Monthly Archives: May 2013
There is no better misery than that felt in love.
The desire to be hated becomes almost as strong as the desire to be loved.
Hate me. Love me. Feel something. Anything. But please, don’t be indifferent. I need to feel something from you. I don’t care what.
Our unspoken words fill the rooms. Pushing in around us. I can’t breathe. Choking on my own thoughts.
You left the words behind. Walked away as I drowned in an ocean of broken words. You looked back unseeing; moved forward unfeeling.
There remain things to be said that will forever stay safely tucked away in the folds of our insecurities. Hidden by lies we tell ourselves.
Your name is still etched upon my heart, beating out its own tattoo along with my own heartbeat. Everywhere I go, there you are. I can feel you. You bring a smile to my soul with every warm memory – the ocean of pain washed away into the dark chasm of my past. Gone but never forgotten.
My broken heart still looks for you in everyone. Finding you everywhere. Comforted by the reminder of the pain I felt. The hurt that covered me like a warm familiar blanket.
I go in deep and suddenly there you are again. Still attached to my heart, finding everything I hated about you in every new love. But my heart must let you go, for my brain has finally carried the message to my heart, “you deserve better” it whispers.
And slowly the scars in my depths will fade.
An excerpt from one of my novels:
There was a party that night. There was a party almost every night, but this one was different. Everybody we knew was at this party, gathered together in an intimately large crowd of faces and names that few cared to remember but all knew. We passed by each other throughout the night – a light brush of the hand here, an exchanged glance there, a shiver of longing stretching across the space – never stopping to say hello. Words fell out of people’s mouths falling onto the ground in a cacophonous thunder – twenty six letters collecting on the floor in a strange new menagerie of words that none of us understood.
As the raucous party grew to an unbearable din it ended suddenly, a collective nod to the silently agreed upon expulsion of a raucous affair that never had a purpose but always came to fruition at the end of what some face or another would proclaim was “one hell of a day.” The after effects of liquor leaving piles of bodies haphazardly strewn around the apartment – the unexplainable fallout of a night that would be remembered only upon waking eyes blinking into focus a room that was not theirs; a partner they had no recollection of acquainting themselves with; a memory they will forever be searching for.
We united in the hall, our unspoken words screaming out, echoing through the apartment. Falling onto the bed we tore at each others clothes, desperate for a feeling we both knew we would not find. His eyes searched my face as hungrily as mine searched his finding solace in our shared emptiness. We were all each other had. All each other wanted. Our passion grew in immensity as the sun pounded its unforgiving rays through our curtains, spotlighting our deception.
The sound of my heartbeat threatened to burst my eardrums as we stared at each other in a state of mental and physical exhaustion. I saw his mouth open as three words spilled out and fell upon the space in the bed between us, forming a pool of empty desire. My mind screamed, “what is love?” My lips parted, but the words got stuck in my throat. What came out startled both of us. “I love you, too.” An unnoticed inflection at the end trailing off into the dark chasm of misunderstanding that would live between us forever. There is no question in love.
He moved his calloused hand over the curves of my body, laced his fingers through mine, and pulled me close. Our legs intertwined, our souls met in the middle. Nothing between us but naked lies etched upon our scared hearts. A beautiful duality of lies and truths created the world around us. Created our lives. Created our love.
Having writers block is about as much fun as stubbing your toe repeatedly. Lately, each attempt at putting pen to paper (both figuratively and literally) has resulted in both a lack of imagination as well as a lack of vocabulary. My entire curse word patois came into full force and I felt as though I could have put a few sailors to shame yet not one iota of what I wrote was usable which made for a confused, frustrated, and rather bitchy me. It is quite similar to PMS…just, you know, without the cramps and cravings. And finally today during my eleven hour work day my thoughts ran rampant and suddenly the ability to write came back to me in full force. But that’s how it happens, isn’t it? When you want to do it, you can’t. When you are busy doing something else and are completely consumed in your work, BAM!, inspiration hits and has a good laugh at it’s perfectly inconvenient timing. So, as well as adding to one of my scripts I decided it was time to try writing another blog and see how it will work out. Fingers crossed that I can finish this and not leave in in draft-land where so many other reside.
I could spout out several reasons for why I have not been blogging lately but the long and short of it is that I haven’t been okay. There was a buildup of sadness and near depression for several weeks leading up to my second psychotic episode ever. This one happened to be a few days after the anniversary of my first one last year that landed me in the E.R. with a terrifyingly insufficient recollection of what exactly had happened. Luckily this episode wasn’t as severe but the next morning my memories felt like a movie I had watched. They weren’t my own. It was like I was in another person’s head watching their memories and remembering their thoughts and feelings. That is the best way I can describe it other than scary as fuck.
