The trouble with this dance

You came into my life rather unexpectedly. I wasn't looking to meet you. I was perfectly fine just doing me. But then you had to come waltzing in like some aficionado of sorts, with your demeanor - calm, cool, collected; who danced over and whisked me away. You caught me off guard. And I was lost from the beginning.

Now here we are in this undecided tango with unplanned, discombobulated steps. The trouble with accepting your hand for this dance is I'm already lost in the moment and I don't know if it's real or if it's nothing but. Maybe we'll dance to remember. Maybe we'll dance to forget. Maybe this dance is just our bodies tangled in a moment of weakness, human desire - a need for something, a longing for more; the start of something new. Maybe we're not supposed to know what comes next. Maybe reality is the pleasure will be gone as quickly as it came.

The trouble with this dance is I'm clumsy. I can try to perfect the steps but I will always be off a beat. Sometimes I'm self conscious with my stumbles, shaken and uncertain. Even in confidence my strides are translucent, deceptively seductive to mask the chaos that precedes. This is why I dance to forget.

Because if I dance to remember, all of these beautiful moments that happened at the right time, in the right place, with the right person won't be a figment of my imagination anymore. And if I start to believe in something extraordinary, I'm only going to want to dance away the night. And I'm terribly sorry, but I just can't break another leg.

Failing Miserably

I have this uncanny feeling; but something just feels right about this.

Except I have this tendency to fall too much, to give people pieces of me so undeserving.  I find myself giving away too much trust, too much feeling - too much of me. I try to fit puzzle pieces into empty spaces in my heart that don't have a place. This tendency makes me apprehensive.

But see, I want you by my side. I want you, deep into the night, so we can dance into the dark. I've never danced like this before. I'm unsure of the steps, afraid to miss a beat; clumsy with my moves that are usually so swiftly executed. But what happens if I let you in?

You're just another chance I take, it's out of my control - and I can't stop the feeling. I've lost control and there's no turning back. I taste you on my lips, and I can't get rid of you. You're worse than nicotine. And I need you so bad.

Am I tripping? Is desire getting the best of me? I'm a hot mess, and I'm falling for you. I'm not sure what to do with this. Doubts are running around my head, but my heart is beating loud, and I don't want it to stop. It drives me crazy how much I've been thinking about you lately. I can't stop thinking out loud.

I keep telling myself run away, run away; don't chase it. Except you've got me restless. How will I fall asleep tonight? How will I rest my head? Run away, run away, don't chase it.


But somehow I keep coming back to you.

Exit Stage Left: Year Three

Tomorrow will be three years.

Three years since that night.

Three years since my intuition knew.

Three years since you invited Death in.

Tomorrow another year will have come and gone without you. Two simple words, without you, still slice gashes in old wounds poorly healed, marred with scar tissue.

That night is stuck on repeat, a constant loop replaying through my mind. I remember it vividly. 

But sometimes I wish I didn't. Sometimes I wish I could forget.

Sometimes I wish I could talk to you one last time.

Sometimes I wish I could see you one last time.

And every day I wish you were still here. But that wasn't an option, and we all knew it.

I miss you. RIP JE.

-----

Excerpt from "Survivors"

Except that isn’t something I can do. I can’t forget.

Forgetting isn’t in the cards.

At night, the emptiness of the house is filled with my thoughts, questions shattering into pieces as I dissect each broken shard – a nightly attempt to grasp the solution. Familiar sounds bellow through the hallways, echoing the routine I’ve come to embody.

The night is a ghost town, casting shadows of those forgotten, bringing to life memories buried by reality.

Sometimes I tell myself that replaying that night might make sense of it all.      But it doesn’t.

Sometimes I tell myself that as the days pass it will get easier.                            But it doesn’t.

Sometimes I tell myself lies to subdue reality.                                              But the truth hurts.

And you can’t handle the truth.

So the truth stays hidden, buried deep inside, locked away, impenetrable.

And it’s inside, that I weigh heavy.

Remittance of a Burning Fire

There is something about a fire, a strange gravitational pull the embers ignite.
The flames dance wildly, grasping for air.
I relish in the warmth as the flames of the first fire of the season slowly flickers to a blurry haze.

The chaos is soothing.

