Thursday, April 16, 2009

do not fuck with me.

just a word of advice.

11:37 p.m.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

honestly?
I want to say I'm over him just because it would hurt him.
But that isn't a good enough reason to do anything at all anymore. he's gone.
so am I.

08:19 p.m.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

I miss him, but not the way I used to. I rarely am kept up at night by thoughts of him. But last night I dreamt again that I met his girlfriend and again I told her how hurt and angry I was. And again all I got was an, "I know."
things don't change just because I want them to. All our separate spheres just bobbing around, sometimes bumping up against each other, they don't mean much if you can't get inside them. there is nothing I can do anymore. I have everything back from him that I cared to get. everything else is just a prisoner of war, never to be rescued.
I still think I'll open my email one day there will be a message from him. I still think he's going to contact me. I don't know if he will. I wish I didn't care.
I still miss him and it hurts, but not like it used to. now it's just dogged ignorance. my long ago ex once said, "if you're going to fuck up, do it with conviction." gotta give the otter that much. he's not fucking around with fucking around.
the pin was pulled. who saved us all by landing on the grenade? what was their motivation?

what's my motivation?

07:22 a.m.

Monday, April 13, 2009

things aren't going faster, they're just closer together. I can now simultaneously feel how it is to be the friend and the friendee. the person that wants, and the person that is wanted. it is disconcerting. how do I want to be treated? am I on a pedestal or sculpting the bust? who will make my statue real? who will bring me to life?

what if pygmalian's stone had awoken only to find it was happier with someone else? what if she had a really annoying laugh? what if he tossed her aside and just kept sculpting, waiting to get it right? what if he never did? what if he was imagining the whole thing and spent his days in his studio beside his cold lover's body and just wasted away? Is that love?

my definitions have been distorted by the pain in my chest. it's tight today. it's anxiety. this is a tough week, and I can't seem to get any of it right. can't do it all on time. I am balancing delicately and if one more item is placed in my hands I am going to topple.
sometimes I feel ready. other times I know I'm about to fall. can you feel the tension?

do you know what I am saying?

01:38 p.m.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

tasted like alcohol and cigarettes and he kissed me first as we sat on the couch. I could feel his tenseness, tangible between us. his bad day; my bad brain.
it's a cycle of get upset, back down, try again. sounds familiar. is this what I attract now? is this what I do?

I wonder if his parents are still together.

no, I am not ready for it.
when I stop writing entries about robbie, then I'll know the time has come to try again. until that point, let the river cover me and wash all others away.

10:18 p.m.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

you congealed on my surface. now I'm skimming you off. a bitter skin, dull and ashamed. I am throwing you away piece by piece; can't seem to get it all at once. can't quite coagulate into a solid form.
I am staying in motion to keep you at bay because these quiet moments are when you form again. the stillness summons you, and suddenly I am smothered by the membrane that is your memory.
can't breathe.
can't breathe.
heart racing.
peel off the caul. I am ready to live. live, and be without you and the stillness you inspired.

12:01 p.m.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

sometimes I write like he reads these. he wanted to start at the beginning and read every entry and I said, "that's years worth. it will take forever." we thought we had forever. there was always time. there would always be another chance. another shot at greatness.
oh no. oh no no no no no. not this time.
do you remember the name of this website? you wanted to know me, but wouldn't read who I was online. you were old-fashioned. don't you know we're all digital now? didn't you want to read about my dreams; my pain; my love; my hope? there have always been things I cannot say but will willingly write about. I was writing for you, but you never read it. I was writing for you, and never told you.
there is no blame, only disappointment. there is no victim, or abuser. just subjectivity and the question of "what good are words anyway?"

ha.

09:43 a.m.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

and I said,
I said
"someday I'll be in a relationship and it will be just me and that person. not me, that person, and all my previous relationships."

since 18 my track record has been terrible. that's my entire adult life; ten years. for ten years I have been on the rebound. what does that say about me?
I don't know, but I'm willing to rewrite the history that would have been if I'd gone from him to someone new. I'm ready to learn from my other mistakes and cut the circle at the seam.

break.
broken.
yet whole.

