just miss my friend." - The Shawshank Redemption
Current Music: The Calendar Hung Itself by Bright Eyes
February 7th, 2007
|07:53 pm - "I must say" she admits "I'm not quite sure where to go from here"|
I saw her there, squatting in the corner, toes gripping the carpet, arms wrapped around herself. "Normal people don't sit in the corner" a cold and distant voice says. Upon hearing these words, I see her weep silently into her own palms. Whatever people consider to be normal never is, and yet she didn't want anyone to hear her tears. I'm not hiding, she whispered aloud. I'm not lying to myself, she said it a little bit louder this time. I'm not even being myself, she thought to herself. Where did I go wrong, with this thought churning in her mind I see her body start to twitch nervously. She slides herself down the wall she's leaning against and her legs are laying out in front of her. As she counts the freckles from her toes to her thighs, I can see her mouth the words. I realize she's not counting freckles at all, she's counting the scars. She kisses each one as her mouth forms the number. When she reaches imperfection-of-skin number twenty, she pulls each foot under the opposite thigh and sits cross legged on the floor as tears trickle down her face. One tear drops at an angle, and she catches it before it lands on her knee and rubs the tear along her bottom lip. Where do I go from here she begs, as she lays down on the harsh, unwelcoming carpet and her eyes flutter as she hums herself to sleep. "Hush little baby, don't say a word..."
Current Mood: lost
Current Music: Nothing Better by The Postal Service
|04:59 pm - Impossible to forget. Hard to remember.|
Conversation once colored by esteem became dialogue as a diagram of a play for blood. Took a vacation, my palate got clean, now I can taste your agenda while you're spitting your cud.
"What is this posture I have to stare at?" That's what he said when I was sittin' up straight. Change the name of the game 'cause he lost it and he knew he was wrong but he knew it too late. But I'm not being fair 'cause I chose to listen to that filthy mouth. But I'd like to choose right, take all the things that I've said that he stole put 'em in a sack swing 'em over my shoulder, turn on my heels, step out of this sight, try to live in a lovelier life.
She backs away and his eyes follow her until her face becomes a blur in the mob of people surrounding them. Her body gets smaller and smaller as her life travels away from him until it's as if she was never really there at all. And on this day, she realized that she would never travel this road again. Her feet would never retrace those footprints. They were eachother's substitutes; everyone's always just waiting for something better to come along. Or so she thought. Revelations can't be generalized, she realized. You can't blame a new love for an old love's mistakes. Something that is true for your time spent with one person will never be true for time spent with another. So let it be, breathe it in, and never accept the thought of "Tomorrow." There is only today. There can only be today. You and I, we only have today. Tomorrow the world we know may not be here. Then what would we do? Appreciate the time that you have someone with you, do not hold onto the past, do not grasp onto the future. "Tomorrow will be better." No. Today. Today. We only have today. Love in the present tense. Live in the present tense.
Current Music: Not About Love by Fiona Apple
February 6th, 2007
|02:14 pm - I never spoke to her the words I had in my heart, if she heard them now would she still care?|
I saw her eyes dim and glaze over, wondering. She looked back over her shoulder, grazing the desolation to see if they were being followed by hollow eyes. I heard her whisper to him, the words feeling safe in her mouth, "Passion. Rhetoric, feed me pretty lies" as she flicks his ear with her tongue. I see the deceit in his eyes, the longing in hers. The glimmering trasparency is replaced with a need to feel as though they belong. Not to eachother. But to this world. "Kiss me somewhere new." And as he kissed the backs of her knees she sighed, because what she really meant was "Somewhere where no one can find us; our own world." His piercing eyes desperately seek answers, tracing her every freckle and laughter line. "I'm melting" he says, but I see, and I know that in actuality, he's freezing. His lips quivering and his flesh chilling and his bones chattering in tune with her heart's only cry.
But my eyes have since grown weary for the time I saw them grasp onto eachother to escape the said freezing of their bodies, but really the freezing of their hearts, has long since come and gone. I see him open his arms, but her eyes are now filled with passion and love and protection. He snuggled close to her, trying to hide her, their very own "behind the bleachers" cliche. He wasn't ashamed, he said. He was scared. He was jittery and nervous, but she was unaware of anyone in the world but the two of them at that very moment in time. But not the two of these two, no. Her heart yearned for another and he didn't want to lose what he had found. But he had already found another and her chance at real love was right around the corner. That was the day he left. The day he knew he never gave to her what she needed from him. And yet she still posessed it. But not from him, and on this day, he finally knew it. New seeds bloom, beautiful and fresh, as I exhale and then breathe in the scents of sweet intangibles.