Wake Up Call

I took a cold, hard look at myself in the mirror the other day and almost didn't recognize who the person staring back at me was. I was a stranger to myself. I didn't know who the woman in the mirror was. I do that sometimes though, stray off. I'm good at wearing multiple disguises, I'm good at being different, molding into something completely opposite, sometimes into something I'm not, but because I'm so adaptable you'd never know the difference - and I blame it on the gemini in me. 

What's important is I finally realized this. Lately I haven't been myself, I've been this random stranger and I just haven't been me. Somehow in these last few months I'd managed to forget who I was, and I lost myself. Maybe it's because I had fallen into a different lifestyle than I was used to - this wild, carefree, intense world had drawn me in, seduced by its lustful temptations, and I dove head first, all in. But when the dust cleared, and reality set in, I was reminded how immature and lonely that kind of lifestyle can be, and no matter how many times I tried to fill in the emptiness, I would still feel empty because I wasn't truly fulfilling my own needs. I tend to put others first before myself, and these last few months that's exactly what I had fallen into, and it isn't surprising that I've found myself hurt and feeling broken again.

So this is my wake up call. This is me giving myself that motivational pep talk, the one where it finally registers, and I get back on track. I might not know where I'm going, or where I'm headed, or what might become of the future, but what I do know is from here on out, I'm putting me first. That doesn't mean I'm not still going to question what happened, why it didn't work, or I'm not going to have tougher days where I'm reminded of you and it hurts when it pulls on my heart strings, no. What it means is I'm going to rise up, brush off the pity party, and with my head held high, I'm going to continue to move on. I'm not saying I'm going to leave you behind in the dust, but I will feel sorry for you. I am on my way to bigger, better, amazing things, and even though you chose to not be apart of those things with me, I'll always remember what we had, because that's who I am. I'm the one who feels too much, loves too much, but that's okay, because I would rather experience all the emotions from the happiness of love to the pain from feeling broken than to say I didn't feel at all, or that I didn't try. We could have experienced so much, but you didn't want to, and that's okay because I'm still going to.

So bring it on world. Let's do this.

Faded Memories: What Happens When You Fall For the Commitment Phobe

They say a sad soul is always up past midnight.

I used to not believe that, going more along the lines of nothing good (meaning you're having a good time) happens after midnight. But about a month ago I started to not believe that.

When I met you I had some empty spaces in my heart. And those empty spaces made me feel like there was something wrong with me, like I was defective. But then I met you and we had this intense attraction that created this strange sort of pull, and suddenly, I didn't feel so empty anymore.

I think I find myself falling for people with too much - too much emotion, too much trust, too much love, too much feeling. I fall for the way you sound at 4 am, deep asleep. I fall for the way you look when you smile across the room at me. And it's so addicting the way your eyes light up when you ask me what I'm thinking.

I think I grow attracted to people who I know will leave. I do this too often and I cling to false hope. I can't help it though because in those people, I see all that they are, even when they don't seem to see it themselves. I guess that's why I wonder how they can let their hearts grow so cold, and push me away, discarded so easily. But maybe it's because just like mine, their heart has been cast aside, left broken, shattered into pieces in the cold, wet rain. Maybe we both know the feeling too well, and are afraid to feel that again, so that's why we become so cold so quickly. Most days I struggle when there's nothing left to say, even though my heart beacons me to let it all out. I still don't know how to convince you that out of everyone, out of all those that have left you, I'm always the one that will still be standing there with an umbrella, big enough to shelter your heart.

If I could have picked anybody, I would have picked you. But now, you're quickly becoming part of my past, just another bundle of memories stored away, fading as each day goes by. I'm forcing myself to try to move on, but it isn't easy when you don't exactly want to, and the constant battle back and forth is a struggle. Eventually, one day, I will move on and that is the day I will feel sorry for you. I will feel sorry for you because you should have opened your eyes - if you would have opened your eyes you would have seen, even from far away, that we were drunk off each other. Drunk off the way we laughed, drunk off the way we snuck glances at each other even though both of us knew the other was looking, drunk off the way we fit like two puzzle pieces; we were drunk off the connection we held, a nervousness hidden behind subtle excitement that we were together. We found each other utterly intoxicating, and neither of us could deny that.