02:29 p.m.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

tear the offending paper in half. rip our names apart, ensure that they are separate. I am already fading from you, and it's going to be fine. sometimes my heart still aches, hollow. makes my teeth hurt. dull throbbing.
what is it about me that attracts people who do not come from broken homes? I remember being young, maybe middle school, and my mom railing on my dad for not helping with housework. reasonable. my mom worked as a physical therapist, then came home and took care of our 7-13 horses, and managed to make dinner from scratch. needless to say, the house was always messy. so one day my dad cleans out one of the junk drawers (we had many). I remember him being proud and excited. my sister and mother got upset with him. "all this mess and you clean out a drawer? you expect me to be happy about that?"

no wonder my relationships go awry and I treat people like they should give me more instead of appreciating what I have. the model for my interaction with love has been passive-aggressiveness, anger, and dissatisfaction. arguing instead of discussion, mockery, and no such thing as compromise. I am slowly unlearning these habits. they have cost me too many good people.
why are those good people attracted to me in the first place? I am a fixer and a fixer-upper. yet convinced of my own perfection. what me, do something wrong? hardly.
hey.
I fuck up a lot.
guess what? so does everyone. I think we all deserve a couple chances to get it right.

01:19 p.m.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

I have a secret to tell you. lean in, let me whisper. I have a secret, and it's about the way I'm getting over things. mesa taught me pressure points and mantras. mantras to me, about how I'm ok despite shit happening to me. I was hypnotized and guided through some pain. there was reiki and energy and, let's be honest, some hokey shit that worked on me. these are things I would have scoffed at five years ago, while secretly being intrigued.
I have been visualizing the energy within people since I was 13. maybe younger. I have used it to soothe people without them knowing.
I'm a closet spiritualist.
dan asked me about religion and I couldn't discuss it. what do I say? I am uncomfortable not with my beliefs, but with how people view them. mesa's very open with her's and sometimes she sounds a little crazy. I don't want to sound crazy. Ian said I sounded elitist? new-agey? I can't remember, but it was not complimentary.
I believe that everyone is connected by common threads that pull on us whenever anyone moves. this is how trends grow simultaneously in different places. this is how they grew before there was media, or television, or newspaper, or the written word. now I'm the one that sounds crazy.
don't question, just do.
I feel better, these past few days. I feel more at peace with myself. how did this happen? positive energy. suggestion during a suggestible state. I am opened up. I am between places, and the water flows through unobstructed.

it's a variety of things, baby. it's a whole mess of notions. you wanted to walk with me but wouldn't put your shoes on and when you got holes stabbed in your feet, you said it was someone else's fault. I watched the blood flow and felt somehow responsible. if only -- what if --
you and I both know it doesn't matter. even if you'd had the shoes on, I bet those thorns would have bit you. I bet that glass would have snaked its way through your soles and just killed. you have your wounds and I am wounded, and where does that leave us other than alone?
hey, I found a leaf I left in a notebook. did you pick it or did I? I made into something that pains me to see. do you get it or should I? I daydream about mix-tapes and letters I would send you, if only I could figure out what good it would do. None is the sum every time. the number is negative more often than not.
we are both the victims in this stupid game. we both lost. I bet you have a good time twisting it around so I look like the criminal. I bet you have a good time not talking to me. I love fucking people that aren't you. I have the song "you outta know" stuck in my head. but you know, when I heard it today by chance part of me wanted to send it to you. but the bit of me that won was the part that said, "why hold onto anger? why hurt him? you'll only make things worse." those negative numbers always bothered me. how can anything be less than zero? how can something be less than nothing at all?
it's not a deficit, it's a debt. it's the collection over years, not just spending more than you have. you owe me a debt. someday I will come to collect. what you took from me is far greater than what you lost by leaving me. one day you will see why this matters.
I fucked someone tonight. I bit him. I always loved biting, but you didn't like it that much. and you know, I compare every penis I see to your's. I compare everyone to you. it's ok though, because I was always comparing you to someone else too. I'll break this habit one day and find myself able to be with a person who is just who they are and not the image of what I want them to be. I think that is how I could reach contentment. I can't wait to meet the person I don't want to change. I can't wait to love myself.
you know what I mean?

12:12 a.m.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

I miss you.
oh god I miss you.

it's the small things that remind me, the tiny stupid shit I remember that makes me want you. I mean, yeah, of course there are the big things but somehow those are easier to pick out and toss aside. those are dealt with first. it's unlearning all these others that makes daily life hurt. it's the tiny prickly memories that cause my heart to thud and then
and then...
well, I have to write or explode.