A little part of me thinks it could have ended differently, if at all. Maybe if hearts didn't roam and people didn't change. Maybe if time didn't rearrange. But, distance doesn't always make us stronger, and sometimes all we really are is bitterly aroused. Maybe there are just some souls that you are truly destined to encounter and give yourself completely to. He did not posess this soul, the soul that matched her soul.
"Please go" I smile politely, looking over his shoulder, past him. I don't need to look down to feel his toes shifting inside of his shoes, the movement sending an earthquake straight to my heart. His body didn't move and his eyes darted, searching my face for an ounce of sympathy, possibly the key to his redemption. "Go," now gritting my teeth. He walked away, backwards for the first few steps. I became a master of the art of "last looks" in those months, and this one took the cake. Had I know that it would come back to haunt me, I wouldn't have paid such close attention to the beauty it posessed in its destruction.
Current Music: Outlaw Heart (Rockabilly) by Tiger Army
February 5th, 2007
|06:42 pm - The time machine of the mind can never replace "feel"...|
So here I am. This complicated web of emotions that's really not that hard to figure out. The old me is fighting for its spot back. The new me is torn - between the past and the present. Torn in opposite directions, a part of me wonders, can't I have both? One who trys to build up my web, feed it lies, eventually becoming the helpless prey that gets trapped, just asking to be attacked. The other breaks my web down while insisting on how beautiful it is. Is this my road, the path I'm supposed to travel? Can't the former be the beginning of my road, and the latter be my glorious light at the end of the tunnel? I realize the beginning of my path is no less important than my destination. But I yearn not to find my destination. I yearn to allow myself to find joy in the travelling.
Bode Miller's Nike campaign for the 2006 Olympics stated "Join Bode. Join the bold, the brazen, the unintimidated. Join something bigger than you. Join the unwillingness to give in. Join the idea that fun is the source of all joy. Join doing things your way. Join not joining" For a minute in time I wasn't lost. And then to watch him squander away everyone's hope and admiration for him, flying down a mountain in a drunken oblivion, my hope was lost. I joined Bode. I joined. I decided to venture down the paths now covered with debris, fallen leaves, fallen trees. The path less travelled, the path that was lost and forgotten. I went to the Join Bode website, and was greeted with the following message: "Thanks for sharing this experience with the people around you, for sharing your beliefs, your convictions, your creeds, yourselves. You all made Join Bode more than just a website. You helped build a forest." So why do I feel as though the forest has been burned to the ground? Why do I feel as though I was forced to stand alone in a desolate area while those around me hadn't yet realized that the forest was gone? Most of all, why do I want to hang on to these very people? Let go. Let, go. LET GO.
He doesn't love me and he never did. The love that was never really love at all can't last "forever." I still do exist. I'm right here. The person that you once knew no longer exists, but that person wasn't me, it isn't me. Being in love with the way someone makes you feel is different than being in love with a person. I hope you realize it, but this is a journey for knowledge that I cannot aid you in. You must travel the road all by yourself. You must feel the desolation where the forest once stood. You must feel weak and vulnerable in the same spots where we had once made eachother feel strong and invincible. Good luck with your journey. I may be there to greet you at the end of your road, and I may not be. But the MEMORY of me will always be in your heart. For me always being in your heart, I cannot make that promise. The true me is not for you, she is not good for you, and I can honestly say and whole heartedly believe that you don't deserve her.
I am no longer broken. I am not yet whole, and I will never be. But I've been shown to love the imperfections, to not be ashamed.
Someday I will build a forest in the dirt you left me with. MY forest. The one I've yearned for for so long.
I see a seed sprouting, a root forming, a love growing...
Current Mood: optimistic
|04:17 pm - There's no rhyme and there's no reason. There's no logic, so please believe me.|
My clearest thoughts come to me at that state between being awake and being asleep. I was in this state last night, where my thoughts were at their purest. I didn't try to understand because I wasn't thinking, I was just feeling. I vaguely remember opening up a notepad file during this state of dancing with the line between falling asleep and being awake. I woke up this morning and all the notepad file said was "backhome." I realized that I want to record my thoughts rather than the day to day triviality that I won't remember in a few months. convents also sparked my desire to write again, to view the world in a different way, so join me on my journey if you'd like. All of these entries will be public. Add me if you'd like, or just browse through, all I ask is that you leave wondering.
Current Music: natasha bedingfield/unwritten