Today's Realization

I don't know how to reblog things.
I have no idea how tumblr works( don't even start on setting a page up for myself)
I don't know how to sew a simple stitch
I can't make my "cat eyes" even
I get nervous in places...all places
I forget how to eat when said anxiety sets in
I get very strong urges to cut myself that come out of nowhere and not very often
I'm terrible at math
I bite my nails
I never have matching socks on
I lose all my bobby pins in a matter of days
I have unruly hair
I hate exercise and I'd rather sleep
I prefer to eat everything with my hands
I don't like shoes
I get really sad for no reason and for some reasons
I eat when I'm not hungry
I shop when I don't need anything
I have no money
I spend money that I don't have
Sometimes I miss people I shouldn't and I don't miss people that I should
I get angry
I can't sit still for very long
I don't like watching other people sleep
I never return Redbox DVD's on time. Never.

I'm up and down.
Sort of a child on a tire-swing waiting to be let down by the "pusher".

...

...but you don't give much back do you?
I would crunch my bones to be next to you in the middle of the night with stacks of papers and cups of coffee. I would sit, heavy-eyed, lose precious comatose, and watch you with such grace, but you're too busy freezing yourself in a tub of ice.

I like to pretend that I don't give a shit, but my stomach lurches and hops as the minutes go by and you don't call back. You said. You said you'd call, I'm waiting, call me, why won't you call back? Don't you know I'm a child waiting for Santa to come down the chimney? when really it turns out to be the tooth fairy and he rips out my molar with numb force. Please.

It's for you really, I decorate my arm with a precious red scrape. It's pretty this time. Long, rose red, it crosses the healing scars from before. You should see it. I did it to pop the balloon, to release the pressurized air beneath my skin that was formed by my swollen heart. You have a way of throwing blows at me without leaving a bruise....so I do it for you. I leave your mark since you're too sorry to do it yourself. I leave your mark because I feel like I love way too much, like I go way too far to make such a spoiled man. I feel like you don't give back much, but who wrote your paper on racism for Afro-American class? Who ordered expensive food the day you were stuck in doing chores? Who did those things? Who is bleeding now?

But really, I love you. I just don't know how much I believe you lately.

Today we lay on the rocks in the harbor. Scratchy sand fleas hopped from rock to rock and crittered along the soft inside of my arm. I was with you, on our backs against a sun-warmed rock. So close to the water, so close to the birds and the wind and each other. This was a moment of time where I only loved you. Nothing else. I fell asleep on your chest as we lay down there at the bottom of the harbor. A place where usually only squirrels and vermin ventured, but we were there. We were the most beautiful vermin on the rocks. I slept on you. I felt the serenity of everything that was calm and harmless. I asked you burning yet unimportant questions and you followed after with yours.

 "Have you ever thought about me dieing?"
"Have you thought about having kids?"
"Have you ever been mad at me beyond words?"
"Did you want to have sex with your prom date?"

Those types.

We became part of the grass, the rocks, the water, the sea, and you kissed my red stained lips. I am your warmest responsibility and we were so perfect in that moment.
What do I do with you?

Acid

I can be hateful towards you and I can love you at the same time. Cliche, but also a mixture of acidic bubbles that tear into my innards and draw me closer to you. Sometimes I feel absolutely numb, I feel sick to my charred core and then the heat of your chest and the chill in my feet make me want to stay within the warmth of your heart. I've come to re-assume the fetal position. Sometimes it's to hold myself together, sometimes it's because I fear that standing up would dump me into the ground and you'll be left with a fleshy carpet.
Sometimes I don't want you to touch me. Your very contact makes me crawl and suddenly I see you there, my hand tracing your jaw and I want nothing more. I want nothing more than to be some dark spot in the corner of your mind. The car accident you can't look away from.
Once, you made the anger spill up until I opened my car door while we were in a tunnel. In that moment, I wanted to run away from the light at the end so you wouldn't be able to find me. What I really find is that I'm always angry. I'm always broken in a way that makes my hinges squeak and makes me want to push you away. God, sometimes. Sometimes you bug the shit out of me and most of the time I crave you in the middle of the night.
Today you kissed me long and hard like i'd be going away for a very long time. You kissed me and as I write this, my heart aches and I wonder if I take advantage of our love. If it were to be cast out of our live, minds, etc... would I be any different?
I just want to get away with you and open my door in that tunnel, but this time, take your large hand in mine and run. Please understand that I am confused in this. I am so in love with hating you and I hate that I love you so much.
Somehow though, my love becomes those acidic bubbles and burns through the hate so all that is left is a beautiful and perfectly constructed light.