06:13 p.m.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

feels like I'm drunk; like my brain is disconnected from my body. but I've been familiar with this feeling since before I ever even had my first drink. I have done sleep deprivation before.
sometimes the pieces I lost all rattle together and I think, "ah HA! this time I will find them!" it is the clink of the keys at the bottom of the bag. you know the sound, you know if you keep digging then you'll find them. well, I've reached the bottom three times now and I'm still searching. but I don't come up empty handed; I find all kinds of things I forgot I had.
like how much I miss my ex-husband. there are still things I say and do that started with him. he was four years, four years ago. the time we were together is now equal to the time we've been apart. isn't that supposed to mean something?
it means I have never forgiven myself for leaving him and I didn't realize it until just now. I have never gotten over him. the pain is dull now, but the ache remains. I gave him everything he has, and because I left him my life improved exponentially. but I still wonder, "what if?" just like I wondered, "what if I'd never dropped out of college?" and, "what if my suicide attempt had succeeded ten years ago?"
oh no.
ten years.
let me start this over again.

28 will be an age for many things, I think. this year I've been learning self-control, restraint, and how to listen to myself. listen to my gut.
burnt my effigy just to make a point. it started out as a way to direct my anger, sense of betrayal, and pain. it turned into something else. it's gone now and with it went something else that I can't name. a future, maybe. a past.
I told Jess, "be the person you want to meet." is that what the effigy was, too? am I being the person I want to meet? I am so angry, scuffy. can you hear me? I am so angry.
and sad.
I keep turning down people like there's gonna be a line forever. I am so wary. I am so tired.

05:37 p.m.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

this is you before things fell apart.
shirt off, snarling. your hair is a mess but it's perfect. you have a double chin. you haven't shaved in three days. your ribs are showing and I love it. your scar is a strange reddish-pink against your chest, and your hands are cracked and the lines creased with oil. you are beautiful.
this is you before your brother died. you have a crooked smile and when you laugh I love to watch your lips. you know I do, too, and you carefully pronounce every word. you have the most wonderful hands I have ever seen. they're large, and worn, and tender. your fingers are slender and they move like birds through the air as you talk. you know I like to watch them too so you make certain to gesticulate. I love to watch you draw shapes with your descriptions. I love to watch you move.
we made each other laugh so much. remember when we dressed up like secret agents; each of us in disguise? we traded bags. you were so nonchalant and I was jealous of your ability to act and keep a straight face. you told the waitress we were siblings. I wore my wig for as long as I could. later, you came home with me. we couldn't stay away.
I love you. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. people tell me that death changes people. this is you after your brother died. we stopped going places. you played gta on his laptop. I played kol. you didn't really talk to me. we fought a lot. I forgot what your smile looked like. I missed you being beside me. you started pulling away. I heard from you less. I missed your laugh. everything hurt. everything was alienating. I got depressed and you couldn't help me. you were depressed and I didn't know what to do. we fell apart and you turned to someone else. I was abandoned before you even left me. I was betrayed before you even told me.
this is me, after you left me. I took a journey and discovered who you used to be. I found out how it felt to be hurt and hurt badly. I became the person you used to need, back when I wasn't ready for anything you had to give. I was a year late. you were no longer waiting. this is me, crumbling.
people say that grief changes a person. they become someone else entirely and it can take months or years before they recover, if they ever do. mesa said, "you two shared a real connection. I could see that. when he gets tired of his shiny toy you may find that he comes back to you. but you might not be there any more." the barbed hook, caught in my chest. tug-tug-tugging when you pull. you don't realize what you're doing. and for me, there is nothing I can do.
I miss you all the time.
I love you and the path can lead in two directions. maybe you will come back to me in a year, when you've figured out your mistake. or maybe you will stay apart from me and never know what you have done.
but me, all I can do is try to heal this wound. all I can do is try to cut the barb away and let time do its thing. you re-evaluted your life and I didn't fit in. next time, maybe I will.

07:51 p.m.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

when I woke up this morning I couldn't remember if he was dead or jut not talking to me.

06:21 a.m.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

whisper, "I am alone."
how can it be both true and not true? I don't know. but it is.
I am alone.

