keep trying

But you will never be forgiven for your sins.

how do you ask, how dare you ask

how do you ask someone to please please just wait. i can explain, the cloud, it is not permanent.

the howling animal i had locked up, there in the back of my mind. i swear i tried. i stacked so many boxes in front of that fucking door. she scratched and mewled, i could hear her pacing.
the howling animal, she's out now. she's circling me in this dark room. her fingers are in my hair.
i got a little cocky, i thought hey i'm doing great. but the weather grayed and i stopped working. my fingers and hands got restless again. i walked past the door more and more. pondering the boxes in front of it, trying to remember what i had stored in there. so i sat, and started to dig.
i went too far.
pushed all the boxes aside and pressed an ear to the door.... and waited. this time though, i didn't hear pleading... i heard laughing.
what did you think, stephanie. that i would starve?
huh. i certainly had hoped so.
oh fuck it hurts. it is like being eaten away by acid ingested, slow burning corrosive complete. a pull on a string tied to my insides, the beginning of unraveling. i don't understand this, i never have. the darkness closing it's lips around me.
i curled downward toward the floor, sobbing with a sense of grief so great i could taste it. salt and hot water, just trying to hold myself tight enough that i don't spill and circled towards the drain. what is this. please stop, please please...
he's leaving for work. i'm sure he's tired, i'm sure he has so much going on in his head too.but i'm dying. i feel like i'm dying. the sudden insanity, the tears flooding, the hurt from advances spurned. he must think this is all about sex but in reality i am struggling. he must think i'm such a fucking girl but really i'm trying to make sure i can stand up. can i stand up? drinking nyQuil in the middle of the day because i just need to sleep this off, but somehow it's not kicking.
the animal, the thing, it's curling into a ball by my feet. cold comes off it in waves and makes my spirit go black with worry and a heavy pounding. it smells like the NICU and gunpowder. i'm a little dizzy. 
how do i ask him to just hold on. just wait till i get some sun on my face and i can go back to work.
please my darling, this will pass. i'm fighting as hard as i can. but goddamn, you picked the most broken toy from the shelf, with lacquer and thick dark hair but a bundle of wires and sharp debris where batteries once nestled.
i'm trying.
and i'm so sorry.

just wait.

rambles

my head is swimming, skipping with alka-seltzer cough and cold. yikes, this stuff HITS. i'm riding this jelly shaky wave of almost nauseous and it's not nice.
so let me keep busy. let me pull my trip towards the interesting side. hey, at least i'm not coughing anymore...
as i'm stretching on the floor a second ago my mind is fleeing off in the familiar way, i'm turning my head slightly as she slips into another room - giggling and not looking back. she'll be back. right?
my legs ache from far away and i'm back to this on the pale rug in our basement. reach for your toes, tilt your head back. my body feels like a garden unattended. wild with brambles, little creatures nibbling away at it, a tired leaning fence is all the protection that's left. i wish i could venture to care for this more. my physical part. i thought that quitting smoking would be incredibly hard, but i've been inspired. i should at least re-build this fence. plant some flowers. and for fucks sake do a little trimming woman! ha.
forensic files and water. lots of water. i feel nostalgic.
i really hope everything goes ok in florida.
oh, i'm moving to florida.
there's that.
the midwest is cold and small. stunning for sure, but i don't see myself here long term. i don't know where i see myself. i have no roots. i'm planted in sand and loose gravel. i don't feel at home in my old state, i don't like the snow and wind of my new one. picky picky. but life ticks by. i have this weary soul standing next to me and it's within a person i very much like. i need him to be happy, because then i'll be insanely happy. a little sun will help. learning new things will help.
everything i own used to fit in 4 large boxes. now: a large laundry bag. and a shoebox maybe.
still, i will miss this basement. the hum of the house above, the air mattress layered with memory foam, linen, a down comforter. the lights he put up, this place he made for us. i remember the first day i came down here and i'm sure gave him the 'really?' look. but he used his hands and his smile to sell me, he chose terra cotta and teal. my favorites. he said from the beginning: i just want to give you a comfortable place to stay, i want this to be your home. little did he know he makes anywhere feel like home instantly.
florida will help.
ooohhh my head.
mmmhmmm.
i hope this all works out. what am i saying. it will.