Edge Wedge

I forced it. I wedged myself into some small place in such a way that I became a piece of it. Bystanders would have passed by without a hint of curiosity as to what I was. I locked up. I found a comfortable place and curled up there for hours on end until my body could no longer stand to be at rest. It heated up to wake me and I felt fire. I felt clammy warmth that spilled over into my bones and filled my head with boiled blood. All day I wondered why I was loved. I wondered how to be better, how to prune a bonsai tree, how to get away without any cents.
I drank blood red water that filled my body and replaced what I had let leak out in moments of weakness and darkness.
We said it at the same time...in whispers. I held it in hands of steel and clenched my teeth to bite down on the feeling. In the core of my very being I was so sure of a future encrusted in gold. I was so grateful for the feeling of being on top of you in a warm place. I hold you so close and you don't even know it. You don't get it my love. My love made of a tangible mold. You'll never understand how it feels to say the same words so methodically that they come out cracked and dry. I'm fine. It's fine. Don't worry. It's okay. I'm okay.
I'm a piece of work and you are a piece of my many pieces. So broken and so fragmented that putting me back together would be a project of grand proportions. So what's the point? Why do you love me?

I didn't understand it.
The motions that it would take to sink so far, so ankle-deep, that it'd be impossible to fall.
I tried, doe-eyed in bed to understand with my eyes. To see through something fleshy and beautiful, but I couldn't and the afternoon burned away without waiting for me.
I still tried to understand the new level you had reached, the realization...what it must feel like to be hit by a feeling as heavy as a brick or a sack of flour.
It seemed like as my cuts healed and turned to roseate etches, I was finding new things to love. Not healed, no, not reveling in a new self image or sense of structure...just discovering.
I think it hit me as I watched us in the mirror, readying ourselves for the day. You, washing your face in your hands, and me with a toothbrush sticking sideways out of my mouth.
I realized it; how my head always seems to know how to sit on your chest. How, I can curl into your shape and feel like the world can wait. It can just wait, and nothing bad will ever happen here, right here.
I think I started knowing while wearing your over-sized plaid shirt to bed. Wearing it, taking it off, letting it hang off of me. Vulnerable. Waking up in it loose around my bare body and you, looking at me in mid-morning light through tired lids. Those lids. So tired, so over-worked, but willing to stay open, to hold my gaze no matter what.
There are things I was waiting to understand, things I knew I understood, and things I never wanted to.
And then it hit me.
Magic.

Living Lindora

I'm going to be starting on the Lindora weight management plan as of Monday of next week
found here. This week is full of gearing up to the big race...a.k.a. putting myself on a twenty week program for my better body. I have blood tests, educational class, physician meetings, and weigh ins. I'm excited in a nervous kind of way. I get Vitamin B shots once a week and a monthly booster as part of the program which also came with food products, a book, and a food/exercise journal which I have to bring in every week for my physician to examine. I think this will be good for me. My house has turned into the Lindora house. My mother and sister are following the book's guidelines, but I'm the only one enrolled in the full program (which is quite pricey if you want to know in advance and are interested). I have the full support of my family and my boyfriend who is ecstatic to see me improve myself to the confident me he knows exists. I'm really excited to have a legitimate plan ahead of me and one that involves many other people who will keep me going. I may be posting meals and keeping track of calories here for this week because I want to try and lose what I can this week before I start on their program. Just a kicker before the real show begins.
LAdieu.

"I wish I was strong enough to lift not one, but both of us.
Someday, I will be strong to lift not one, but both of us."

Fix

In some small way it eats at me. Little things with big potential, tiny marks that crease themselves into my soft brain and into the pale parts of my skin. It's a hatred for hating, and a disturbing inability to snap out of it and tell people what's wrong. I don't know what's wrong. I'd like to pay someone else to tell me so that I won't have to work so hard to pretend to care. Sometimes I get instantly pissed off for things that should be silly and make me laugh. I turn my back and squint my eyes shut just so you won't bother me. I hate that I get so upset, but i can't help it. I can't exhaust myself with the same explanations, words, "I'm fine"s, and quiet lip biting. I just want you to see sometimes. To see and to fix things , not to just see. I want a fix. I want a fix like a fucking cigarette and a bottle of rum. I want to be let out of the car and go home or I want you between my legs with passionate vengeance. I don't want to go out all the time anymore. That's something I used to do throughout high school, it's just not that way anymore. Sometimes I just want to sit in silence and think about things. Then again, once I get out I feel a lot better about things so I guess it's a matter or laziness now. I don't like that sometimes I hurt myself just to make myself feel something that is real and not the typical drone and drag of a long day with a million apologies from you and nothing to do. I hate that I try so hard to be happy and that it's way too easy for me to be sad about nothing in particular. Sometimes I have a really nice day, like today, and then things crash so quickly that my brain cells suffocate themselves just to shut out the ensuing pain. Sometimes all I want is you, you, you, and you. And sometimes I just want to pick up something with an edge and cut into myself like a ripe peach. I go in and out so quickly and rely heavily on the good things to pull me out with a desperate grasp out of the slump that is my darkening mind. I love you to the ends of my hair and the tips of my toes, but sometimes I can't explain and I just need you to fix it for me.