07:33 p.m.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

let it go. the string's been wound, the ball is tight. let it unravel away. don't follow. don't watch. just let it roll its own way.
pick your battles. check your motives at the door. watch where your hands lead you. don't listen to anything that doesn't feel right. but know what you're feeling. know what is genuine. "if I think I should, then I probably should" is the thing I've been saying to myself the most lately.
some things just feel wrong and those are the things I don't do. him doing this to me feels wrong and there is nothing I can do about it except wait for the feeling to pass. every week I say to jeanne, "what can I do to make the pain go away?" and every week she says, "wait."
so much death of so many things. a brother, a job, a relationship, a life, a way of being. I miss what I was going to have. there's nothing I can do about it but wait. wait and keep myself single. deal with all these feelings. cry when I talk and don't hold back.
and let it go. pick my battles. this hurts. everything hurts. he changed my life by loving me and now has changed it even more by leaving.
but I would still take him back if he asked. I'll know I'm over him when that feeling goes away.
28, pass me swiftly by and bring with you a sense of security and peace within myself. I am ready to be me. I am ready to live for me and only me. I can be complete within myself. it's just so hard to imagine right now.
I am broken and nothing but time can fix me.

10:02 a.m.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

feel sick. heart sick. rotten part of my chest waiting to be cut away before it infects the rest of me. lean close, I have a secret to share: it already has.
aching chest, aching wrist, aching head. miss you when I'm all alone in the dark. miss your body next to mine. miss your voice. miss a lot of things; I even miss things that weren't there. ghosts of who we could have been while we were together.
hey, I have another secret. from this pain a newness grows. I have been crying again lately. smudge my room about once a week, smudge myself. say goodbye over and over. you don't know what this feels like. the horrible thing is that you could empathize but you choose not to.
once you loved me. once you were someone else. you know, the person I'll become is the person you could have used a year ago. the person you are now is someone I could have related to then. I hurt alone. I do not trust men. I do not think I ever fully will.
robbie. you helped fulfill that.
you said, "I didn't break up with you to have a serious relationship with Kristen." In your double speak that means, "I broke up with you to have a relationship with Kristen." you didn't intend for it to be serious at that point, but you did break up with me to have a relationship with her. I know how your brain works. I hid that from myself for a long time, but now I can see it more clearly. you use your words to make lies that are technically truths. guess what: if they're misleading, they're lies.
I've been lied to before, and it broke me then as well. never as badly as this though. never so it broke my sense of reality too.
I said to jeanne, "I wish I could feel empowered by being single instead of just sad and lonely." I cried a lot today at my appointment. oh, I sob over you. So what if it's been nearly four months. I still cry like the wound is new. I still cry like the blood is still wet on your hands. in my mind, it is. in my heart, it is.
you could understand but you choose not to.
oh, where do I go now with these dreams? they were written for two+, not for a solo.
all I can do is wait it out. I am so powerless. just wait. I can find patience. oh god, it hurts. it hurts. scoop it out, throw it away, the pain grows back and I hate my imagination and life it paints for you with her instead of me.

01:58 a.m.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

I dreamt I was stubborn; as stubborn as you. faced with intolerable words, I ignored them and insisted I was right. I woke up unhappy. discontent. everyone is so blind, including me. we are all just blind to different things.
still can't believe all this has happened. I still mostly can't accept it. I have my moments of clarity, when I can forget reality, when everything painful briefly flees. it always comes back, though. the hurt returns and with it betrayal. the dreams and tears and fitful sleeping. the melted motivation, the loneliness. I'd kill who's to blame if they weren't already dead. as it is, I slay the co-conspirator with my words. It doesn't always help.
it never helps.
paint her true self. paint you. took your letter and your picture and I paper mached it over my heart. ten days it all will burn. I've never had my life destroyed like this before. I wish I'd never met you. I think I really believe that. I'd rather have never known you at all than have to deal with all that you have brought me. you have hurt me more than anyone else ever has. this was a cultivated love with a growing future and you ripped it from the roots and left it to slowly die. she helped. your brother started it all.
lies lies lies I hope someday you come around and see your own truth. I hope you come around and tell me. maybe one day you'll beg, but mostly I think you'll always lie because you've discovered how easy it is to build upon such things. if you stop lying maybe you'll just fall apart. what a long road to walk that would be. how difficult. and now, and then, all that matters is ease.
I can never be easy.
I have never, and never will, take that path. I wouldn't even know where to start.

02:23 p.m.

