romanticism: year in photo history format

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

dim the lights

J. Holiday ‘Bed’

I hear this song and I want to……slow dance. What did you think I was going to say? Hmm-hmm. I’ve got all the steps down, but my arms are empty. Isn’t it sad how a few states leave me with nothing to look forward to, and nothing to say? It’s a roundabout way for me to avoid the cliche of someone being ‘the whole world’ to me. Yes, Auto. There’s something about missing someone in every degree that is the reason you keep coming back around no matter what the circumstances. Some of those degrees just happen to linger a little longer than others. Longer than the smell of cologne in your hair.

sense vs self

Anna Nalick ‘Breathe’ 

I’m not angry, I’m disapointed. The last time I said that, someone was saying goodbye with the help (and subsequent detachment) of the keyboard. It killed him last time, and, without me even saying it, it did this time around as well. Here I am feeling sorry for myself, when I should be grateful I’ve still got him in any capacity whatsoever. Given what happened eight months ago, a little twinge of sigh-and-wait is really nothing.

I’ve got the Yahoo radio on, and Avril Lavigne’s ‘Hot’ is drifting out into the chilly air of my room, and I’m smiling (if you knew the Avril Christmas story I’ve told, you’d know, but you don’t so just settle knowing I’m not a huge fan) at her song, and surprisingly, the lyrics. It’s all true. Discontent is overrated, and I’ll get over it. I should be happy for him–New York City has to be awesome when the ball drops.

New Year’s, midnight, it’s all just a moment, and not truly a new beginning. That’s what I’ve been trying to avoid since the day after our first date, anyway.

being met halfway

Kelly Clarkson ‘Be Still’

That’s what I’m listening to, but I’ve got the lyrics for A Perfect Circle’s ‘3 Libras’ stuck in my head. I’m heartsick in the most pleasant way possible.

“difficult not to feel a little bit disappointed
and passed over
when i’ve looked right through
to see you naked and oblivious
and you don’t see me
but i threw you the obvious
just to see if there’s more behind the eyes
of a fallen angel
the eyes of a tragedy
here i am expecting just a little bit
too much from the wounded
but i see through it all
and see you”

I’m underweather, but I’m trying to fast track getting better. I have gift to give (late) and someone to hold. To experience. Wouldn’t we all get along better if we experienced people, instead of just talking, humouring, laughing, fighting, fucking? Honestly, there are all these moments we waste doing mundane tasks, interacting in the most boring ways, filling our lives with nouns and adjectives that add up to paragraphs of pointlessness at the end of the day.

Nothing is eye opening anymore. Sex, for instance, is just sex. No one makes love, no one really feels. It’s great, or good, end of story. There is nothing etheral or enrapturing about the looks he gives you or the way he breathes, holds you, or the desperate way you hold onto him. Like everything else in life, it’s a one night stand, even if not in the literal sense. There’s no feeling. Once it’s done, it’s over, and you move on with the rest of the bland series of actions that make up your life.

Why Understimulated?

Sixx:A.M. ‘Life is Beautiful’

Indeed it is. In an odd, unexpected way, it’s the masterpiece we fail to see when scrutinizing only the small imperfections.

I am strangely curious as to why my Mood: ‘Understimulated’ post has gotten such tremendous viewership. Is it the word itself, and if so, in what connotation? Are there hundreds of people sitting at home right now, drained, without a care, just occupying space, understimulated?

I’m going to turn to a song by a favoured group of mine. Breaking Benjamin’s ‘Rain’ : “Is it you I want, or just the notion of a heart to wrap around so I can find my way around?” Sometimes, we feel lost in the spectrum of life, emotionally perhaps, sexually, even in our own minds.

There’s always a cause and effect. So what happens in the course of your understimulation? Even after reading my depression inducing post, what changes, what happens next? Love, frustration, lonliness, anger, whistfulness, lack of direction–continually repeating the same action, the same thought process to gain the same conclusion is quite the definition of insanity.

a proposal for myself

Finch ‘Letters To You’

It’s Christmas, after dinner, I’m sitting at the dining room table talking with DD. I trust her with straight-forward opinions, and bringing me back down to earth. So I unfold the un-adventurous adventures of my romantic life in an abridged version.