Cut.

A terrible quake shook her bones.
The room spun with colors in a spider web of stick and rot. She was utterly lost in it.
Methodical
Obsessive
Effortless
Numb
Things were turning red, turning into long dark lines across her skin.
Uneven, she apologized for not doing a neater job. They were scattered, just all over.
No more room really.
Sorry.
When the spins stopped she looked at her work of art, a scratched and striped canvas on olive skin
Let no one in.
It all happened so fast.
She began to obsess, to stare, to not care, to want to feel the sting of reality upon her wrist, upon her legs, hip bone, and the soft of her stomach.
Why?
There are no reasons, but then there are too many to find words for. Too many to care to explain to those who would simply think of her as a child .
The breakdown.
Mother has instructed her to cover up with silver and beaded bracelets.

Phone Affair

Last night I couldn't sleep for three reasons: I drank water right before bed causing me to have to pee constantly, I have a chest cough which had me hacking throughout the night, and I was waiting for a text message that never came. I slept next to my phone and watched the hours go by, by, by, nothing yet. Maybe by the time I return from the bathroom? non. I was waiting for my usual goodnight from him, but because I had left his house that night slightly annoyed, that text never came. I kept having brief and fleeting dreams, or scenes, in which my head deceived me, leading me to believe that he was laying next to me in bed. I would turn on my side to face him and he would disappear. I would stretch my arm out to feel him, but he was air. That's a disappointing feeling, and so it kept me up. I kept thinking it's not that late: 3am is not that late he could still... I think it's a  bit obsessive. Bathroom break. I cough for a few minutes. Finally as dawn approached, I fell into a comatose like sleep only to be awoken an hour later by my alarm. Do you see what you do to me? Now I've slept all day.

Like This:

I want to keep it like this: I sit next to you at the bar, my hand with a mind of its own, traces lightly around the sleeve of your shirt. I'm looking at you even when I don't know that I am. It's become something of a talent of mine: to see you and to not think too much about it, but at the same time I think so much about you. I like the looks I give you as I drink my shake and I like how you justify your silliness in the most ridiculous manner. I like your pride and I like that your hand finds the smoothest parts of my body and warmly glides over them. I like the way you talk about babies and how I'm your different kind of baby. Yours. I like that you want to be involved with the people in my life even when I don't make them readily available to you. I like how you make conversation with strangers and act interested in things that aren't interesting. Actually, I don't think you're acting, I think you actually are interested.

You Are to Her

In that moment the world tasted sweeter.
The sun licked her skin and left it glistening in the heat.
She turned back down the hot street towards his voice; following it on the phone.
Like a child, she craned her neck around every bend searching, looking, waiting with giddy excitement.
The garden was straight ahead and she looked for him there before the wind turned her around with its gentle grip and she saw him.
He ran awkwardly towards her with the sun on a green stem.
Everything was like new.
He wore her favorite shirt, her favorite smile, and held her favorite flower.
You are my favorite favorite thing. She thought.

Fall Break

Something in his eyes was broken. I had once again asked for more from him, really, I'm just looking for reciprocation. I just want someone to run with me. Run free and careless. So what if we have class tomorrow! That's tomorrow. What if an asteroid smashes into Earth and we had cut our time short together to be prepped for class tomorrow. What if a tsunami swallowed this city and we were in bed, away from each other, and all we had done prior to that was sit and watch T.V.?? I need adventure. I didn't mean to break him. I didn't mean to make him so upset that the very earth he stands on turned to jello shots and caramel. All I wanted was to clear my mind and to say things that would help us to move forward. Sometimes it's a little exhausting to love another person because you become so wrapped up and so sensitive to everything they do that you begin to break a little. I don't want to take a break from you, but I do. I want you around, but I don't want to see you right now. I love you to death, but you make me feel small sometimes. You make me want to put this ring on my left finger, in fact, you promised that, but I twist it  until a red ring appears. Something in my stomach aches for you and something in my brain wants nothing to do with you for a couple days. Taking a break is exhausting. I told you all the things I want to do while we're a young couple in our first few months. I told you that. I want you to do those things not for me, but with me. I want to be happier than I have been, and that 's pretty happy. I've been content, but I feel us getting stuck in molasses. I love you. Don't take a break.