Monday, March 16, 2009

"I would forget you if I only could think about anything else"
the longer I don't hear from you, the more I miss you. thought it was supposed to be the other way around. I replay the past year and a half in my head, making marks at warning signs and opportunities for improvement. it's spring now; why couldn't you have just waited a couple more months? what happened to your faith?
I have been lost since you left me. I keep wandering around like I know where I'm going, but I only find more road. you are just beyond every bend but I can't get there. I hear your voice, I see a glimpse but you're never where I think you are. You're never where you left me.
get out of my head. I go from despondence to hatred. I go from desperation to strength. some days are worse than others. I run the gamut daily. even I can't predict where I'll be.
I miss feeling at peace with things. I miss you being single; those three weeks before you furthered your betrayal. I could believe you and trust you if you were still single. but you don't understand. you don't understand anything about me anymore. you always knew more than you let on. you're so fucking smart -- why don't you let yourself live it?
can't sleep, don't eat, late every day. this is my life since you left. smoking pot, drinking beer, shirking responsibility. I miss you. I miss me, too.

08:36 p.m.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

dear A and T,

How your sons have hurt me: one by dying; the other by causing me to wish I was dead. they never answer my questions. I get fragments of dreams, or utter silence. everything gets misdirected. I can't decode the meaning behind the images and sentences. I can never get to the root of it all. I never get an actual, honest, open response.

and that will be his brother, too.

a and t, I hurt. I hurt every day because of your sons. I can't comprehend death. I used to feel cold towards it but now when anyone talks about someone dying, I have to hold back tears. I never understood what that felt like before. I am so angry. I am so scared. I have no one to go through this with me. he left me, and I still honestly don't know why.

my dear a and t, I am angry at you as well. you said you loved me, but when robbie left me, you did too. your entire family abandoned me. you called for a little while, but then you were gone. I was there for your son in a way no one else could be. I was there for you, too. and I didn't get any comfort from any one. I hurt all the time and I'm angry all the time and I'm so confused and I don't know what to do with it. I miss you so much. I miss having a family. you were my family. now I have no family, no love, no future. just me drifting, with this armful of emotion that has no place to go.

I don't know who I am anymore. I am a shell and I don't know what's growing inside. I don't know you, or him either. sometimes it feels like I have nothing. sometimes it feels like my entire life was stolen away. I am still in shock.

no, I don't think so.

04:04 p.m.

Monday, March 9, 2009

chasing the wind. running without looking, tripping, and the thing I'm following never even notices. have you been to that place where everything is familiar but you still can't find your way? I am stuck there permanently. I once said, "I've gone the wrong way so many times that every thing looks right." well, this is a little like that. I used to know where I was going. feels like I was aiming for the pinata and everyone left when I was blindfolded. I don't know the rules anymore. I don't even know where I am.
disoriented. alone. a game I can't play by myself, but I'm left that way.
I think about the hot springs in oregon, naked with him and his cousin's family. I remember the smell and the sensation of peace. I will never have that again. I wouldn't even know where to start. everyone was beautiful. every thing was ok.

why has this happened? three months later and I'm still sobbing the same questions. three months later and these memories are choking me. three months doesn't sound that long, but it is for me. I still can't feel anything for any one but him.
help me.
why didn't I get a second chance?

10:39 p.m.

Monday, March 9, 2009

drinkin and smokin. stayin up too late. wearing make up and dresses. reinventing myself into the person I never wanted to be. where'd that persona go from two months ago, the one with the zen and the understanding? now it's all anger and sadness. it's still empty and I am hollow. I still miss you all the time.
this is self-destruction without the caring. there's enough of me left to keep me from the edge, but how long can I keep it up? it's the constant song of not-quite-there. teetering on the blade without pushing too hard. flickin out the knife just to prove I can. do you remember what you used to say to me? do you remember anything we did?
you don't need me because I'm replaced. it's more than that though. I'm buried without ritual, a sock puppet in a cardboard box, forgotten and decayed.
"what if it's a test?"
"what if it's a test?"
"what if it's a test?"
just tell me it isn't so I can hate you and never look back. tell me that you don't love me now and never will again. hit me with concrete and make me know that this will never go anywhere again, and I never mattered to you.
your silence is a shroud that is smothering me. I don't know what I control and what you just wave around with your hand. I don't know what control is anymore. I don't know who I am or who you are, I just know who we were going to be. that's the worst death; what could have been.
I miss the green eyes. I miss the smile and laugh. I miss the spontaneity and how I once was held. I miss being certain of something. of you.
I don't want to love any more. I am on the long road and the horizon is far out of sight.
just left with a photograph I can't quite throw away.

01:07 p.m.

