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?
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Monday, January 27, 2014
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.
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.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
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.
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.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
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.
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.
Sunday, December 29, 2013
singing. remember when i used to sing? (tegan and sara edition)
i am feeling something, man.
mostly i am feeling pretty fucking lucky.
the ride home is cold, hands shake, breathing foggy, still marveling at the effect of GLOVES. Sainthood is currently on repeat. and im just fucking singing. loud and completely obnoxious, just belting out the higher parts when sara asks
-would you take a calm and tender terminal kind of care?
-would you touch me
-cling and wage an intimate fight for me?
it is no wonder i am such a strange animal lately, these things, these simple short songs tell me i can be more than the lower parts of this month. the old feeling, do you remember? muffled now, the creature howls in a back room somewhere, with the memories from middle school and the other blackish bits. oh, so angry i am ignoring it. while it can live without food and water, it cannot exist without my pitiful ass succumbing. unfortunately, ive found the locks and a sturdy chair to lean against that door. you poor thing. please. just die.
-i know you feel it too, it all seems so untrue
-uh oh oh no uh oh oh no
look. after the tragedy that was 2010, the massive reconstruction, the fact that i am standing upright and by some blessed miracle - excelling - i just don't know. i don't want to get extreme and say "oh i don't give a shit anymore yeah!" nah, i definitely care. i certainly feel. i still feel the soft tugs of something that could very well be love. i lust, touch, reach, i care. but maybe the whole thing jump started the process of realizing that i am truly on my own as far as making this whole shit life work.
freedom. the smallest amounts.
it just feels so fucking good.
-slow down, you transfer all your weight and disappear
-slow it down, you have a tendency to rush right into your past
you know? hell yea. i used to go back to what i thought were the bright parts. i used to hold onto people that were just the absolute worst things, angry kicking things. i thought these instances of sharp emotion, sex, booze, punching holes in walls oh my god what a fucking life i have had sir good lord? huuuhhh got lost there. i was going to go off on this idea that it was all for nothing buuut FUCK THAT. what a fucking life i have had!
i repeat, i am so lucky.
i think about my grandparents, chaste and faithful in their religion, finding comfort in consistency and structure. my parents, staying together when all that would have ever made them absolutely happy was being apart.
-i won't make a scene over you
then i think about me. i might have crashed so haphazardly through life but holy shit i could not imagine any other way to learn. grow. after being told you are sick, being told you wont make it. being told you wont be anything.
-i know the world's been mean to you i've got a cure hold tight
-oh oh when you say it so so slowly to me oh oh like keep going
-oh oh i know you need it so so i need it too and oh oh i must keep going so you must too
and i made it. angels by my side in her drunken i love yous her beautiful fucking grace, in the lights of a city i barely remember now, in a friends art and love for a dog, in his arms around me in the basement of a bar in council bluffs, iowa as he presses his face to my neck and good lord has anyone held me like this before?
in this i know that life is something special.
ha! these ridiculous blogs, i am so happy here. i am so motherfucking cheesy.
who gives a shit. im fucking FLYING.
the creature mewls and i just fucking laugh. never again. you can't have me ever again.
-hard-hearted don't worry i'm ready for a fight
it just never been like this. its never been like this, you know, you've been here.
i think i asked before, in the great sorrow, what was the lesson?
life took everything, the universe told me- no.
but i think the lesson was that my legs were still under me. that somehow my smile still worked, my heart was still -against my deepest wishes- beating.
the lesson took a few years. i had to hate things for a while, had to give up a lot of myself, had to admit.... things. i had to realize. i had to experience that ripping grief. i needed that.
and fuck. it hurt. it tore parts of me out that i will never recover. but overall, as a whole, i exist.
and maybe i need to stop asking why and start making that existence something that fucking counts.
-might paint something I might want to hang here someday,
-might write something I might want to say to you someday,
-might do something I'd be proud of someday.
-mark my words, I might be something someday
hm. who would have thought that life would work just like they always told you. be patient. figure it all out. go through some shit. find yourself.
im not even 30.
is there more?
the thought makes me smile, not cringe, and that. that is special.
mostly i am feeling pretty fucking lucky.
the ride home is cold, hands shake, breathing foggy, still marveling at the effect of GLOVES. Sainthood is currently on repeat. and im just fucking singing. loud and completely obnoxious, just belting out the higher parts when sara asks
-would you take a calm and tender terminal kind of care?
-would you touch me
-cling and wage an intimate fight for me?
it is no wonder i am such a strange animal lately, these things, these simple short songs tell me i can be more than the lower parts of this month. the old feeling, do you remember? muffled now, the creature howls in a back room somewhere, with the memories from middle school and the other blackish bits. oh, so angry i am ignoring it. while it can live without food and water, it cannot exist without my pitiful ass succumbing. unfortunately, ive found the locks and a sturdy chair to lean against that door. you poor thing. please. just die.
-i know you feel it too, it all seems so untrue
-uh oh oh no uh oh oh no
look. after the tragedy that was 2010, the massive reconstruction, the fact that i am standing upright and by some blessed miracle - excelling - i just don't know. i don't want to get extreme and say "oh i don't give a shit anymore yeah!" nah, i definitely care. i certainly feel. i still feel the soft tugs of something that could very well be love. i lust, touch, reach, i care. but maybe the whole thing jump started the process of realizing that i am truly on my own as far as making this whole shit life work.
freedom. the smallest amounts.
it just feels so fucking good.
