Monthly Archives: April 2014

If there’s a will, there’s a way.

I need to will myself out of here. There’s an ache inside of me; it immobilizes me. I want to just crawl into bed and feel safe and warm. Maybe I can pretend that the truth isn’t waiting out there for me. Maybe I can fool myself into believing that you still love me. You’ve made me feel small but I need to rise up and be bigger than all this. I will not allow you to keep pushing me back down.

Run, run, run.


Hello darkness.

The thing that is killing me the most is your indifference. I would rather be hated by you than face your total apathy.
Shakespeare once said, “Love me or hate me, both are in my favour… If you love me, I will always be in your heart… If you hate me, I will always be in your mind.”
But there you are, sitting across from me smiling and making jokes and then as soon as I say something even remotely sentimental you look away like you can’t hear me.
Your indifference is killing me.


I don’t always feel like I’m going to be okay, but at the end of the day I can lay in bed and say to myself that I made it again. I made it through a day when I wasn’t sure if I would or could. There is no certainty in this world; I could be gone tomorrow and so could you. It’s inevitable. So that simple feeling of exhaling in this life is enough, it’s more than enough, even when it’s bad, this is my life. Breathe it in.

Sort of.

This song, literally makes me cry. It is just exactly everything I’ve been feeling; I am feeling.

“Baby you’ve got the sort of hands to rip me apart
And baby you’ve got the sort of face to start this old heart
But your eyes are warning me this early morning
That my love’s too big for you my love

Baby you’ve got the sort of laugh that waters me
And makes me grow tall and strong and proud and flattens me
I find you stunning, but you are running me down
My love’s too big for you my love
My love’s too big for you my love

And if I was stronger then I would tell you no
And if I was stronger then I will leave this show
And if I was stronger then I would up and go
But here I am and here we go again

Baby you’ve got the sort of eyes that tell me tales
That your sort of mouth just will not say, the truth impales
That you don’t need me, but you won’t leave me
My love’s too big for you my love
My love’s too big for you my love

And if I was stronger then I would tell you no
And if I was stronger then I will leave this show
And if I was stronger then I would up and go
But here I am and here we go again

Tell me what to do to take away the you?

And if I was stronger then I would tell you no.
And if I was stronger then I will leave this show
And if I was stronger then I would up and go
But here I am and here we go again”

A little romance.

I read these little postings of longing for romance, falling asleep in each other’s arms and waking up knowing you can spend the whole day in bed together and that will be okay. I’ve had these things.

I want to respond to these postings and tell them that the love fades, things take over and suddenly laying in bed together all day isn’t okay anymore. You don’t know why, you wish it were, but there’s a vacancy next to you when you wake up in the morning, even if their arms are still wrapped around you. I want to warn them that life isn’t always sweet like that, the world will eventually seep into your love and things will change.

And then I wonder, the smallest tinge of hope filling my pessimistic heart, maybe it doesn’t have to be that way. Maybe I can find someone one day who will forever want to spend lazy Sundays in bed with me and will always ask me what’s wrong when I start to cry, even if they know it’s nothing. Maybe one day someone will love me so much that they will never stop trying to make me happy, even when it seems impossible. Maybe one day, I’ll find that true love that I so deeply believe I deserve.

Maybe one day.

What Hurts the Most.

When I was with him I missed you. It’s ironic really. Because I was trying so hard to move forward and the very moment I did, I was the furthest from not loving you than I’ve ever been.

His hands on my skin were nice, it was all nice. But all I could think of was the way our bodies fit together. The way I would snuggle into you and you’d rest your hand on my hip. You know what I like and want, you’re familiar. Our fit was perfect, his was fine. I wished I could’ve fit with him. He was asking me if I was okay and kissing my neck and rubbing my shoulders. You were at a party getting drunk, forgetting about me, if you hadn’t already. Even before that, before that, months ago, your body was turned away from me and you ignored my heaved sighs and quiet tears, you were already slipping away from me.

What hurts the most is that I let you still hurt me, that after all this time I am still so destroyed by loosing you and by the reality that things will likely never be the same again. You’re gone. Even though you’re right here.

The Summary of All Things.

Sometimes it just feels like the end. Where do we go from here? These scattered fragments of our humanness, they’re the pieces of a once brilliant something: possibility. How can I have the answers to the questions that are not fully formed in my mind? “What do I want?” seems too vague and overused. If I had the answers I wouldn’t have the questions.

It’s hard to move forward when there is no forward to go. A brick wall. Do I climb or do I wait?

I don’t know how to get out of this place. Trapped. Trapped by indecision. I’ve been here before. Maybe I’ve never really left this place.


So what does it mean to be stuck and stationary? Will my life be lived like this entirely? I am terrified to move forward; out there waits a big dark unknown. But there’s no where to go back to, and here is hardly a place at all.
To sum up- I’m stuck. And maybe it’s easier to deny it and blame it on the big bad man who hurt me, but I’ve only got myself to blame now. No one stopping me from getting up and moving forward; only me.

City Sidewalks.

I have spent the last several months in an absolute state of uncertainty. My stomach rests in knots on the best of days. The only time I feel a sense of control is walking. I allow myself to sink into the tap tapping of my feet on the pavement, the surety of the concrete under my heels, toes, heel, toe. I feel like I’m gliding, the ground as my guide, my body a mere vessel for the journey this city is going to take me on.

Where will it take me next?

Wondering About Wandering.

I am a student of the world. I imagine learning that phrase in Italian and being able to say it to someone when I go there. And they’ll smile and understand, think I’m deep and thoughtful. I imagine lots of things. It seems to be my only solace lately from the drudgery of “getting through”. Because getting through is hardly the mystical, self-discovering time people make it sound like, it’s really just slugging through the shit trying to survive. If you’re lucky you’ll survive.

I imagine eating pasta every meal and drinking wine all the time. I imagine getting freckled on a Greek beach. I imagine skinny dipping in Spain and getting lost on the Irish countryside (Yes, I want to happen across a handsome Irishmen in the style of PS, I love you, minus the whole brain tumor ending). I want to drink in the world and let it fill me up with the life I have been missing for years.

Maybe I’ll never come back.

Sono uno studente del mondo.