when you are finally healthy enough

you know it in the way air tastes.
you smile in a special way - a lot less shaky and in line with the other person's face now.
things don't feel like broken glass around your fingertips, you've been cut all your life, and you're not really scared of it anymore. a little blood. it's only a little blood.
after you experience the worst pain of your life, after all the shame, all the catastrophic bumbling, the wrong kinds of touch, the most lost you've ever been in the soft black of your mind and heart.
after all that
you crawl up and out.
you fight. i fought.
somehow, after everything i am still an entire person. i used to think that i was losing pieces of myself with every horrible year. i used to feel the gaps and deep resounding aching in every limb. days in bed, tear filled face pressed to another tired friend, another weary caretaker. i thought for a second there, that i wasn't going to be able to do this.
but then i surprised myself. and everyone who rallied like champs around this broken angry girl.
air tastes magical lately. fresh and different in each place i find myself.
i'm finding i can be proud of myself, i can look into mirrors and not cringe, i don't need a cigarette, i don't need a drink.
i found that i am healthy enough, in a wonderful state, to love someone back.
and i found him. the person i needed. he wandered into my life when i was finding daylight again. in a curious state of mind, still working through so much. but finding my feet under me for once.
he took the lumps, he kept me even after i lashed and fretted. he doesn't understand how from now on i will do everything i can to make him realize it was all worth it.
he makes me want to work hard.
think deeper.
be patient.
take care of myself.
share.
i see so much of myself in him. the dark parts, that light angry cloud that hangs around his head lately, the way his hands go to his face, grimaces and sighs. grief touches us all differently, touches some of us more often than others.
my handsome man, please, don't worry.
he is the person i needed all those horrible years, he is the supportive smile and loving arms i wanted so badly in the times when i i was ready to stop. just stop.
i got lucky. i survived long enough for him to lean down and press his lips to mine and change my entire process.
so, even better, i can be the person he needs right now.
i hope i can be.
when it's different, it just is. when it's worth it, it really is.
this place used to be where i would drag in and cry and hide.
but now, i'm working on something really special.
a real life, shared.

change

We make decisions for god, country, for a better tomorrow, for the person next to us.
We make changes
We adapt to a chaotic environment.
But the lucky few that do it properly, and for themselves.
They will die happier than I will.

dream

There was snow everywhere, the town was small but not tiny. The house I was staying in was dark with no windows and it was a little run down, almost more like a place for storage than for living.
It skips in and out, I remember:
-walking with a woman through the snow and we kept slipping. She smelled like my grandmother and laughed a lot. We tried to walk over the drifts but sank deep. As we struggle to get our feet back up the drifts vibrated with small animals fleeing underneath us and it was very unsettling.
-the streets were full of animals. I saw a familiar man with a beard walking with goats and then a few bears. A small mongoose began following me. He was brown and seemed to be covered in glitter?
-I'm making dinner in the kitchen I miss. The mongoose chatters around me, hungry. It jumps onto my shoulder and nestles into my hair where I give it chocolate.
-I try to find the basement, but this house does not seem to have one. I find, instead soft earth at the head of the hint of stairs. I start to dig and find small toys, a crumpled letter, a plastic water bottle with something sharp inside, and a large green beetle.
-children vacuuming?

Hmmm. A weird one for sure.

red wine

Shhhhh
Don't say what you are thinking.

that fragile white crack

Somewhere in the midst of a crooked and harrowing life I realized that handling people and the things they feel could be my occupation.
Gently, not so much pressure, but a sense that I am there.
Even if it's just my breath, coming short and a little anxiously.
I cradled these things throughout the years.... I whispered loving secrets, cried, fiercely tore at them, crushed them sometimes, tried my best to nurture most times.
I forgot about my own little rattling feelings, tidy in a matchbox, tucked under a memory I don't look at often.
I always thought this would make me a saint, someone special.
I cared so much.
Can't you see?
Instead it backfired.
The matchbox- it's full of dust. A hole near the corner where something finally chewed through.
In my ignorance I'm not helping anyone.
I'm ignoring the reality.
These people don't need me.
Ha! Quite the opposite. I'm a fucking asshole. The protector?! The one with the rough hands trembling through every apology, every avoidable folly. I'm acting like this hurts me but in my head I'm guilty of just being a spectacular coward.
Good for me. Realization.
Too late.
Much too late.

I lost too much this time. there's nothing left for me.

I'm whispering.
Calm down. Just breathe. Calm down calm down.
Shaking a little.
What did I just give up, say goodbye to?
What have I done?
Will he change? Am I so full of stupid faith and panic that I would stand in that driveway and tell the brightest light that I have to leave. Because the other says, the other swears.... it will be different. Because I was scared.
The truth is I was so happy. Looking into his face under a sea of led Christmas lights. Crunchy mattress shifting.
His smile the most warm feeling. Lips fitted to mine.
I can barely breathe.
He asked me: what do you need?
[What can I do for you?]
How can you love two things. How am I supposed to be happy when I just want to scream.
Just want to go to my car. Drive.
In the opposite direction of the two men that are absolutely destroying me right now, but not in the way you think.
I came back to the old house and he tells me he missed me, that life was empty, that this time it will be our time. But in my head I'm wary... and I swear I smell the ocean.
God. This pain is red and fresh. Searing.
What have I done?