-slow down, you transfer all your weight and disappear
-slow it down, you have a tendency to rush right into your past
you know? hell yea. i used to go back to what i thought were the bright parts. i used to hold onto people that were just the absolute worst things, angry kicking things. i thought these instances of sharp emotion, sex, booze, punching holes in walls oh my god what a fucking life i have had sir good lord? huuuhhh got lost there. i was going to go off on this idea that it was all for nothing buuut FUCK THAT. what a fucking life i have had!
i repeat, i am so lucky.
i think about my grandparents, chaste and faithful in their religion, finding comfort in consistency and structure. my parents, staying together when all that would have ever made them absolutely happy was being apart.
-i won't make a scene over you
then i think about me. i might have crashed so haphazardly through life but holy shit i could not imagine any other way to learn. grow. after being told you are sick, being told you wont make it. being told you wont be anything.
-i know the world's been mean to you i've got a cure hold tight
-oh oh when you say it so so slowly to me oh oh like keep going
-oh oh i know you need it so so i need it too and oh oh i must keep going so you must too
and i made it. angels by my side in her drunken i love yous her beautiful fucking grace, in the lights of a city i barely remember now, in a friends art and love for a dog, in his arms around me in the basement of a bar in council bluffs, iowa as he presses his face to my neck and good lord has anyone held me like this before?
in this i know that life is something special.
ha! these ridiculous blogs, i am so happy here. i am so motherfucking cheesy.
who gives a shit. im fucking FLYING.
the creature mewls and i just fucking laugh. never again. you can't have me ever again.
-hard-hearted don't worry i'm ready for a fight
it just never been like this. its never been like this, you know, you've been here.
i think i asked before, in the great sorrow, what was the lesson?
life took everything, the universe told me- no.
but i think the lesson was that my legs were still under me. that somehow my smile still worked, my heart was still -against my deepest wishes- beating.
the lesson took a few years. i had to hate things for a while, had to give up a lot of myself, had to admit.... things. i had to realize. i had to experience that ripping grief. i needed that.
and fuck. it hurt. it tore parts of me out that i will never recover. but overall, as a whole, i exist.
and maybe i need to stop asking why and start making that existence something that fucking counts.
-might paint something I might want to hang here someday,
-might write something I might want to say to you someday,
-might do something I'd be proud of someday.
-mark my words, I might be something someday
hm. who would have thought that life would work just like they always told you. be patient. figure it all out. go through some shit. find yourself.
im not even 30.
is there more?
the thought makes me smile, not cringe, and that. that is special.
Friday, December 27, 2013
moving, gin, work (the fuck the holidays edition)
What is it about the holidays, man? It’s a fucking beast. At
work people walk up foaming at the mouth, growling orders, staring a little too
hard, challenging and short. Me and the girls are taking beatings, frantically
moving, putting up the hard faced walls we need to protect ourselves. I mean, we
try to smile through the angry rushes but that one person walks up again
telling us what they need, skipping the thank yous, texting and snapping gum
and suddenly our eyes are losing focus again and the red flushes our cheeks
giving us away. When you walk up and the girl in the stained apron has the dead
behind the eyes lord make it stop look and her hair is going this way and her
hands shake a little, know that you did this. You did this to us. It may be why
you get an edge the rest of year. Sorry. The holidays. Dramatic I know. But fuck
it.
I’ve been really into gin lately. Again, fuck it.
I’ve been stealing into the night. Trying to forget the
ripping pain of the man I’ve spent the last 2 years with telling me he doesn’t really
want to know any more about me. What’s in a past anyway? I have strange secrets
now. But whatever. I'm exploring.
Moving out feels exciting. First time since the duplex with the blue floors. This should be interesting. Council Bluffs, Iowa. How the fuck did I end up here?
.....
Thursday, December 19, 2013
THIS
Sometime about 3 years ago something in me was able to find
all the right switches. She wandered around my mind, slightly skipping, maybe
humming, and flicked all the ones she could find with blinking lights, steam
seeping, and angry red cracked handles. She found all of them. She did too good
a job I think. I shut down. Crying there while I typed about my dead child,
wondering what the fuck I was going to do, fighting so hard not to just give up:
that must have been when the part of me started to gather the blueprints.
She must have known. I must have known.
It was perfect. I did something right. I took precautionary
measures.
For when the man I chose that night in September would scar
me for life, and never apologize.
For when I decided to move to Nebraska with him anyway and
had my heart break repeatedly with grief and homesickness for weeks and weeks
while he sat stone cold next to me in disgust till finally, it stopped.
For when my friends gave up. For good reasons. But you know,
I’m selfish.
For my parents fighting on the phone, for my mother sobbing
into the receiver at 3am. Where is your father? He never comes home. God have I
wasted my life? Please mom, I…. can’t.
For losing my grandma. And her beautiful smile. I was so far
away.
I was fucking prepared. None of that shit hurt as bad as it
would have 3 or so years ago. Are you fucking kidding me? What is this huh? Are
you even trying anymore, universe?
Remember when you took everything? Ha! I remember. I have a
thousand little reminders. I remember.
And this time motherfucker, I was fucking ready.