Monday, March 9, 2009

dreams last night. not of him, but of her.
there was anger on my part, there were a lot of things. but in the dream she was just friends with him, not his girlfriend. and in the dream everything was easier to handle and say. in the dream we could communicate and she didn't interrupt with, "huh?" and we could talk.
in the dream it was so much easier. now I'm awake and I feel lonely and sad. reconciliation is great, but it's better when it actually happens. I can't make the first move any more. I have worn that path away.
waiting for a letter never written, a call that never comes. dreams that hurt or heal, but really it's the same. it's never real. I don't matter the way I used to. I am just another fragment to put away. I'm something else to ignore or tuck aside until "the time is right."
I hate where time has taken us.

12:55 p.m.

Monday, March 9, 2009

panting and intense. push the sweaty hair from his skin, suck the salt from his shoulder. purple marked reminder of this coping mechanism. it's not 100%, but it's not supposed to be.
smudged eyeliner increases the effect. pulls my arms above his head, places my hands behind his dreadlocks. our chests rise and fall against each other, ragged, uneven. all my knowledge is funneled into where our bodies meet. all sensation focuses on his mouth, then his hands, and where they are going.
there are moans and I think, "is my roommate home?" doesn't matter. somehow I am naked.
he doesn't take things slow or try to seduce me. we are all business, all hormones. "do you have a sex drive or do you just feed off of mine?" he calls me insatiable. so does everyone else.
alone. no love. just sex, didn't you know? fuck me and leave, leave me alone to write about watching you in the mirror. it's carnal and animal. there is no grace to his orgasm.
this is fulfilling a function that keeps me from making a fool of myself. a lack of sex leads to me making bad decisions. maybe this is a bad decision, but I've made worse.
the reason I'm having sex with him was caused by one of them.

12:47 a.m.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

thanks ...
"Leave The City"
Magnolia Electric Co.

Broke my heart to leave the city
I mean it broke what wasn’t broken in there already
Thought of all my great reasons for leaving
Now I can’t think of any
It’s true it was a hard time that I’ve come through
It’s made me thankful for the blues
Half my life spent on a highway
Half my life I didn’t choose
And I have seen the North Star
Shining in the freight yard
And I knew it was a hard time that it’d come through
It’s made him thankful for the blues
It broke my heart to know you waited
I had so many things to do
It’s true as far as a lot of stuff
You could have had a little better luck
You just called and just hung it up
One of us has had enough
It’s true as far as a lot of stuff
You could have had a little better luck
You just called and just hung it up
Baby both of us have had enough

07:21 p.m.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

I am suffering.

Smudged my room to release your spirit. still haunts me though. guess it always will.
do you know who you are at night, alone in the dark? do you cry and miss your brother? do you think about me? my pain is catching up to me. the sense of betrayal your name brings is wearing me down. I am a raw nerve exposed.
there are always things I want to tell you and talk to you about. I can't though. the person that cared died with your brother. it's been three months and today was the first time I could talk about him. today was the first time I sat down and said to jeanne, "I can't comprehend death."
I said to q, "death wasn't real to me before. both my mom's parents died when I was in high school, people I knew died when I was 17 and 19 and I just went on. but AJ died and it has really affected me. it made death real. I guess because I love robbie so much." q said, "no guess. that is the reason." I don't know what to do with this. it's been three months and I still cry about you at least once a week.
jeanne talked about my loneliness and how she worries I'm going to rely on sex to cover up the pain. she doesn't know it's you I'm thinking about. all the time. every day. I need you so badly and instead I have to keep you away. I say, "some weeks are really bad. some weeks are fine. this week has been a bad one."
I am at a standstill.
and you, where are you? I want to ride my bike to your house and weep onto your chest. I want to kiss your scar again like you used to let me do. oh god, I miss your hands. the way your tongue felt flat at the end. your smile, your beautiful mischievous smile. I miss the way you'd laugh at your jokes. I miss your brain, oh how I miss the way you could think things through. mechanical, construction, whatever. not quite me, but sometimes you were close. I just wished you'd told me more. you weren't really open with me. you closed up. you stopped letting me in.

I don't want to be angry any more.

