at war

JUST STOP TALKING.

I DON’T WANT TO HEAR HOW IT’S ALL THE SAME. I’M A HYPOCRITE, BUT IN ALL MY GLORY, I WAS THE LAST AND THE BEST. I WAS THE GOLDEN GIRL WHO WALKED AWAY, CRUSHED, AND ROSE ABOVE, BROKE THE SURFACE, EMERGED HAPPY AND DESERVING OF LOVE. NOT OF YOURS.

I WANT YOU TO TELL ME I WAS GREAT, LIKE YOU HAVE, BUT I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THOSE WORDS. I WANT TO BELIEVE IT WAS SOMETHING ELSE ENTIRELY.

I CERTAINLY DO NOT WANT TO HEAR THAT SHE JUST LEFT. IT’S NEARLY 2AM

I WANT TO GET SICK. I WANT TO PULL MY HAIR OUT. I WANT TO GET MARRIED AND INVITE YOU SO YOU CAN SEE ME IN MY WHITE DRESS. I WANT YOU TO REMEMBER LOOKING AT ME AND REMEMBER WHAT YOU SAID. REMEMBER?

“I WANT A PRETTY WIFE, A DECENT HOUSE, AND A FAST CAR THAT SLEEPS IN THE DRIVEWAY. YOU’RE SUCH A PRETTY GIRL…”

I WANT YOU TO FEEL THE HURT AS MUCH AS I DID. DO? FUCK. WHATEVER.

YOU COULD EVEN BRING YOUR 6-PACK OF BUDLIGHT AS YOUR DATE. SWEET NOSTALGIA ALL AROUND.

I DON’T KNOW WHY I KEEP LETTING YOU IN.

I AM NOT ASHAMED. I AM HOWEVER, DETERIORATING JUST A BIT.

tar and feather me

Before I know it the words and the tears are pouring out. Damn. I can’t stop myself. Why are we all so fucking masochistic?

I’m sorry I stopped trying.

I’m sorry….this and that, and what does it matter.

My face is swollen. I’m a nightmare. It’s almost 2, my shoulders are screaming. My head is screaming too. It forms the words, loud and clear, ‘betrayl’. Have I committed any real offense? No. Do I feel emotionally horse-quartered? Yes.

I need sleep. I need to put this all behind me. Or, I need time to myself. That’s why I need to move, away. If I just flew solo for a bit, would I turn out enhanced, defined in my own light, and refreshed, clear-headed? Would I fly home against the wind and return defeated, and full of regret?

Would I miss you?…………………………………………………………….still?

I changed a word so it applied (applies?) to me

Trapt ‘Ready When You Are’

“Sex is something I really don’t understand too hot. You never know where the hell you are. I keep making up these sex rules for myself, and then I break them right away. Last year I made a rule that I was going to quit horsing around with [guys] that, deep down, gave me a pain in the ass. I broke it, though, the same week I made it – the same night, as a matter of fact.”

It is my goal in life to find him. Holden Caulfield, where are you? He’s so damned believable, I swear Salinger had him locked in a basement somewhere, and I’m going to track him down and set him free.

Way-back-when, when life was seemed so pleasantly uncompromised, I had the world by the tail. All I had to do was open my mouth, and say a few little words. All I had to do was insist, demand, follow, badger, and most of all, care. Instead, I took a vow of silence, and now I’m sworn by that. It means all the overflow, the excess, the shoulda-woulda-coulda’s come stay trapped and screaming in my head. It means I have to wonder.

I swore I’d do it right, so I never had to question myself. I tried for so long to let that question go, in every situation and circumstance, and now I’m here, bound, for better or for worse (irony please? thank you) asking (to myself) ‘What If?’

piece and quiet

Jason Mraz ‘Details In The Fabric’

I’ve waited so long to be alone. I could almost taste the quiet. Am I afraid of being alone? Do I always need someone, regardless of the effect?

In other news, I had another wedding dream. Sad right? Not when you have someone vowing weekly, at least, to put me in that white dress. It was a later-on-in-the-night snapshot of me looking at said snapshots of the event.

He was in the background. Almost a shadow, but more defined. Almost a ghost but slightly more real. His brown eyes pierced the emulsion of the paper to return my surprised, tender gaze. He was mine. His dark hair dimly highlighted in the room and I saw his smile, even if it wasn’t there. I had seen it hundreds of times before, in the privacy we loved so much. He was mine. Well, was he? Where was I exactly, and how had the events of the day played out? I didn’t know. I just sat there with tears rolling down my cheeks and stared at a pile of photos.

I never allow myself much to go on.

do you get what you pay for?

Rachael Yamagata ‘Reason Why’

The gaps are getting bigger, the happier I become.

Like I’ve said (but in my usual form of beating a dead horse) I almost enjoy being miserable and alone more. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I’m guilty of missing him a bit. Is that wrong?

I like to think all my time with Auto wasn’t a waste, and he came away with something from it all as well. Maybe it wasn’t a love unrequitted and a heavy heart like me. Maybe it wasn’t a new-found truth, or a better love. Maybe it was nothing more than a loss and a dash of bitterness. Even so, I’d like to think all the things he’s said to me since then are true. I’d like to believe he is sorry, and that I am a good woman.