It’s why I when I heard her voice on the phone for the first
time, I knew she would be a great boss. I could hear her kindness, I could hear
her firmness, and I could hear her laugh and I liked it. I knew I wanted to
work for her. And I did. I do.
It’s why I didn’t share, why I was strong enough to carry
all of this. Why I could build relationships. Why I chose the second chance,
the anonymity. It’s been so fucking wonderful. They smile into my face, they
laugh with me, and they don’t pity me. They see my eyes, they hear my words,
they judge me fairly. I gave myself this chance.
It’s why I was able to ask another into my car, and without
fear.
It’s why I am so fucking successful here, FUCK I am doing
awesome. Excelling.
It’s why I am finally who I really was all along.
I took the measures.
Its why every time you made me feel like a fool I stood firm,
looked you right in the face and said you better fucking watch it. Or you will
lose me. You will lose this. You will lose everything. I am everything. For once
in my miserable life I am everything.
I was never so empowered.
I warned you. By god. I did everything right. I talked till I
was hoarse, I tried not to cry. I made my points into special little understandable
easy to digest pellets and shot them like buckshot from this articulate and
aggressive mouth of mine.
I could only love you the way I knew how and expect the same
back.
Too much to ask for?
FUCK NO.
Again, are you fucking kidding me? Almost in my thirties and
having been through all the shit I have are you FUCKING kidding me sir.
I am smart, I have a beautiful smile, soft hips, thick hair,
sharp wit, I sing too loud in the car but I know all the words to the songs you
like, and I can teach you things. I love deeply, and I reach. I study,
goddamnit I work like a fucking dog. A whirlwind of attention and energy. This is
what the fuck you are losing.
No one has time to fight with somebody, beg somebody to love
them.
Especially not me.
But I did. How sad. Ha! Oh jesus, I begged you to just let
me in, just tell me why you don’t care as much as I do. Did. You sat across of
me and said I don’t know where this is all coming from and I almost fucking
laughed out loud. Holy shit. I haven’t had a feeling like that in such a long
time. I just almost threw my head back and laughed.
Before I would have been a mess. Oh my god I’m so sorry it
is all my fault I’m sorry don’t worry I will fix this.
NO.
NO.
NO.
Not this time. You had the misfortune of coming after the
enlightenment. After one cheated, after one decided I was poison, after one sat
across from me while I shook apart and held the screwdriver out like a knife. Are
you ready? Did you call the cops? Let them come. Don’t make a fucking sound.
I took precautions. You see, I set rules. I did something
right.
For the times you cringed when I would cry. For the time I tried
to talk about the baby and you said let’s not do this. For the times I tried to
talk about my little brother and you changed the subject. For you, erasing my
past. Pretending it never happened. I used to be like you honey.
I’m not even really talking to anyone anymore.
I used to think giving all I had was something heroic.
I know now I was just a fucking idiot.
I was so fucking stupid.
But I know me better than anyone. I know what I need; I know
what will fix this. I am so strong now it scares me. I am so fucking strong. I ask
now, I look into a strangers eyes and say come get to know me. I ask the tough
questions. I will always want to touch. I do touch. Spontaneous, I do more than
just touch now. I take. I will from now on always want a part of the people I know.
I am a different thing now. You took nothing from me.
And sadly, I am done with this chapter. You had your chance,
baby.
I will take my cat. I will take what little possessions I have.
I will take my heart. I am finished.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Actress
Everything has been, very much amazing. I am not sure what they put in the water up here, but it has kept me sane and level. Straight, bro, I'm straight. As the kids say. But I can't give Nebraska all the credit. I have been taking steps.
Cautions.
I have been removing things from my life slowly, methodically.
Removing images, music, movies, alcohol, trying hard to pry memories that sear from my brain.
They creep back in the middle of the night sometimes, mostly when I slip and have some drinks, or he falls asleep and I lay there, staring upwards, rolling rolling rolling.
i've abandoned the capitalization, i must be in this.
i should slow down.
Texas.
so i visit as often as i can.
i really do miss the east side, and the heat, and the people. the few i love, and painfully feel i need to see.
each time it has become more apparent. times are changing. i just want to talk about what had happened in this last visit. one of my caretakers have given all they can to me.
Thomas:
he stands on the porch and looks around. i feel the separation almost immediately. the last time i was here, he was able to come out for one night of my three, and this time, i know this will probably be our only interaction. i look at this man, my once fiercest protector, the whipping boy in my vicious blind white rage years, the one who loved me so much became so vulnerable i destroyed most of the better parts of him like a forest fire. small roots finally growing in his ashy wasteland of a heart and now he has a beautiful woman next to him and he has a life thankfully beyond that ugly shit. he takes care of our dog like a child. marty is fat and old and he walks over when tom sits on the edge of the bed and lays his graying face against his legs, looking up at him with so much affection i can't help but laugh. i look around the house i once lived in, this place. our paintings mingle on the walls, in a variety of outrageous colors, nudity, glue, and random mixed media. drawings in shitty frames, charcoal eyes staring. the giant canvasses that we all got a piece of, even tone.
but, the part that hurts the most.
i find the stacks of sketch pads.
the old ones. i look through them, never while hes around, i feel like they embarrass him, but i have to punish my self for the absolute SHITSTORM i was. the pages i want are in the middle, two of them. between amazing sketches of mechs and fantastical women and lots and lots of tentacles. i don't think i will ever forget what they are, but i can't share. i want to take them, or burn them. i don't know yet. i go find him outside, we chase the dog, laugh, he marvels at how long my hair is, we talk about the two people we love, and i buy him whataburger. marty gets his own fries. when i leave i feel so sad. turns out, that was the only time i would see him this visit. and probably for a long time. after returning home i send him the hardest text ever, telling him to go have his life, that i will be ok, that i am ok, that i will always love him and be here. he must have needed this, he just didn't know how to ask for it. i haven't heard from him since. it hurts, but it isn't devastating when i can convince myself i did the right thing by him.
meanwhile, back in SA, my soul mate is getting off of work, and i go to her.