folly (what was i even thinking)

why am i here? in nebraska. why am i here?
i swear i thought that if i just gritted my teeth through the rocky startup of a rushed realtionship, if i just smiled enough, if i said yes, smoked less, helped out. i thought i was being treated ok. better than usual. i thought
oh shit this is ok.
rigggghhhtttttt.
right.
im fucking crawling out of my skin. here comes the loop. hang on, seatbelts please.
ive given all i have. really. the optimism, the shiny happiness, i was obviously trying so hard. it breaks my heart to read my own words these last few weeks, months, years. i can hear the desperation in them, i just wanted so much. i wanted so badly to not hurt anymore. i thought i was doing ok.
why am i sobbing here at this computer. why am i sinking inward. why does this hurt so bad.
ive lost people before. i prefer if they die i think. i can handle that grief. i cannot handle watching them separate so easily, like im wrapped in some crazy non stick coating. like furniture, i move from place to place. i try to get people to keep me. im comfy, i fit in small places, i can complement your space. but no one wants an old couch, no one wants a girl who cries all the time. no one wants baggage.
i work so hard. all the time. i give. and i come home to a trashed house, dishes, shit filled cat box. i cant find a place because of lingering issues following me from texas like a whining child. i cant do this. its just too much for me.
im so fucking tired.
the two 'he's.
he tells me to stop being so emotional. he turns his back, hes so done its not even funny.
and he tells me what im doing is wrong. this is the wrong way.
and he tells me nothing, even when i beg him.
it feels like im always begging.
and he says he ruins everything he touches, well.
i could teach him something about that.
i just want someone to tell me its ok for once.
i just want someone to fucking comfort me, goddamnit.
im taking care of people like a fucking mother, and it just reminds me that i cant give myself the one thing that will always love me unconditionally. ill never hear the voice of something that will never turn on me. i can only try and fill the space with work and broken men and im always the one left standing with a trash bag full of clothes and a stupid blank look on my face.
i came here, i made it, im sure somehow i am proud of myself.
but today, im a fucking mess. a fucking burning mess.
im gonna go curl up in my bathtub and try to make the world stop spinning.
then when the storm stops, maybe a few new marks later.
i get to clean and take care of things that arent mine.
i get to try not to fail my classes.
ill get by.
i hope. i guess right now i dont really give a shit. but i have to try, i think.

Leave it at home.

She could swear every time she walks into her apartment, something is different.
She breathes in while standing in her water colored living room, eyes run over the pale greens and washed out blue of her life. Stacked high in corners, scattered on the leaning coffee table, wilting from lack of water in her windowsill. She stands still and tries not to exhale, until her chest burns and her eyes feel a little cloudy. She thinks about making a noise, something human - preferably with words - out into the cold, still space of her home.
I mean, doesn’t it look like someone was in here?
She shakes her head a little, then trails from room to room, flipping switches. On, everything on. Articles of clothing shed from her as she walks. Light and skin become the dominant features of the space. She steps softly into the bathroom, noticing, like always, that the mirror is much too high.
It doesn’t matter. It’s covered in lace and twine from the great week of destruction in 2011.
Oh that week.
Fingering the fraying edge of lace, she smiles and remembers how she stood looking at herself for about an hour before she started throwing punches. Shame, she liked that mirror.
Wandering out into the other rooms, she can see the soft indention in the mauve carpet, where she’s done this a thousand times before. Her mind clicks ever so slightly as she runs hands over her stomach to her chin. She’s breathing a song that has been in her head since Wednesday as she touches the spot on the counter in the kitchen where the paint is chipped to the steel.
Her feet tangle for a second, what is this.
This is nothing new, honey.
This is your cave, your allegory, this is where you are.
Her thighs brush, her hair shifts on her back, her eyes are not open anymore.
This blue and green prison.
This place you claim to love. Is this yours?
The couch is just close enough. Her fingers find her pulse. She needs to remember to exhale.
What did you say? What did you want to say? Remember?
She's pulling her legs in.
We are talking to you. Don't be rude.
Her eyes are open now.
Just tell me what you were going to say.

