It's been awhile since I've done one of these. It pangs my heart to write these words knowing they're coming from several pieces of my breaking soul and spirit. Not my heart, though. They won't get that.
There used to be a time when my eye never strayed from a pen touching paper. Whether it be doodles or notes or fragments of sentences that never found a proper place, words were my everything. Now what's my everything? Nothing and anything, with lots in between. Cigarettes, alcohol, and insecurites primarily. Not necessarily in that order, but one cannot be taken without the other these days...
My issue is, I lose focus easily. My mind flows from one large ocean to several streams in five seconds. For example, I just looked through different tabs of Facebook, YouTube, and this, and it's taking me way normal than it has to be for me to write something that comes so easily when it's time to cry...
... and this is where the main focal point comes to a head... finally...
My friend Travis referred me to his sister's blog last week in regards to a long discussion about religion. Not to relay the details of that conversation, but he thought I might find some inspiration in her relationship with the world in conjunction with her relationship with God. Granted, I did find inspiration, but not in the hopes that he would've liked. What grabbed my attention was a blog she posted about wanting to find love, and wondering if the Lord's love was all she needed to fill her empty heart. She then concluded that, it's okay to pray for someone. It's okay to realize your lonliness. It's okay to want someone to understand the depths of your soul.
At a time I thought this was true, that it was okay to wait for that one person that makes you feel that if the world ended now you would watch the new dawn approach hand in hand and soul with soul.
Now I don't know what I think.
Friday, October 02, 2009
Monday, June 01, 2009
Roughly.
Today, oh man... today.
Today is my 21st birthday. Well, respectively, my 21st birthday was two days ago, but the condensing fumes of vodka and champage seeping through my skin has made the last three days my celebratory birthday.
[This was a draft I found today, October 18, and I have no idea where it was going, but it went, and then stayed.]
Today is my 21st birthday. Well, respectively, my 21st birthday was two days ago, but the condensing fumes of vodka and champage seeping through my skin has made the last three days my celebratory birthday.
[This was a draft I found today, October 18, and I have no idea where it was going, but it went, and then stayed.]
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Radha™
I seek to be brighter than the sun, hanging in the sky so effortlessly.
A glowing beacon of hope, with adoration all eyes will follow me.
When I leave and fade away for the night, the one after me will shine from the remnants of my light, battered and torn from being away from me.
I'll laugh with my rays and keep smiling away thinking no one can get close to me.
My unrequited IS brighter than the sun, hanging in the sky so effortlessly.
A glowing beacon of hope, with love and adoration my eyes always follow him.
When he sets for the night, I still glow from his remaining light, hurt and longing to be near him.
He laughs with his rays knowing that no one can get close to him.
Remember my dear, longing is older than love, just like night is longer than day, and I'll be bigger and brighter than you someday, baby
don't wait up for me.
A glowing beacon of hope, with adoration all eyes will follow me.
When I leave and fade away for the night, the one after me will shine from the remnants of my light, battered and torn from being away from me.
I'll laugh with my rays and keep smiling away thinking no one can get close to me.
My unrequited IS brighter than the sun, hanging in the sky so effortlessly.
A glowing beacon of hope, with love and adoration my eyes always follow him.
When he sets for the night, I still glow from his remaining light, hurt and longing to be near him.
He laughs with his rays knowing that no one can get close to him.
Remember my dear, longing is older than love, just like night is longer than day, and I'll be bigger and brighter than you someday, baby
don't wait up for me.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Doctor Who, M.D.
I swore I'd never be one of those girls, but I'm not gonna lie.
It kind of hurt.
It wasn't a stabbing pain, more like a sharp twinge. Like your first bong hit. Or speeding through a yellow light when you should have come to a stop. Do you know that feeling? It was like my insides were being twisted in knots and pulled out through the middle of my D cups.
"This must be how it feels approaching a black hole," I said, sucking in a deep breath. Taking my bra off did nothing to release this tension. With every inhale my lids would close, and with every exhale, my eyes would sting.
Sad that a cursor did all of this. A blinking, black cursor. A nagging vertical line reminding you every second that you have nothing to say. Maybe because he has nothing to say to you.
It didn't start out this way. I had plenty of things to say. He had plenty of things to say. Hell, he had more things to say before I even knew he wanted to say them to me. Then somehow it led to a white box and invisible words. Staring at an empty screen 'til my eyes got fuzzy.
"Who told you love was fleeting/sometimes men can be so misleading/to take what they need from you," Tim Kasher sang.
I understand that I fall hard like an 82 year old without a walker, but... this time it felt right. Then again, it always feels right, but what Kasher sang is true- the facade is there until men gain what they sought. Then a violin is played, the curtain drops, the lights dim, and I'm alone on stage. Singing an aria to an absent crowd. Again.
It kind of hurt.
It wasn't a stabbing pain, more like a sharp twinge. Like your first bong hit. Or speeding through a yellow light when you should have come to a stop. Do you know that feeling? It was like my insides were being twisted in knots and pulled out through the middle of my D cups.
"This must be how it feels approaching a black hole," I said, sucking in a deep breath. Taking my bra off did nothing to release this tension. With every inhale my lids would close, and with every exhale, my eyes would sting.
Sad that a cursor did all of this. A blinking, black cursor. A nagging vertical line reminding you every second that you have nothing to say. Maybe because he has nothing to say to you.
It didn't start out this way. I had plenty of things to say. He had plenty of things to say. Hell, he had more things to say before I even knew he wanted to say them to me. Then somehow it led to a white box and invisible words. Staring at an empty screen 'til my eyes got fuzzy.
"Who told you love was fleeting/sometimes men can be so misleading/to take what they need from you," Tim Kasher sang.
I understand that I fall hard like an 82 year old without a walker, but... this time it felt right. Then again, it always feels right, but what Kasher sang is true- the facade is there until men gain what they sought. Then a violin is played, the curtain drops, the lights dim, and I'm alone on stage. Singing an aria to an absent crowd. Again.
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