Before

My fear of being in a relationship, was always in that I wasn't comfortable with the idea of "belonging" to someone else. I didn't want to be responsible for having to care about another person just because we had sex or because that's what a relationship required by social standards. I always wanted a man, not a boy, someone that would understand my walls and why I had built them instead of focusing on tearing them down and being the Greek hero he had always fantasized of being. I didn't feel comfortable with the notion of having labels. You are my ________ and I am your ___________. I didn't want to become dependent on someone because my emotions and feelings were stronger than I was. It's nature taking over, and that scared me.
Within the two months that I've been with my boyfriend, I've come full circle and have watched myself change my ideals about relationships. Biased much? But really, I asked him yesterday to get me something...a ring, to solidify the notion that I belong to him. I used that word, "belonged", which used to feel like acid on my tongue. I didn't care how expensive, shiny, glitzy, or big it was, I just wanted something to have to reassure myself that this happiness does exist. Sort of like in "Inception", how each character who delves into the other side has their piece, something to keep them grounded in reality. That's what I wanted. I find myself thinking ahead about a future and saying "we" a lot instead of singular pronouns. I think about having kids a lot. (DISCLAIMER: I will not be having a baby anytime soon) But, I do think about it...in the future. I used to NEVER want kids. I mean, I was adamant about it. I didn't used to like them. I now find myself being suckered into their cute little worlds every time I see one at a restaurant, bookstore, cafe, etc..
I think about what we'll do on holidays (his family or mine?) I think about wanting to make him happy and I get angry when he doesn't live up to his own expectations. All I want is to belong. To have the freedom to be myself, yet, to belong to him. I want him to make me feel safe, secure, and wanted as much as possible. I want to know he'll be there and I want to make him happy. I want other people to know I'm "taken" and I want him to feel the same way. Today, as we walked around downtown at an art fair, we wandered into a beachy shop and together we picked out a ring for me to wear. Not at all expensive, but a simple surgical steel ring with a "diamond" in the center. It's just right. I'm just right. Everything is just right.

Blood

www.thefancy.com

I was watching the love of my life, sunken into another man's skin suit, fuck another dark haired woman. It was him, but I didn't recognize the fleshy facade he had pulled on over his body. He made love to me and then merely tossed me aside to make way for the other olive-skinned brunette. She had long luscious hair and stretched out naked on the floor with the devil in her eye. I hated again. I tried to stop it from happening by displaying my discomfort and distraught across my face. They kept fucking and so I found myself in a hallway heading towards the bathroom where I locked myself. There was plastic on the floor and I began to bleed all over it. I bled freely and painlessly, I bled chunks and pure streams of my warm claret which ran down my legs. I wrapped it up in the plastic and left it on the floor to fester within itself. Suddenly a bright blue square slammed into my vision and shook me awake. It felt real. I felt like the square had made enough noise to wake him up. He was still sound asleep, his bare back to me, and I wanted arms to secure me and to stop the dream-world bleeding.

I forced my eyelids shut again and waited to drift away, hoping this time that my love would remain faithful and that my happy vital fluids would remain skin deep. 

Long Dress

She stood at his door in a floor-length dress, nervous of what he'd think. 

They had nowhere to go, but it made her feel pretty.

He peeked out the window where the cat was laying in the sunlight.

"Who's that?"

She  smiled and he came around to the front door. 

"Wow."

His eyes swept over her making her feel slightly insecure.

"What?" she asked.

He gently pulled her inside the house and into his arms.

They kissed.

"You look beautiful"

And all the world went bright. 

We stood in the street.

We were at a stoplight and I was kissing him hard. 

I wanted to feel flesh against flesh and remember why. 

We drove 100mph on the freeway to rid his car of moisture from the gas station car-wash. 

A bridge.

Haven't we all wanted to jump?

Tell me secrets and I'll cradle your head in my hands and understand. 

My eyes watered and so did yours. 

What timing! When did you decide that you realized that I needed you just as eagerly?

How'd you know?

I would have grasped on tight and pulled you back like some hungry moth seeking out the light.

We were in your parked car then.

Our bodies, leaning against one another heated the windows so that we could finger paint our love. 

"I love you"

somehow you were thinking of marriage and all I want is a blade of grass knotted around my finger. 

I would so.

More pictures and I told you what it was like to not be wanted by the man of my own creation.

Then I cried softly and so did you,

for you could not imagine a life where nobody would ever want you.

"You are a beautiful human being"

Your whispers made his absence numb. 

"You didn't deserve that"

And both our tears fell.

I am so deeply in love and would like the blade of grass.

Write it on the window and kiss me goodnight. 

I Want You to Know...

I want you to know that i love you because of the way you cup my face in your large hands when you kiss me. I want you to know that i love you because you make me laugh even when i'm mad at you and because you have the ability to turn my day around with a single text message or call. I want you to know that i love you because you're always concerned about me even when everything is fine. I want you to know that i love you because you get excited and inspired by things that matter to me. I want you to know that i love you because you hold me in your arms whenever i look like i need a hug. I want you to know that i love you because you hold my hand while you drive. I want you to know that i love you because i love ou and i want to remember why i loved you for always no matter what.