Dawnelle:
We meet at her house and she laughs at the fact that she rented me a car and the first thing i did was scratch the back bumper in an HEB parking lot. god. the whole weekend is for us it seems. she shows me her new house, i meet her spaztastic dog and we get right into what we always do when we see each other now a days: breaking our lives down for the other. it is always a nonstop conversation of epic proportions with her. laying in her bed, on her back porch with all the seed pods from her trees falling dramatically around us, in the bars.
she chain smokes and asks me questions, i can't stop staring at her face.
we just don't stop, small white sticks to our lips, lighters flaring.
i miss her everyday, her fucking grace man, she has the biggest strongest and most willing heart of anyone i've ever met. she may just be the reason i still believe in love and compassion. from the earliest memory of her, she has the level headed logic of a police negotiator. she has hated me, saved me, and rehabilitated me. and i've tried with all of my bumbling efforts to help her in her life. i couldn't exist without her. her voice cracks when she says you don't know how much i miss you, and pretty soon it's cry fest 2013. but i think we both realize that no one else can touch the ugliest subjects with us like this. i don't talk about the baby with anyone but her, about losing my brother. i don't tell people about the horrific events that have unfolded in my life, and the same for her. we don't trust like normal people, but we trust each other. we are lucky. to have this outlet. we encourage the other to try to open up. it's a process. with lots of cigarettes and wine and dog kisses in between. i meet her amazing boyfriend. he's pretty special. i hope he stays. she makes puts the tom situation into perspective for me, which prompts the text i send him the next week. she makes it hurt less. fuck, she gives me hope. i love her so much. we really are just two girls trying to figure life out. cheese, i know. but our scars and bitterness are our tells that this shit is real.
After finding that my thought third best friend is an angry monster, i realize, i have uprooted.
i.... no longer feel much for the city i left in such a careless hurry. i cried for it for weeks after getting here, even with the beautiful snow and amazing job. following a man i hardly even fucking knew. curled into a ball i was convinced i miss so many things, so many feeling that now i am not sure were even real. did i imagine the magic? was there a veil over my eyes the whole time? i remember certain things now, like getting rolled in the middle school bathroom, gunshots at our first home and being thrown to the ground, cockroaches, yelling, sweltering heat. i still hold onto the hidden gems, like the shinier times of 2007, dancing, and finding the hidden hallway to nowhere downtown. but for the most part i wanted to leave behind the shell of the heartless, withering, aged so much beyond her years girl who just wanted to break everything she could, cut every pale inch, and use her words to kill any chance she had of a healthy relationship. and i just might have succeeded.
i feel like i am tricking everyone here, almost like i am lying.
i got to start over, is it fair?
shit. i hope so, because i need this man. need it. like water, like calm, like the finality of realizing this is my last chance to make a life. i think the next fall will actually kill me. my paper heart is so fragile i never feel it beat, just flutter. i used to hunger for people, reach uncaring through personal space and invade like a sickness. now i sit at home and do math on the computer. talk to the cat. make coffee. i don't even turn the tv on some days. i am a little lonely. but i need to rehabilitate. learn how to interact normally. it's coming along. slowly but surely, right?
i'm determined to make the most of this. so far, it is working. i can't ask for more. i still ache for texas, but now it is more whimsical and story like and i know it. there is the chance for a new life in nebraska.
take 2.
coats.
a promotion.
these sunsets, my god.
these wonderful girls and boys i work with.
Chile.
and of course, the man. he is trying. i hope he knows i am too.
just happy i still have this.
more soon.
Cautions.
I have been removing things from my life slowly, methodically.
Removing images, music, movies, alcohol, trying hard to pry memories that sear from my brain.
They creep back in the middle of the night sometimes, mostly when I slip and have some drinks, or he falls asleep and I lay there, staring upwards, rolling rolling rolling.
i've abandoned the capitalization, i must be in this.
i should slow down.
Texas.
so i visit as often as i can.
i really do miss the east side, and the heat, and the people. the few i love, and painfully feel i need to see.
each time it has become more apparent. times are changing. i just want to talk about what had happened in this last visit. one of my caretakers have given all they can to me.