Some days my heart still sinks to my shoes because I realize how much I still want you. No matter what has happened in the past, no matter what you've done, you still move me more than anyone I've ever met. Other people seem lifeless next to you. You are the one who brought me back to life. But it's hard to wait for something you know might never happen, and it's even harder to give up when you know it's everything you want. What hurts are the memories. I don't like the memories because regardless if they're good or bad, the tears come too easily. It's a constant battle, the war between remembering and forgetting. Sometimes I think it is so much safer not to feel. But no matter what, some time in your life, someone will hurt you. They will take all you are and rip it into tattered pieces and not even bother to watch where the pieces land. You've managed to do that, somehow you've managed to destroy me. You've managed to break my heart by simply walking away because you're so afraid you aren't ready for the amazing thing we were slowly becoming. And it really is a terrible thing I think, to wait until you're ready. I feel like nobody is actually ever completely ready to do anything. I don't know if there is such a thing as ready. There is only now. And instead of allowing your fears to make you run and hide, staying and doing it now would have been just as good a time as any. Sometimes what you're afraid of most is the one thing that can set you free. I wish you would realize that.

I can only hope that one day you will wake up and realize you shouldn't have let me go. The truth is, no matter how far I've come, some days I feel like I've taken one step forward and two steps back. Some days are easier than others, just like some days I can confidently say I've moved on, while other days it only feels like a lie. Funny how no matter what you do, there is always a piece of that person lodged inside of you, and all it takes is that one song, that one place, that one phrase that reminds you of that person and all that you had with them. Deep down I think we both know it was never supposed to end like this. But with every day that goes by, it's becoming easier to accept the way it ended, and you're becoming nothing more than a faded memory.

The Spotless Mind

Sometimes I want to delete you. Erase you from my memory for good.
Sometimes I yearn for a spotless mind, one without the painful memories, one without the overwhelming anxiety.

I miss the naive, young girl I once was, the one that believed in love unquestionably, with no crippling suspicion, and only whole hearted trust. I miss the innocence you took from me, that you've stolen unapologetically in the dead of the night that night. I ache to remember the time when I didn't anticipate secrets and lies, and the betrayal they harbor. But you've made me forget what that felt like. You've made me forget who that young girl was. I've become hollow, a pathetic shell of who I once was. I've morphed into a bitter, cold, untrusting monster, caged by the damages - imperfections, and the broken pieces you left behind - insecurities. And I hate what I've become.

She hides, cleverly camouflaged, disguising herself in the faces of strangers. She lingers, uninvited, she haunts me at the darkest hours of the night when I cannot sleep, and invades my sanity. The reflection in the mirror unveils that she hasn't left as she pulls the trigger. The bullet sinks in slowly. Suspicion is the only exit wound. And I'm tired of feeling defeated.

There is nothing left, I am numb inside, and I am barely breathing tonight. But I want to feel whole again. I want to shed my shell, rid myself of the monstrous catastrophe that I've become. I don't want to hide anymore. I want the walls of my shelter to crumble and be engulfed, I need to suffocate on the disaster that surrounds me so I can be reborn. Slowly, I will rebuild. I will collect the broken pieces scattered on the ground and carefully shape them into that somebody who I used to know. I will emerge, not as the tattered young, naive girl, but as a beautifully scarred woman, worn by her imperfections, but gradually restoring her strength.

And she will be loved again.

What Happens When You Cheat: Of Aftermath and Ruins

There's a saying, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." I don't know how many times I might have said that to myself after I found out that night. There is something to be said about intuition, and something inside of me just knew. I remember that night vividly, unsure of the gut-wrenching feeling in my stomach, where it came from so suddenly and unexpected yet strangely asserting my urge to fuel my curiosity. And when I did, after my searching confirmed my suspicions and the floor collapsed underneath me, fists trembling, the wind knocked out of me, my emotions spiraling out of control - I lost it. I was enraged that somebody would, could do this to me, take my trust and stomp on it like a dead carcass, and it broke me to know that you, of all people, did that to me. I woke you out of a dead sleep, not caring. Why should I have cared? You clearly hadn't. How long had this been going on? How long had you been lying? How long had I been a fool? Who the fuck do you think you are that you can do that to me? And why the hell would you do that to me? And oh, you're sorry, but now you're going to flip this around on me for searching. And now it's my fault, and I'm the one who did something wrong. Oh you were clever, yes, you were, making me insecure about myself, making me feel like it was my fault all along, and I had but no choice to stay with you, because who else would want somebody like me? Yes, you fooled me. And you didn't just stop at once. You continued your charades, and the other girl, your psychotic ex, knew about me the entire time, and you were both okay with it. I look back now and wonder what kind of person you have to be to be alright with ruining somebody like the two of you did. What promises did you make each other? What lies did you tell yourselves? The same lies I told myself - that he's not replying because he's sleeping, that you promised you would never hurt me again, that you were being honest, that it was just my imagination, my insecurities driving my suspicion. Yes, I told myself lies because those lies subdued my reality - that one day, I would eventually discover that you were still cheating on me, still ripping my heart to shreds, and fooling me twice.

