Me too.

The ending happens suddenly

Awakened from the blackout

He leaves and you are left—

Wondering, blaming, maybe even waiting

And him?

Still drunk off the night’s conquest

High fived from his boys for tapping that mess

Surrounded by crowds

While you’re left all alone

Looks of pity or a solid scold

He won.

It’s done.

There’s no use in speaking.

He will move on.

There will be another beginning.

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Drowning

I feel as if I’m drowning in a sea of needs. I am needed here and over there and right now and then. I am needed by you, by them, by us and by me. I need to do this and that and more or less.

The sea is endless and I’m hopelessly drowning in it, only to see the water is rising by the rain of a storm up ahead. A storm of my own making, but if I give in, if I just let the sea take me, I start to witness it mellow out. The storm starts to clear and the waves aren’t as harsh and my arms aren’t as weak.

I can keep trying to swim my way out of this mess, but this mess is my life. In my life I am needed, by clients and friends and family and myself and even though it is overwhelming…I’d rather it be that than the contrary, which is underwhelmed.

The drowning is what makes us stronger. The harsh impact of waves gusting by us, causing water to fill our noses and hit our face is what reminds us we are alive in the first place. As relaxing as it is to take a break, to give into the waves and float for a while, it’s also necessary to fight back.

You tread water, make your way through the storm instead of finding a way to end it, so that when the next one passes you’re much more prepared. I will fight through this. If not for myself, then for those who need me. I’ll make it passed the storm and safely float my way until the next one hits.

 

Unedited

I have a difficult time editing anything I write. It’s probably why I’ll never become a popular writer. My words are always meant for me and only me to fully understand. It’s because when I read them, my mind captures the moments I’m trying to create. I already have everything outlined and detailed in my head so that I don’t necessarily have to do it as I write everything down in front of me.

When words and stories are edited, they become generalized. They become conformed to be accepted and understood by the public. I guess I’ve always been kind of a rebel. You can look at my collection of felonies and misdemeanors. I don’t follow the trends all too well. When someone tells me what to do and how to do it and I’ll achieve great things by following these steps, I’ll take like 10 steps back. Then I’ll do some twists and turns until I wind up in a completely different place and a loss of memory as to what I was trying to accomplish in the first place.

I’ve been trying to write a book. Well, 3 actually. I’ve been trying to write a book for years now and only recently have I seen any kind of chance for one to be completed. It makes me nervous. Like, what am I going to do to stray off course this time?

It’s already proving to be difficult. Going back to a story that reminds you of all the things you have left behind…That is what writers do. They relive all of their moment. Again and again and again. With those moments comes all of those feelings–the anxiety and pain and love and desire. I’ve already managed to get it down on paper once, editing only makes it that much more difficult. I don’t want to feel it all over again.

Change of heart

I can’t even write about you. That’s when you know it’s bad. When the story I’ve been working on for years, suddenly seems like trash because it’s written about you.

You and your inconsiderate heart, me and my vulnerable soul.

That’s what this story seems to be about.

But, I can’t keep playing the victim. I chose to be broken by you. I searched for someone like you, to release all of the demons I had hiding so deeply within me.

So, I feel like this story may have changed its purpose in my life. No longer am I romanticizing you and our crazy, reckless, inconsistent love. It is a story of a girl and boy who broke each other and could never be the same again.

Please don’t be a season

Please don’t be a season.

Don’t be a fallen leaf in Autumn that slowly dies as it hits the pavement.

Don’t be the touch of snow on skin that quickly melts away in Winter.

Don’t be the rainbow after rain, hiding behind clouds of grey in Spring.

Don’t be warm beach days, fresh green grass and bright sunny rays that pass by as quickly as time does in the Summer.

You’re not allowed to come in and out of my life like the weather.

I want you for years to come.

I want you like the comfort of sitting down after every long day, knowing it’s a luxury whether on the floor or a coushioned chair.

I want you like the tattoo on the bottom of my neck, wearing out from too much sun exposure, but always holding meaning within my skin.

I want you like the memories written in books passed down for generations– causing stories to be diluted, but still partaking in history.

I want you like all of my body, maybe growing weaker as I get older, but always remaining, always trying, still working after so much vulnerability.

You are not just a season to me, you are a year. A year full of life, memories, sunshine, rainy days, snow fall and golden brown leaves on the ground.

Please don’t just be another season.

Selfish

You can’t be happy for me. It’s called being selfish. You miss me in your life only because you’re lonely, only because it has changed for the worst for you. I’m happy. Understand I’ve made the right decision for me and if you did the same to me then I would understand. Some people don’t help us grow. Some people damage us when we try to hold onto them. My grip was so tightly wrapped around you and you had no idea. You didn’t feel me. You didn’t even fucking notice. It wasn’t until I let go when you felt some kind of loss. You took advantage of my love and the worst thing is you didn’t even know it. At least if you knew the extent at which I tried, it would’ve been easier. You didn’t even know, because you didn’t even care. And now you look at me, anger filling your light blue eyes. I hope you know I’m used to that face. Filled with anger when you see me. I’m used to disappointing you and pissing you off because your emotions were so easily angered. It’s called being selfish. Because when I don’t care to your needs, you get pissed off. You challenged our friendship so often because you didn’t fucking care. You hurt me without knowing and maybe that’s my own fault, but I thought I made it obvious. I thought all the times I stood by you for hours watching you mix, or being the only one to dance at your shows, or convincing your girlfriend to stay, or trying my hardest to hold back my true feelings would make it obvious. It may be my own fault, but it doesn’t mean I have to stay and continue to deal with those consequences. You’re hurt because I left. You’re hurt because I couldn’t be in a friendship where only I tried and you gave no shits. I’m sorry for saving my energy. I’m sorry for saving my time. I’m sorry for finally putting myself over you. I should’ve never pretended like I was okay. I should’ve never acted like I wasn’t suffering. I was. Now you know and you’re mad. Fuck you. I didn’t mean shit to you. Stop acting like I did.

Shane

You’ve shown me what I’ve been missing. So I’m sorry for the sudden attachment. I’m taking advantage of all the good feelings you give me. 

I’ve kept my heart closed for sometime and didn’t realize this until I started getting close to you. Not that you opened it. You didn’t pry. You didn’t take a wrench and screw with me until I gave in. You’ve been unlike the others. 

You waited. Sat patiently until I slowly tip toed over to you with curiosity. Until I reached out and touched you with my fingertips, only then did you do the same. You waited until I touched first, until I kissed first, until I opened up first. You made me feel like I could first.

I think that’s what made it so easy. You let me know beforehand that there wasn’t going to be any hurt. You proved you were someone I could open up to without being shut back closed. 

I’ve been hurt before and you make me forget that. I’ve been broken before and you make me feel repaired.

I don’t love easy. I’ve refused to. I’ve relied on myself and committed to being alone so that others couldn’t take advantage again. 

I don’t love easy. I don’t give myself easy. I don’t spend a majority of my time thinking about another person because I know what it leads to.

I don’t love easy. Why are you making it so fucking easy?