Thomas:
he stands on the porch and looks around. i feel the separation almost immediately. the last time i was here, he was able to come out for one night of my three, and this time, i know this will probably be our only interaction. i look at this man, my once fiercest protector, the whipping boy in my vicious blind white rage years, the one who loved me so much became so vulnerable i destroyed most of the better parts of him like a forest fire. small roots finally growing in his ashy wasteland of a heart and now he has a beautiful woman next to him and he has a life thankfully beyond that ugly shit. he takes care of our dog like a child. marty is fat and old and he walks over when tom sits on the edge of the bed and lays his graying face against his legs, looking up at him with so much affection i can't help but laugh. i look around the house i once lived in, this place. our paintings mingle on the walls, in a variety of outrageous colors, nudity, glue, and random mixed media. drawings in shitty frames, charcoal eyes staring. the giant canvasses that we all got a piece of, even tone.
but, the part that hurts the most.
i find the stacks of sketch pads.
the old ones. i look through them, never while hes around, i feel like they embarrass him, but i have to punish my self for the absolute SHITSTORM i was. the pages i want are in the middle, two of them. between amazing sketches of mechs and fantastical women and lots and lots of tentacles. i don't think i will ever forget what they are, but i can't share. i want to take them, or burn them. i don't know yet. i go find him outside, we chase the dog, laugh, he marvels at how long my hair is, we talk about the two people we love, and i buy him whataburger. marty gets his own fries. when i leave i feel so sad. turns out, that was the only time i would see him this visit. and probably for a long time. after returning home i send him the hardest text ever, telling him to go have his life, that i will be ok, that i am ok, that i will always love him and be here. he must have needed this, he just didn't know how to ask for it. i haven't heard from him since. it hurts, but it isn't devastating when i can convince myself i did the right thing by him.
meanwhile, back in SA, my soul mate is getting off of work, and i go to her.
Dawnelle:
We meet at her house and she laughs at the fact that she rented me a car and the first thing i did was scratch the back bumper in an HEB parking lot. god. the whole weekend is for us it seems. she shows me her new house, i meet her spaztastic dog and we get right into what we always do when we see each other now a days: breaking our lives down for the other. it is always a nonstop conversation of epic proportions with her. laying in her bed, on her back porch with all the seed pods from her trees falling dramatically around us, in the bars.
she chain smokes and asks me questions, i can't stop staring at her face.
we just don't stop, small white sticks to our lips, lighters flaring.
i miss her everyday, her fucking grace man, she has the biggest strongest and most willing heart of anyone i've ever met. she may just be the reason i still believe in love and compassion. from the earliest memory of her, she has the level headed logic of a police negotiator. she has hated me, saved me, and rehabilitated me. and i've tried with all of my bumbling efforts to help her in her life. i couldn't exist without her. her voice cracks when she says you don't know how much i miss you, and pretty soon it's cry fest 2013. but i think we both realize that no one else can touch the ugliest subjects with us like this. i don't talk about the baby with anyone but her, about losing my brother. i don't tell people about the horrific events that have unfolded in my life, and the same for her. we don't trust like normal people, but we trust each other. we are lucky. to have this outlet. we encourage the other to try to open up. it's a process. with lots of cigarettes and wine and dog kisses in between. i meet her amazing boyfriend. he's pretty special. i hope he stays. she makes puts the tom situation into perspective for me, which prompts the text i send him the next week. she makes it hurt less. fuck, she gives me hope. i love her so much. we really are just two girls trying to figure life out. cheese, i know. but our scars and bitterness are our tells that this shit is real.
After finding that my thought third best friend is an angry monster, i realize, i have uprooted.
i.... no longer feel much for the city i left in such a careless hurry. i cried for it for weeks after getting here, even with the beautiful snow and amazing job. following a man i hardly even fucking knew. curled into a ball i was convinced i miss so many things, so many feeling that now i am not sure were even real. did i imagine the magic? was there a veil over my eyes the whole time? i remember certain things now, like getting rolled in the middle school bathroom, gunshots at our first home and being thrown to the ground, cockroaches, yelling, sweltering heat. i still hold onto the hidden gems, like the shinier times of 2007, dancing, and finding the hidden hallway to nowhere downtown. but for the most part i wanted to leave behind the shell of the heartless, withering, aged so much beyond her years girl who just wanted to break everything she could, cut every pale inch, and use her words to kill any chance she had of a healthy relationship. and i just might have succeeded.
i feel like i am tricking everyone here, almost like i am lying.
i got to start over, is it fair?
shit. i hope so, because i need this man. need it. like water, like calm, like the finality of realizing this is my last chance to make a life. i think the next fall will actually kill me. my paper heart is so fragile i never feel it beat, just flutter. i used to hunger for people, reach uncaring through personal space and invade like a sickness. now i sit at home and do math on the computer. talk to the cat. make coffee. i don't even turn the tv on some days. i am a little lonely. but i need to rehabilitate. learn how to interact normally. it's coming along. slowly but surely, right?
i'm determined to make the most of this. so far, it is working. i can't ask for more. i still ache for texas, but now it is more whimsical and story like and i know it. there is the chance for a new life in nebraska.
take 2.
coats.
a promotion.
these sunsets, my god.
these wonderful girls and boys i work with.
Chile.
and of course, the man. he is trying. i hope he knows i am too.
just happy i still have this.
more soon.
Saturday, July 20, 2013
strength. but don't worry, i'll be still.
I.... am a new person. I am sitting in a room, cool and dark, the cat is sleeping and so is he. I'm typing on a tablet, the tv is like: here, watch the x files, you have netflix now. I am something different than I once was. I remember a time, ages ago, when I felt like this.
strong.
something about the way I look at myself in the mirror. putting pretty, weird, earrings into my ears, lining my eyes, smiling a little hungrily... aggressively. I talk. have whole conversations with myself, in the hurried few minutes before work. chest out, hips square. I am a vision. sometimes. I can pretend. I sure can put on a show.
still.