I’m not always as good as I look.

There’s always this odd guilty feeling when his face drifts through my mind. I look at my new flame, buring bright and flickering. Sometimes, I believe he’s shining so as to demand my attention and consciously keep me close. Other times, I believe it is just his passion incinerating all sensibility to expose him wholly infatuated. I return his longing, affectionate gaze.

past-due

The Cranberries ‘Linger’

I’ve always been one to keep my word. There was a heated conversation a fortnight ago, and I would not admit fault. I cried, I questioned, I rejected.

Now I remember. I said, above all else, I was a friend. But what I felt would guide me, through ambivalence and pain, through indecision and hurtful words to shine a light bright enough. I asked, but really told in an accusatory tone, that my affections were, and would be lost. The weight I always bore, tossed off. The reflection in my eyes shut out. The perserverance, dissolved in the last tears I shed one night back in May.

Something better came along, and that is when I really made up my mind. There are times I realize I haven’t grown up at all. I didn’t turn back because I was morally bound. I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain, swearing when everyone else abandoned ship, I would be there still, heartbroken even, but steadfast nonetheless.

Now?

Now the only thing I can do is apologize. Say I let you down, and it just wasn’t right. Say it doesn’t matter how much the little things hurt me, I swore I’d love you no matter the consequence. I was wrong, and in your own detached way, you were right. I owe you this much, at least. I owe you all those things we never did, but I can’t do that now. I owe you a thank-you too, for all the times I wonder if I’m not strong enough, not willing enough to stick by someone in their hardships affecting me. He should thank you too, but he would never, not knowing how the bitterness swells during the hard times, and how I take what we had together and use it, make my future better. I will think of you, and I will know with all my and your silent assurity that what aches and burns from the past, what kept me longing for another few hours, that will see me through in my present.

You’re not all bad. Maybe you’re a good man after all.

So, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry if it doesn’t mean anything anymore, but really, it hasn’t been that long, has it?

stopping off or staying

Ben Folds ‘Landed’

or leaving for good?

Next summer I may be back off to clouds, gray skies and peace. Peace of mind, certainly, but I suppose it all depends on my detachment/attachment to this hollow apartment. It’s filled with things, with people, and with laughs, but all somehow dissatisfying.

Selfish of me? Why yes. I almost can’t wait–assuming it all goes off without a hitch–to empty evening streets in Brighton, and Marmite on crackers. A solitary holiday to pay respects to a dearest nanny, a quick visit to my cousins–like estranged siblings we’d greet–and then hour long trips in the underground to spend the majority of my week alone. I want to fill my lungs with the high-smog and watch the changing of the guard. I want to stay and forget.

Just Jack ‘Heartburn’

no such thing as fairytales

The Submarines ‘Xavia’

He wants to plan. Future tense, but it’s about to happen. A life. Togetherness. I can see my will, and he’s in it. Oh my.

Miss B cancelled the trip to meet her E-Harmony boyfriend. She said she’d be fine. I worry for her, and what she’s doing–desperate to have something that’s more smoke and mirrors than she’d like to believe. Why does everyone do it? I’ve said before, is it so bad?

I love him, but there is no happily ever after. It doesn’t happen. Somewhere, something, someone falls apart. I had a head-start.

I watch my friend struggle, not understanding why the girl he loves is turning into someone else entirely.

I think back to my times with Cory. And that movie, Catch and Release. I am that girl. It did take loosing him to see myself, and him, more completely.

There is a need for clarity. I lie awake while he sleeps and wonder why I’m hammering the square peg into the round hole. When did I like this? I do. But still. No one seems to think it suits me well. I am happier, they say. I smile, laugh more, fill the room with less distant looks and silent nods. He is perfect. It is why I feel like I need to run and hide.

Comfort to me was hanging by a thread. I came to expect it, and it was all I expected from anyone. Auto burned me, but I loved the itch of a healing wound. I am sick.

I could back-date this

Aqualung ‘Easier to Lie’

He didn’t know what I hated, and didn’t know that my nose gets cold and red. I know who does, all my ghosts.

As I look down at wrist, hand, knuckles, skin stretched taught and pale across the surface, I realize I don’t need a ring on that all so important finger. I’m not entirely sure I want to be happy, all barefoot in the grass chasing butterflies and shit. Why can’t I be angry, remorseful, crying and shaking my head? Why is it we all want to be so fucking happy? Is it really that spectacular not just being alone?

do we really understand?

Jimmy Eat World ‘Carry You’

I can’t sleep. It’s not 3am, so I should be thankful. The sun is out and there is no work, but so much to do. I wish I could articulate just how I feel, waking up to faith, every morning and not understanding why I’d rather live alone. Sitting by myself, I’m torn. I miss him, and I don’t understand exactly how I wound up attached and still feeling so cold. My hands are numb. I don’t get me. Someone does, but I’m not sure he deserves this. I made a silent oath to myself and a verbal one to myself. He made one to me, as he played with my ring finger. The cynic smiles and nods, saying as a snide aside that we’re kids, and we all say things we don’t really mean.