what I'd say to you...

If I could form the words:
I'd say them.

If I could make the sounds
come up from my throat
choking me,
holding me,
here.

I don't have the guts
to spill--
maybe, maybe,
just maybe...
this coil will unravel,
and I'll have
something to hang on to--
choking me,
holding me,
here.

Weird

Tonight I watched a movie where I saw myself. I was 11 years old again, angry, confused, scared. I can’t say that I miss my father. Because a part of me doesn’t. But I start to wonder if I actually do. I see a pattern forming. I’m helpless to stop it. I wanted to feel alone. Alone without anyone wanting, without anyone expecting anything from me. Without me expecting things from others. I didn’t build this wall, it always seems as though it’s built for me. Every couple of years it seems as though I can’t do anything right. I make impulsive decisions--say impulsive things. I never get to explain myself. And it’s frustrating. Frustration that leads to anger. Anger that leads to a great sadness that scares me. A darkness that leads me to think of alien things like death. My death. Every day I hear about people with suicidal thoughts and think, they must be crazy. But I’ve thought of my suicide 1,000 times this week. And it’s always a way out--to escape this never ending torture of the pressure I feel from everything. I’m broken and all I can do is wait it out until I’m mended again.

Tonight I wanted to write. To really start digging at this nagging feeling. To bite my emotions and spit them onto this page. But I had no where to go. Everywhere I wanted to go was occupied by one of those bridges I’ve burned in the last week. I felt helpless to be alone. And now that I am alone, I’m starting to question if this is truly what I want. The thought of friends is overwhelming. All I feel is this pressure on my chest when I think about all the obligations, all the forced fake smiles, all the fake laughter, pretending to be jolly and happy and it’s too much. I think about leaving and there’s some joy in that. The thought of starting out new, fresh--paving a beginning instead of trying to fight the flames from this torch I keep burning bridges with. I never wanted to burn these bridges. In truth, I wasn’t tending the flames--I just let them creep up on me and now that they’re in a full blaze, I can’t stop them. The old me would fight. The new me knows it’s a losing battle. You just let the fire burn until it smolders, and in the ashes you’ll find some kind of rebirth. Like a phoenix rising.

Where was I when this all unraveled? I keep asking myself that… and I honestly don’t know. People have just assumed. And I’ve assumed. And it’s all become this huge utter mess. How do you undo something that was never done? And how do you explain something that never existed if people believe it truly did? It’s like proving the existence or nonexistence of a deity… you can’t if someone believes in it.

I wish I could explain myself. I wish I could put into words something that would make people get it.

All I want is someone who doesn’t just assume--someone who just knows without asking. Someone who gets when I need to explain, someone who won’t let me shut down, give up. Because that’s what I’m doing. I’m giving up. These bridges can smolder without me. I never stood a chance against fate.

I found this document on my computer named "Ramblings" created April 8, 2010. After reading it, I didn't know who wrote it--was that me? Did I really create these words, have these thoughts? I vaguely remember writing it, but my voice sounds alien. The feelings she's describing are mine, the thoughts she's having are mine also, but the way she is explaining and speaking; she's a stranger. I don't know her.

Who was she? Was she happy? She sounds... sad, but not broken. What movie did she see herself in; did she give up? Or give in? Did she burn with her bridges? Or allow fate it's dance? Did she reconnect with her father--did she forgive him? Or did she forget herself?

This was before I moved. Before I had to become a grown up. Before the world caed in on me and I couldn't breath. This was before the Tin Man. Before the Rabbit Hole. Before He-who-should-not-be-named. Before I 'lost' it. Before everything. This was 8 days after I turned 23. 23. The year I waited for my entire life because that was the year I dreamed that everything in my life would come together; it all fell apart. And here I am almost 2 years later, that person---that 23 year old girl burning bridges, angry with her father, confused--was me, IS ME. Just 2 years later, more heart broken. More confused. More sad. More full of anger than ever. More alone then she was when she wrote I never stood a chance against fate.

...naturally.

Its been 11 days since I've spoken to my most recent relationship failure... I was taking it well: in confident "I'm good at getting over this by now" strides.  No chocolate. No sappy love songs.  No angry outbursts. Real pro-like.

So excuse me if I'm suffering from a bit of insomnia; or having glum opinions about possible proposals; or annoyed during coupon clipping because of all the seasonal-driven coupons directed towards couples; or the crying during Hallmark/Publix commercials; or the fact I can't decide what to eat so I spend an hour aimlessly stalking around the grocery store talking to myself...

Real pro-like. 

"I'm alone; not lonely." Well, I'll get there again, eventually.

7-11 Lover

Stop in for a quickie:
Fill up your tank,
Quench your need
For something sticky sweet

And then leave.
Continue to wherever you were headed.

Until your thirst returns,
Or your tank runs low
And you need a convenient stop:

Pull in,
Park as close as you can,
My doors open automatically:
Just for you

Faster you get in,
Quicker you get out,
"Thank you! Come again."

Baby it's cold outside...

It's nights like these I wish I had someone to curl up with and snuggle.  The colder the weather, the lonelier it feels. Another reason why the winter season is hazardous for singles.

Down under.

The problem with dating is it always starts the same way... you meet an OK Guy who your friends talk you into going out with because they think he's great and you need to give him a chance: date one is magical.  He takes you out to dinner and pays, ending the night with a kiss.   Date two is the same gentleman behavior ending in heavy petting.  Date three: his personality finally starts to show and you realize your prince is really interested  in a steak dinner and exploding all over your stomach after a  hand job...

Albeit, we are physically compatible.  But his rigidity and structured type A personality stifles my passionate, spontaneous side; I'm water where he's a rock. And when I try to flow, he blocks my current.  I may be better off washing him off to sea with the other stones and sharks...

New Years Tradition

Starting my new year's tradition of attempting to journal; nursing a hangover: my stomach is on fire... last night, got hammered at Casselberry Lanes on two long islands; by the time the ferry dropped me off, I was stuck on that island searching for a bed with 1 1/2 more games to bowl.  Jessica,  Becky, and Brandon were there to witness my record game of 38 pins in 10 frames.
Today: 3rd 'date' plans: I'm excited, I like him A LOT, but I keep preparing myself; worst case scenario: he's a serial killer followed by second worst case: he turns ou like every other guy: non-emotional-only-looking-for-a-once-a-week-warm-hole-to-stick-it-in-lets-just-keep-this-non-defined fwb: all in all, going in with positive thinking.