I remember those years ago, how simple and painful the fall was. and sometimes I wonder if/when it will come. there is something different now, though. I am not sure the fall would hurt at all. I don't think I would even feel the jolt. it used to be the pain was great, pressure in my brain, tearing through my fingers, into my skin. I used to feel every tiny thing.
now. I think I'm out of whatever that was. several things have happened here that I should have new scars for. but me, shit, I'm alright. a shocker, a miracle. something. being numb in certain places helps. I have invisible calluses, thick skin, DRIVE. people don't hurt as much. they seem to make less noise. I'm growing up and leaving so much behind. i mean... there are times when I feel guilt, still.
I've been through/done a lot of shit. pure ugly shit.
BUT. now I find I don't give so much of a shit. now, things aren't as dramatic and important. fuck. I'm not crying, unless it matters. I'm not cutting. I'm smoking like a goddammed chimney but hell, I work at a coffee shop and texas is getting crazy with it's outrageous pro life bullshit. I need that.
I just feel good. I'm making things, braids and antique jewelry covered in eggshell spray paint. roses and paper clips, dried thistles in my car. I'm painting and drawing. I am, magically, still in love. I touch my cat and she moves into my hand. slow steady recovery. the small house that I once felt stifled in is my sanctuary. these things. I need them. I meet strange people randomly. a small beautiful mexican girl makes me laugh constantly. an asian girl with sweet eyes and a loud laugh reminds me of myself when I was her age. the man who tattoed the state of texas on me is wise and crude, honest and hilarious. and he let's me have the tattoo for free, leaving me teary eyed and grateful for his voice and hand. it all feels good. at work I work forever. I work and work. I love my job.
I'm almost scared to keep going.
this is new to me.
his niece comes and paints with me sometimes, she asks me lots of questions. shes really an adult when she speaks. shes weird and artistic. perfect.I just can't wait to see what she becomes.
and him. well. he's the most perfect thing. he snores and he smells amazing. deeply intellectual. he makes me stop, and think, really think. I am patient for him, better for him. he doesnt know how much I love him. he's just the world.
i am a new person. I will not waste this. I am strong. I have the x files and a volkswagon bug. a green one, at that. for all the shit. I just want to remember how happy I am right now.
just in case.
just in case.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
alright, just calm the fuck down.
yikes, sometimes things just spin on a tiny angle.
what am i talking about, thats all the time with me. im always spinning it seems. somehow ive tricked myself into thinking the sickness is gone but maybe its just sleeping. ugh i have heartburn and a raging jealousy for something that doesnt even breathe and could never surpass. im angry. and now i have a drivers license. great. of course i want to flee and find solace. why does everyone else get to do whatever the fuck they want and i have to stay in a little white box. clean and silent. shhh. rage. yes, its there and steady. warm and familiar. the usual way i say hello to it. calmly and with strong eye contact.
the people around me never knew me then. i was anonymous for the most part, then i rolled up my sleeves and i became curious, interesting, pathetic. to different types, in different shades. what the fuck am i doing? why am i back here?
i dont even know. im off to find the time for a smoke and settle the fuck down.
what am i talking about, thats all the time with me. im always spinning it seems. somehow ive tricked myself into thinking the sickness is gone but maybe its just sleeping. ugh i have heartburn and a raging jealousy for something that doesnt even breathe and could never surpass. im angry. and now i have a drivers license. great. of course i want to flee and find solace. why does everyone else get to do whatever the fuck they want and i have to stay in a little white box. clean and silent. shhh. rage. yes, its there and steady. warm and familiar. the usual way i say hello to it. calmly and with strong eye contact.
the people around me never knew me then. i was anonymous for the most part, then i rolled up my sleeves and i became curious, interesting, pathetic. to different types, in different shades. what the fuck am i doing? why am i back here?
i dont even know. im off to find the time for a smoke and settle the fuck down.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
dream ...456.....8425545.........1
i'm not sure what inspired this one... many things. maybe the want of something familiar and comforting. i don't know.