12:23 a.m.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

I grab his waist and pull him and he says of my comment, "You aren't subtle at all are you?" I am embarrassed and tipsy and the beat is loud and I just want him to kiss me. he doesn't. Two months we've been hanging out and intellectually I think we would be so right for each other. the emotion is there because I think it should be. but lately I don't feel anything for anyone. it's fine with me. it's how I want it to be.
I walk him to his door, my arms around his cold body. he says goodnight and I smile. there is tension, and it's strange because I haven't felt it like that before. not with him. not in a "not gonna happen" sort of way. I get what I want. I reach out and take it. and if it doesn't come willingly, then I am the one to toss it back. if I can't have it then I didn't want it in the first place.
sometimes I feel beaten. sometimes I feel pretty. I am not encouraged by the company I keep, when it comes to romantic inclination. I try to walk the line between desire and desperation. it feels like I'm faking. I think I'm just walking the walk without knowing where I'm going. I don't even know where I want to be. hell, I don't even know what my options are.
let me say something about the guy I've been fucking. he is so beautiful. I feel like I should be conflicted, but I'm not. things are just the way they are. I am not answerable to anyone. there is no one with a chain around my heart. there isn't anyone that can do anything to break me right now. I still feel the tug from the partner that isn't anymore, I still know he's there and it still hurts me, but what else can he do to me but be an asshole? the only thing he could do is go further on the path that he's stumbling down. I know it's going to keep hurting. I just want it to be over.
beautiful boy, pretty lips. helps me be myself again. helps me talk it out. he is who he is and has nothing to prove. no drama. no dishonesty. no hiding.
it's nice for now, until the physical dies off and we are left with just our friendship. is that like burning off cooking wine? am I just waiting for the heat? what will the summer bring?
oh, I don't know. when it comes to the personal aspect of my life, I just can't think that far ahead. it only hurts because of what it could have been and what it will not be now.
there are others.
there are better.
and in the end, there is always me.

02:21 p.m.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

he reads like poetry. every movement a line, every small thing adding up to an image. purposeful pauses are his intense eyes. each break is his fingers, hurting or caressing. they add tempo, metre, quickening his heartbeat. I am along for the ride. I am the ride.
when he smiles, it is a punctuation. his heavy breathing is definition, the moans are a crescendo. there's feeling. there's nothing. there's weightlessness. passion. he is the flow of water, the music of the words. unconscious beauty and his walk is the ragged --

I wonder how he does it. how can he look like those things I find attractive in media but could never look at seriously? how can he have those traits I was embarrassed to want but find painfully irresistible? I think of his hair and his eyes, his calm gesticulation and I feel myself grow. I am warmth and fire and I need need need so badly. anything. a touch. a slap. any attention. I just need.
my body wants all the time. it thinks of him. I have become one constantly pinging nerve and my brain just can't keep up. he can be read the same forward as backwards. he is a palindrome. he is the letter H. he is a safe desire.
and I can write about him oh so freely.

08:22 p.m.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

he doesn't know that I run to the second floor after I see him out, just so I can watch him walk away. kissing him tonight was so sweet, so wonderful. kissing him is so good. and I think we feel the same way. I think things are on an even keel.
but I know it won't go anywhere. I know it won't because he eats meat and smokes and I am vegan and hate cigarettes. and I don't like habitual pot smoking. there are differences that will not mend; that I will not try to heal. he is who he is just as I am who I am. right now things are fine but they just can't get more serious.
we held hands all night. it was his idea. he sang to me and it was beautiful, beautiful. he grabbed my ass as I grabbed his hips and we kissed in the street as we walked.
and I realized today that the most recent ex is nowhere near who he used to be. it helps me to move on when I realize that. he is stuck, throwing mud, his wheels are just spinning. he's going nowhere but keeps pressing the gas. he's going nowhere and I am skipping, skipping by on the sidewalk. he struggles and when I try to help he just waves me aside. he is alone. utterly alone. and that is how he has made himself.
but I can
have fun and feel something for someone that isn't going anywhere with me. will that still be true in a month? it feels good right now. it feels good to connect with someone and feel like someone's actually listening to me. it feels good to hold hands and kiss and talk. it feels good right now because it's been three months that I've been single. three months, robbie, not three weeks. and you know what? it's still too soon.
I can't erase the bitterness. you have hurt me more than you had a right to. I hope you suffer someday, but not at my hands. I know you will suffer and you will think of me and you will know that you deserve it.
but tonight, tonight, I had a good night. good kisses, good touching, good conversation. I had a good night. and I raced to the second floor to watch him walk down the street. I raced to the second floor to give my own secret goodbye.

11:36 p.m.