There has been such a buildup of negativity that it has left me exhausted. I sleep like I’m depressed, I have to force myself to eat because I have no energy to do it, I have no appetite, and get a little nauseous every time I smell food cooking. I rarely want to go out and do anything anymore because just the idea of doing something makes me tired. I think about telling someone that I want to talk but I don’t even know what I would say so I just don’t. I pretend like everything is okay; I’m doing just fine thankyouverymuch! I take it when someone yells at me for being sad or in a mood when they think it is because of them since I don’t even have the energy or words to explain to them what may be going on. I can’t even really place the emotion. I’m not sad or depressed or upset or angry or indifferent or unhappy…I’m just slightly empty. Good things happen to me and it doesn’t even occur to me to share the good news with anybody. I keep most of it to myself and the person that I do tell doesn’t really care because….well, because. So here I am. Empty, and unsure why. I can come up with a few reasons as to why I may feel this way but it will all be mostly conjecture. I mean, can you always explain why you feel a certain way when there is so much traffic in your brain that you no longer know which way is left?
The strangest part about all of this is something that I realized today. Through all of this I have kept my hope and faith. I still love life. I have a childlike wonder about everything and I love making new memories every day. Because that’s all we have, really. You can’t live in the past, you have to leave that behind you because if you don’t you will miss out on what is happening in the present. And you can’t live in the future because you never really know what will happen and if you focus on what you may or may not have you could miss out on what is currently happening. I have faith in people and I still I have hope that everything will end up okay. I wish I could hand this hope and faith over to my friends who are going through difficult times and have neither, but I can’t. Instead I will continue to hold on to it for them until they are ready to accept it again. I don’t think there is any reason not to have faith or hope because they make everything better. The only reason you shouldn’t have them is if you like being miserable. And I would know this because being miserable used to be my thing but for the first time in my life I am not letting the misery get to me. I will not let it take over. I refuse. I accept that I will have bad times in my life, that I may not always be the overly peppy girl that I have become, but I will never let depression take over my life again.
So, while I am really, very not okay, I do still have certain days that are fantastic….
A perfect example of this would be Saturday – even though the week had sucked so much I cried at work three days in a row due to a few choice words from a friend who apparently knows me so well that they know exactly what to say that will hurt me the most (let’s ignore the fact that I shouldn’t let words effect me, okay?) – I woke up hyper, happy, and high on life. Maybe it was because I had cried myself to sleep at eight the night before and spent 12 restless hours in bed or maybe it was because I realized that I was not at fault for what I had been blamed for, but for some reason everything seemed like it was going to be okay. And it was, for the most part. I attended a wedding with Mr. Perfect before we headed to the Rangers vs. Red Sox game and everything was fine until the vows were exchanged. The word “forever” was thrown around and my stomach lurched. I’m sure I have said it before but I will say it again: I don’t think I could ever get married, and it isn’t because I don’t think I could be with someone forever, it’s because I don’t trust that anybody would keep their word and stick around forever. People always leave. They just do. But I deserve better than that. I don’t ever want to feel the same kind of pain and betrayal as I have felt from every person I have been in a relationship with. If you are special enough for me to want to give my everything to, then I deserve the same from you. Loving a person is the easy part, it’s caring enough to stay that is difficult, apparently. So, until I find someone who realizes that I’m worth sticking around for, I will continue to hold back my trust.
*cough cough* Back to Saturday…
After the 5:30 vows were exchanged and congratulations were attempted to be given Mr. Perfect and I beelined to the parking lot to change in the car before heading to our much anticipated 7:05 baseball game. I had so much going on in my head at this point that I was afraid I had lost my hyper-ness and, for most of the drive, I had. But, true to myself, it appeared out of nowhere once again and as we were walking into the park Mr. Perfect informed me that I was special. Not the hey-you-are-an-amazing-person-and-I’m-so-glad-to-have-you-in-my-life! kind of special, but the damn-they-had-a-designated-short-bus-for-you-didn’t-they? kind of special. Yeah…because apparently people don’t skip around, break into song and dance, or name their bobby pins. This is something “special” people do. I’m special like V.I.P. damnit! And my bobby pins agree. Mostly Rosencrantz but that’s only because he thinks quite highly of himself and claims that he wouldn’t fraternize with anybody beneath him. But, I mean, he’s a bobby pin…I probably shouldn’t consider his opinion.
Baseball, beer, ginormous nachos with your best friend when you are super hyper makes for a pretty good Saturday night, even if everything else in your world seems to be crumbling down around you. After years of always being in a dark place I was pretty proud of myself for not letting the darkness consume me when it was trying so hard to do just that.
This blog seriously meandered…if you made it all the way through I thank you for sticking with me. I’m not even sure if it all makes sense but I just had to write something.