three days off, a new shirt, and finding comfort in the next state

i have been falling up lately. let's talk about Iowa.
the last day of 2013 i woke up early. i felt weird, anxious. i packed a small bag.
see, something happens to people when the year ends. they make fantastic plans, they see the glint of change in their very near future like a promise, they say things will be different. everyone buzzes about the evening to come, tonight we drink tomorrow we will be ... better.
this year, i found my idea of a resolution had changed.
i petted the cat, i got in my car, and i drove.
it has never been like this.
i'm sorry to be so repetitive but
i just don't know how else to explain who i was when i decided to leave the house i have lived in for two years
leave all the things i knew and the roads i had memorized in that time to drive to a small town in Iowa and see him.
i don't know Iowa. i have hardly been out of the city i live in there on there in Nebraska, i barely leave my neighborhood. but i'm on the highway going 85, blaring Chvrches and having a cigarette and it's fucking freezing but fuck, i'm doing it. i'm doing this. such a long stretch, the hills roll with me. i'm surprised at how beautiful i find what i'm passing. i mean, i was breaking into smiles just from the scenery, the fucking serenity in it, the movement like the curves of a soft woman or the flow of water as lines create patterns in the land.
silos, barns, black cows dotting the browish grass.
i knew it was all dead but the creamy beige of the ground against the blue sky had me breathless. trees, naked and reaching. snow still hiding in shadows. passing wind turbines i think of driving to Corpus Christi back home but that thought is pushed out by the biting cold from my cracked window. surreal.
i get to the little town, boasting a wind mill and hardly much else, and when i'm in the driveway i think it struck me that i had actually done it.
who is this person? why am i driving away from what i thought was home to see him?
just what is happening here?
here, my mind clicks back to our first conversation, in the cold car, in that parking lot and i remember when he started talking and suddenly the words were tumbling from him like a waterfall.
he gave me so much that night when we had never even had a full conversation.
i was already breaking away then, from the current souring situation.
i was angry and distant as usual. i am such a stupid girl sometimes.
but the hardening thing in my chest asked me to try just one more time to reach out. and just so happens, that sunday night, here was this man in front of me.
and he said yes when i asked him.
our first conversation he
didn't ask too much
didn't tilt his head and say oh honey i'm so sorry
he didn't try to touch me
he sat there and talked. and i needed that.
i'm falling up. into these things that used to perplex me.
i used to be so frustrated that i couldn't just be alone. but now i realize that i like people too much to let them be.
i can be ok with this. i see now it was never the people, the timing, the total, it was always the control and lack thereof that let me down. the angry earthquake of giving too much too fast or expecting this to solve everything and why won't he just love me blah blah blah. expectations. just ridiculous.
i set myself up for failure, but luckily i held onto enough of the still soft parts of my heart to let this one in. maybe you made it just in time. ha! lucky you.
i put my hand out and he took it.
i'm pleasantly surprised often with this one.
the first time i reached for his hand he took mine with an ease i wasn't expecting. we walk up to the cold bar and as i lean into him to shield the wind he gently puts an arm around me, and it feels like something i know, it feels like its been there for years. i drunkenly talk about random things using my hands way too much but he just smiles and leans in, hand on my thigh, following my words. it is the first time i have ever had a man help me into my coat.
i'm in the driveway.
he comes out and lets me into his house, green carpet, little statues, dust, books. it smells so familiar, makes me remember my grandma in california. i won't give too much here, it feels private.
we continue on to Des Moines to a friend's house to welcome the new year. the place is beautiful, the host amazing. a fat old white cat roams around until he sees me, then he avoids the living room often. that's a gay man's cat for you. our host goes to dinner with his boyfriend and leaves us to our own devices for a few hours. bad move. hmm.
the night goes on and we snack, drink, talk, and i am just enjoying this so much. his friend is sweet, and when him and his guy get back they cuddle on the couch watching the countdown while we mingle in the dining area. eye contact, warmth, sierra nevada. i can't keep my hands to myself.
this person in front of me is special. i want him.
at midnight he kisses me and when he puts one arm firmly around me and one up to my face i am feeling the rum, feeling a little dizzy, i am simply elated. the night blurs. happy new year.
the next day lounging around his friends, i spend too much time napping and watching DIY while they put up drywall in the basement. it snowed, and as pretty as it is, i am a little nervous. we leave after dark, while we are driving he tells me the things he likes about me, why i am special, and he asks me if i am going to stay with him again.
of course.
and while his bed isn't as big as the others we tangle together in various levels of hushed need and sleep. he feels perfect in my arms.
i don't need new years resolutions when i can still achieve this feeling with another person.
i'm just ... feeling pretty good right now.

some points:
-i found a painting in the basement of his friends house said friend had done. i fell in love with it. he gave it to me. fucking awesome. 
-the cat let me touch him once.
-i didn't brush my teeth for two days! what the hell.
-we went to the car drunk for a cigarette after the ball dropped and i left my window down. then 2 inches of snow fell.
-his sister is one cool chick.
-that smile makes me float.
-i had a few rushed dreams last night, they were all in purples and maybe bronze? lots of running and throwing things.