Spent the day continuing to aspire to be Idgie Threadgoode.
Photos of the city – Create to cure the depression.
Reflections
Reflecting on old notebooks
a sense of pride
hope
and clarity
Remember the dark nights
they still continue
but without the substance
remember the addiction
Pour it out
split it up
straighten it out
take turns
So quick to indulge
we could feel it in our brains
before we even took it in
Anxious
We like the feeling
and know it well
Now theres a bit more time
in the world
when you work a bit faster
Pause
Remember to breathe
Take a moment before the
next one
next one..
next one..
next one..
wheres the next one?
I’ll get lost in those eyes
and this cocktail if I’m not careful
Painfully beautiful melodies
memories stain my fingertips
What have we become?
Are we really so bad?
….Aren’t we all pretty fucked up anyway?
When will I stop this nonsense.
Circa 2008
Old Notebooks
Old Notebooks – Circa 2005/2006
That One Time I Tried To Convince You To Stay..
Love
is always scary
it never wont be
pulling the most
vulnerable and delicate piece
out of the center of your body
turning to a stranger
and saying,
“here, hold this”
is to allow yourself
to love
but darling,
what a beautiful thing,
the most beautiful exchange
Over Exposed
My heart feels over exposed
over sensitive to the elements
loved raw
and left without skin
like my teeth did the time
I used whitening strips
every night
for two weeks
and then accidentally
fell asleep with them in
the next day they were so sensitive
that even a breathe of air
was an uncomfortable
and painful sensation
you had me so convinced
that you were mine
that magic existed
and that everything had finally
fallen in line
Now I have to talk myself
out of bed every morning
talk myself
down the hall
and into the shower
talk myself through
the morning cigarette
and the coffee
talk myself through
the memories of you
when I smell you on my sheets
or find your hairs on my couch
and on my pillows
through the ride to work,
and through each sunset
because i’m afraid of night
now that
I have to talk myself to sleep
Don’t tell your lover that
you love them
if you don’t
someday it will lose all meaning
and how sad for love to hold no weight.
Hands
When I look at your hands
I grow weak,
I can’t look directly
at you at times
when we speak
or all of my strength
becomes fleeting
–your eyes like a tide
pulled me in and kept me under–
You’re blinding like the sun
and that smile —
that smile could bring
the whole world to its knees
stop it dead in its tracks
so distracted and humbled
it’d start spinning
the opposite direction
Please Send Chocolate
In one of my favorite books, “Those Who Ride The Night Winds”, by Nikki Giovanni, there is a line that reads,
“The sign on my car says : I break for gnomes…. the one in my heart reads : error in process- please send chocolate.”
It makes me laugh every time I read it, and reminds me to find humor in the heaviness of life. I’m not sure if its my age- but I am finding myself at a cross roads, questioning romantic notions, and, perhaps, somewhat naive views of life. “Will I forever feel so much? Do I seek the chaos- consciously or subconsciously for a means to create? Will I ever actually feel like a “grown up”? Are bleeding hearts for the young and the restless?”
I’ll be 30 in August.
Within the past year the steady vision I had so carefully curated for myself fell to pieces, and I find myself constantly contemplating love and life. I feel like nobody has any idea what is going on. We just make up these little realities, and walk around acting out these sort of plays. Everyone I know is broken. It’s hard to wake up, its hard to walk through the day. How much heartbreak can someone take? How many times can one person break? I just want to get to a place where I don’t have to talk myself through a day, and I don’t think I could even begin to count the amount of people I know that feel the same. All of us- just flailing, trying to find solid ground.
I just want to love, and be loved. I want someone to see me. And we can flail together- no, we’ll fly.
I was talking with a friend early today, about soulmates and love, and how it evolves, and shifts, and changes, with each person, with each heartbreak, with time, and age. I’ve always believed, or wanted to believe, that there is one person out there for me, waiting, and when we meet, the whole world will stop, and fall around us. I have always so fully believed in this Romeo and Juliet, Noah and Ally, Christian and Satine type love. Like — no matter what, our hearts where bound, and we would always find our way to each other, one way or another.
Through each heartache I find myself further and further away from this notion. I thought for years that the woman I was with, was that one for me. She was my best friend, my lover, my teacher. I approached our life like ‘ride or die, I am yours and you are mine’, until she decided she wasn’t.
And what are you to do?
You deal with the house, the car, the dog, you move on.
You can’t make someone love you.
So, I scraped myself up off the floor, and walked myself through each day until I could face the heartbreak and move on. And I did.
I met another, and once again convinced myself that she was the one for me. That all the other loves were irrelevant and that all along I had been looking for her. That all the many pathways and lessons led me to the she, with the striking eyes and bright hair. I was hers, and she was mine– until she decided she wasn’t.
So, here I am, once again, trying to redefine and understand my idea of love. Falling asleep with my notebook, where I wish she was dreaming. Ink on the sheets, spilling the evidence of my dismay.
So, I suppose, this is 29.
I will continue to reflect.
Perhaps the day I do meet the one that makes the world stop, she wont leave.
Maybe it wont be obvious at first — maybe it will.
Maybe I already know her, but she is not ready,
Or, perhaps our timing is simply off — and as her world is spinning, mine is standing still…