anyway. i'm in an heb, but it's not just any heb. besides being a grocery store i know this is also a school, and it's my school. i'm standing near the makeup and the registers, lusting over eye shadows and brushes, and i get the feeling that i am with my parents, although i don't recognize the people near me. a woman and a tall man turn and talk to me, they are nice and the woman hands me white shiny beads and says come on lets get in the car. i want to walk around first, so i tell her one sec and head towards the floral section. just across from the lilies and carnations i see a glass encased classroom with chairs and a chalkboard. the back row of desks are dusty and old, some knocked over. i notice the back of the store doesn't seem to have its lights on, giving the whole place an eerie feeling... i head back up. in my head thoughts are flying, i'm thinking about a boy i'm dating, and i realize that i am in high school. i have a letter in my pocket for someone and he was supposed to meet me here but hes not here.... i look up and over the registers at the checkout are little tvs showing a gym where boys are running at each other with pads and giant q tips. i leave with my "parents". as we walk out into the dim parking lot i see its covered with ice and a slight fog. cars are speeding through the lot, slipping and screeching and i'm a little scared. my rents walk confidently ahead of me, chatting and holding hands. an image flashes in my head of a doll atop a bell tower, with blonde hair and reaching arms, near her feet, broken pieces of smaller dolls. in the image a hand comes in with a towel and begins to wipe dirt from her face and the dead doll eyes stare. i snap back to reality and now it's daylight somehow. we are still outside of this heb. my mom shows me where the doll is, pointing up and into the glare. i blink and find myself standing next to it. the doll is about 3 ft tall, hair clumping together from weather, eyes glass and deeply brown. she wears a pale yellow dress. around her feet are the pieces i saw, legs and arms, heads and bodies. but there is more- small glass dishes with crystal clear water in them spot the tiny rooftop. i want to get out. behind me is a small square exit to a spiral staircase. the stair case is small, i'm bent over most of the way down. the sunlight is coming in through small openings covered with white bars, and the whole place takes on a buttery yellow glow. i start to notice glittery objects on the ground and lean in to examine them, its jewelry, some of it is beautiful, and some of it is broken. i feel pangs of guilt as i gather it up, especially when i see a gorgeous glass rosary. i'm calling for my mom now, unsure of how to get out. i've reached the bottom and there is no door. she comes and tells me to look up, as i do a larger hole opens just above my head, and the bar melt back from the opening. i climb out into the arms of my not real parents. i'm wearing a black dress suddenly. they tell me we should go sell what we found, but i'm gripping it so tight i don't think i'll ever let it go. as we walk to the car i think of the boy who stood me up and something interjects with: i'm in high school, who cares about boys? i smile at this thought and get to the car, happy with the jewelry resting heavy in my lap.
and i wake up.
ugh typing while groggy is ... challenging.
zzzzzzzzzzzzz
anyway. i'm in an heb, but it's not just any heb. besides being a grocery store i know this is also a school, and it's my school. i'm standing near the makeup and the registers, lusting over eye shadows and brushes, and i get the feeling that i am with my parents, although i don't recognize the people near me. a woman and a tall man turn and talk to me, they are nice and the woman hands me white shiny beads and says come on lets get in the car. i want to walk around first, so i tell her one sec and head towards the floral section. just across from the lilies and carnations i see a glass encased classroom with chairs and a chalkboard. the back row of desks are dusty and old, some knocked over. i notice the back of the store doesn't seem to have its lights on, giving the whole place an eerie feeling... i head back up. in my head thoughts are flying, i'm thinking about a boy i'm dating, and i realize that i am in high school. i have a letter in my pocket for someone and he was supposed to meet me here but hes not here.... i look up and over the registers at the checkout are little tvs showing a gym where boys are running at each other with pads and giant q tips. i leave with my "parents". as we walk out into the dim parking lot i see its covered with ice and a slight fog. cars are speeding through the lot, slipping and screeching and i'm a little scared. my rents walk confidently ahead of me, chatting and holding hands. an image flashes in my head of a doll atop a bell tower, with blonde hair and reaching arms, near her feet, broken pieces of smaller dolls. in the image a hand comes in with a towel and begins to wipe dirt from her face and the dead doll eyes stare. i snap back to reality and now it's daylight somehow. we are still outside of this heb. my mom shows me where the doll is, pointing up and into the glare. i blink and find myself standing next to it. the doll is about 3 ft tall, hair clumping together from weather, eyes glass and deeply brown. she wears a pale yellow dress. around her feet are the pieces i saw, legs and arms, heads and bodies. but there is more- small glass dishes with crystal clear water in them spot the tiny rooftop. i want to get out. behind me is a small square exit to a spiral staircase. the stair case is small, i'm bent over most of the way down. the sunlight is coming in through small openings covered with white bars, and the whole place takes on a buttery yellow glow. i start to notice glittery objects on the ground and lean in to examine them, its jewelry, some of it is beautiful, and some of it is broken. i feel pangs of guilt as i gather it up, especially when i see a gorgeous glass rosary. i'm calling for my mom now, unsure of how to get out. i've reached the bottom and there is no door. she comes and tells me to look up, as i do a larger hole opens just above my head, and the bar melt back from the opening. i climb out into the arms of my not real parents. i'm wearing a black dress suddenly. they tell me we should go sell what we found, but i'm gripping it so tight i don't think i'll ever let it go. as we walk to the car i think of the boy who stood me up and something interjects with: i'm in high school, who cares about boys? i smile at this thought and get to the car, happy with the jewelry resting heavy in my lap.
and i wake up.
ugh typing while groggy is ... challenging.
zzzzzzzzzzzzz
Thursday, January 19, 2012
dream (waking up and running to the com)
Im working at some dimly lit, maroon themed restaurant/bar. Ive been here a while, and im familiar with most of my co workers. i get the sense, like that dream sort of feeling, that i am in a gang. i have more tats and my hair is deep red. we are bustling around and a show begins in the dining room... lights and music and two people hanging from hooks from the ceiling. a couple, they work here, and they are in love. they hang from hooks in their backs, suspension. swinging from their ropes, they seem to dance in air. i cant stop staring. they call for another, someone to help them complete a trick and i step forward, but am brushed aside by a statuesque, gorgeous woman who smells amazing. her black hair is pushed back from her white face and she wears a skintight black dress. she laughs as they push the hooks into her and she almost jumps into the pain. in my head a small bio plays, that she doesn't feel it, she loves to hang and shes as tough inside as out. i move on with my work.
it gets fuzzy.