She snickers and remarks ‘I can’t see you being madly in love with anyone.’ She could see me madly in lust, or madly in like, but heartfelt passion, longing, unrequitted romantic intentions just don’t strike her as being very typically me. So, she deduces, it must be real. If I could act so drastically out of character, and open myself to her ridicule (it’s the sworn duty of sisters, I suppose), then he must be it.

Rewind to watching P.S. I Love You in the theatre with Lace. I’m watching the swooning, classical-music-in-the-background scene of true love actualized, and for the briefest moment, I doubt myself. I say, there will be others, other opportunities, other epic moments, and other places to combine all of them into a similar, fate-sealing glimpse at a love extraordinary.

My hesitation then rests again on his shoulders as I ponder just how I know, when my hands shake, when I fall silent, when I soften at his insecurities, and cry for his loss, that he is not the one I shared ‘the end of life as I know it’. The thing is, in the midst of my thousandth rambling confession, I don’t really know.

I do know that the world is round, and as much as I have in fact, unbeknownst to others, turned away from him and run through another opening, my silent remorse when the door shuts behind me, and my elation when another opens and I’ve come full circle back to him, far outshines any real proof.

euphoria

Ryan Star ‘We Might Fall’

A good night, considering the circumstances of missing a dead brother and all.

Family coming over, and perhaps more pleasant. There’s going to be a bit of booze anyway. Ha. Presents, of course. Items I bought weeks and weeks ago, I can’t wait for them to see. And, of course, the old unrequited love, in a pleasant and talkative mood. Full of ‘I’d love to’s and ‘you should be here’s. Full of kill me moments, plans, news, things he’s not told, and playful-ness. It’s lifting me up and crushing me simultaneously.

I will continue the saga later on tonight, or tomorrow. Work at 4am after all. I can already feel the tension in the air. It’s not a terrible feeling though, it’s the losing clothes tension, it’s letting go, it’s remembering and forgetting at the same time, it’s killing the pain, it’s consuming the lonliness, it’s loving and holding back at the same time, it’s making eye contact. It’s not having to say anything at all.

A Merry Christmas after all, perhaps.

The actions aren’t literal…

but this is how you feel. At the same instant it happens, your world crashes down around you.

There’s a reason it’s illegal. Think about it. You’re not just hurting yourself.

more questions than answers

P. Diddy featuring Faith Evans ‘I’ll Be Missing You’

December 24th, 1999

They took him from me. The man with too much to drink, the emergency medical team, the doctors, God. They all did. I felt him leave me and I knew nothing would ever be the same. I have not accepted it to it’s fullest degree, and for the rest of my life, I’ve sworn to be a broken girl with a broken family portrait.

I stood over his grave today, talking to a skeleton in a box covered in dirt. Talking to a cold, grassy patch with nothing new to say at all. I miss you. I love you. You’re the other part of me, so why’d you give up? How’s a twin brother gonna look out for his sis? Watching from heaven?

All the same, I pray, I hold vigil, and I never forget.

open arms and closed doors

The Killers ‘Tranquilize’ 

I’m going to paraphrase here…be prepared.

“Determination is good, but you have to know when enough is enough. It’s a pride thing. You have to realize when it’s just not going to happen, not going to work out.”

I think I just did. Helping or not, I’ve already gone there, yes I remember the torture quite clearly…sitting on the phone avoiding and avoiding while you press and push and won’t let up. What is it about love, and risk? All that advice about taking chances and being happy for once goes right out the window when someone’s got a vested interest in my sweetest downfall. I am drownding in hypocrisy. I have to hang up the phone, with all the politeness I can muster. How. dare. you.

Think I don’t know that? Think I don’t know when to draw the line, throw in the towel, take a bow, let go, walk away, say goodbye and go? Think I don’t ever want to? But love, not faux-attachment, keeps the lover coming back, holding on, looking through the tears, waiting and wishing, standing by……