the restaurant is closed now, but all of us workers are inside. we walk around and talk, and a tall black boy meets me in the hallway and starts telling me about our rivals. he says that we should be careful, that they can sneak n and hurt us and we have to be prepared. the government should have never taken our ability to teleport (i know, but it was a dead serious conversation in my dream) i agree, and we grasp hands, he says the others, they are planning something. and i tell him to stay alert. im tired and i need to go to the bathroom so i duck into the nearest one. i try to flip the switch but nothing happens, but i shrug it off and think there is enough light coming in through the bottom of the door. in the dark bathroom i begin to lay out glowing beads around the sink and quarters from my pocket when i get a very strange feeling. i look up into the mirror to see the closet door behind me appear to open, i can barely tell in the sparse light... but it is! so i turn just as a man jumps from the closet, but he doesn't know who i am and he gets a punch in the nose as i react to the shock, he falls against the bathtub and i start to pummel him, screaming for help. the door is bashed in and he is pulled into the hallway and i am pulled to my feet.people are yelling, there is blood on my knuckles. now there are representatives from the other gang somehow, its all happening so fast but there is an argument and somehow no one believes me that i was attacked in the bathroom. im shock. i grab my purse and phone and run out into the night.
fuzz... and in it i am texting someone, it feels like i met him in my dreams, i am deeply in love with him, but not so much in a romantic way, i dont know very hard to describe this. but i barely know his face, but i definitely know his words.
im approaching a warehouse (my favorite theme) and i need to be reminded that i can be happy...
he used to stay here. he is a collector and he used to bring his things here. he always used to tell me that i should go and pick a few things out that he always thinks of me when he gets them. i wander up a maze of stairs to the top open floor. its massive and it gives me that tingly feeling in my stomach, butterflies and nervousness. there are rows and rows of stuff, organized strangely. i walk by a row of mattresses with stuffed animals sitting on the edge with their heads wrapped in barb wire strung like a clothes line from one bed post to another. clothes and shoes, and trinkets. lamps shaped like women and elephants, but so realistic and correct i have to blush. he's left me pictures, of me that he took at one time, Photoshopped with wings and soft edges, and i am looking away from the camera in all of them. the captions tell me that he sees me in a clear strong light. i feel like im floating. as i walk through the warehouse it starts to change around me.
i start seeing people in the distance down some of the aisles and the racks morph into something more professional. a worker walks by and i realize the collection area is becoming an actual store right before my eyes. i start shopping and find a few things. hes texting me, leading me on hunts to find things that he has picked just for me, and i find some of the most beautiful clothes ever. they all fit perfect. soon enough i look down at the phone ad it just says
wake up.
so i do.
aaaaaahhhhhh that felt good.
zzzzzzZzzzz
it gets fuzzy.
the restaurant is closed now, but all of us workers are inside. we walk around and talk, and a tall black boy meets me in the hallway and starts telling me about our rivals. he says that we should be careful, that they can sneak n and hurt us and we have to be prepared. the government should have never taken our ability to teleport (i know, but it was a dead serious conversation in my dream) i agree, and we grasp hands, he says the others, they are planning something. and i tell him to stay alert. im tired and i need to go to the bathroom so i duck into the nearest one. i try to flip the switch but nothing happens, but i shrug it off and think there is enough light coming in through the bottom of the door. in the dark bathroom i begin to lay out glowing beads around the sink and quarters from my pocket when i get a very strange feeling. i look up into the mirror to see the closet door behind me appear to open, i can barely tell in the sparse light... but it is! so i turn just as a man jumps from the closet, but he doesn't know who i am and he gets a punch in the nose as i react to the shock, he falls against the bathtub and i start to pummel him, screaming for help. the door is bashed in and he is pulled into the hallway and i am pulled to my feet.people are yelling, there is blood on my knuckles. now there are representatives from the other gang somehow, its all happening so fast but there is an argument and somehow no one believes me that i was attacked in the bathroom. im shock. i grab my purse and phone and run out into the night.
fuzz... and in it i am texting someone, it feels like i met him in my dreams, i am deeply in love with him, but not so much in a romantic way, i dont know very hard to describe this. but i barely know his face, but i definitely know his words.
im approaching a warehouse (my favorite theme) and i need to be reminded that i can be happy...
he used to stay here. he is a collector and he used to bring his things here. he always used to tell me that i should go and pick a few things out that he always thinks of me when he gets them. i wander up a maze of stairs to the top open floor. its massive and it gives me that tingly feeling in my stomach, butterflies and nervousness. there are rows and rows of stuff, organized strangely. i walk by a row of mattresses with stuffed animals sitting on the edge with their heads wrapped in barb wire strung like a clothes line from one bed post to another. clothes and shoes, and trinkets. lamps shaped like women and elephants, but so realistic and correct i have to blush. he's left me pictures, of me that he took at one time, Photoshopped with wings and soft edges, and i am looking away from the camera in all of them. the captions tell me that he sees me in a clear strong light. i feel like im floating. as i walk through the warehouse it starts to change around me.
i start seeing people in the distance down some of the aisles and the racks morph into something more professional. a worker walks by and i realize the collection area is becoming an actual store right before my eyes. i start shopping and find a few things. hes texting me, leading me on hunts to find things that he has picked just for me, and i find some of the most beautiful clothes ever. they all fit perfect. soon enough i look down at the phone ad it just says
wake up.
so i do.
aaaaaahhhhhh that felt good.
zzzzzzZzzzz
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