Eventually that cheating is what ruined us. I could never trust you, no matter how many times I told myself I could, that I could forgive you, forget what happened; it just never happened. Your cheating haunted the every corner of our relationship. It didn't matter how many claims you made, promised me that you were a changed man, it was me and only me - my doubt was always there, permanent, unmoving like cement. There would never be trust. 

And ironically, you're the one who broke off the relationship. Claimed it wasn't healthy for you, that you were unhappy, that you no longer loved me anymore. Irony can be such a bitch sometimes, and in our relationship, I'm the one who got bitch slapped, and hard. It doesn't stop there either, because after you've been cheated on, you're ruined for the next person. Damaged goods, you could say, because how can you ever open back up to somebody knowing the last time you did you basically got shit on? How can you trust somebody when the last time you let yourself trust somebody you loved and cared about took your heart and Riverdanced the fuck out of it? How do you explain to that person that you have trust issues and open up to them about your past without being a poster board for damaged goods galore?

That is what I hate most. That while I might seem fine on the outside, I am still in ruins.

My thoughts on texting and why some men absolutely suck nuts at the unwritten rules of texting etiquette

Disclaimer: This is not about you.

Let me warn you now that this is going to be a raving rant about how some people (mostly men) drive me absolutely bad shit crazy when it comes to their texting methods (or lack thereof).

Since I'm out on STD (short term disability you pervs you, not what I know you're all thinking...) I've spent countless number of nights up ravishing thought catalog's articles. Last night I stumbled upon this little ditty, http://thoughtcatalog.com/emily-bozek/2014/01/12-rules-men-should-follow-when-texting-women/#1hm5Wdk1PXKGBWtJ.01 about texting and rules men should follow when texting women - let me just say I could not agree more with every rule in this article, and especially #5. For those of you who know me, it drives me ABSOLUTELY insane when I text you and you take your sweet ass time replying back to me. The only exception, like the article mentions, is if your ass is admitted to the hospital or you got yourself into some sort of gruesome mess. I understand we all have lives of our own and sometimes we're not attached at the hip to our phones, but with that being said we all check our phones at some point in the day and I know you can be ever so courteous to reply to a woman's text if you see there's a new one in your goddamn inbox, especially if (heaven forbid) you're talking, trying to score, banging, or dating the chick.

With that being said, coming from me personally, if you reply back to my 2 pm text at midnight, don't expect me to be bounding with happiness that you finally texted back. In fact, if you pull a move like that, I like to do this thing where I "boycott" you the next day and I won't text you. The idea behind that is you'll text me, but I've come to find it generally doesn't work out that way, and if it does, the text doesn't come until after 10 pm. All I'll say is bottom line, if you don't get a text back from me within say, half an hour to an hour tops, somethings wrong and my ass is admitted in the hospital and I don't have access to my phone to tell you my ass is admitted or I'm peeved as all hell with you and hate your friggin' guts for the time being because more than likely my phone is right next to me and I just don't want to reply because you're a jerk face and I'm being stubborn. Oh and if I do reply, you can expect me to be somewhat short with you. And again, for those of you who know me, I am generally not a short person - in fact if you ask some people I know they'll tell you very sarcastically that I never have much to say at all.

Piggybacking off of that, as #1 says, seriously, text us first because we eat that shit up. I hate feeling like I have to text you to initiate a friggin' conversation every time I want to talk to you. Yes, I might be a bit of a chatty Kathy sometimes, being a Gemini I love me some communication and thrive off of it, but in all honesty, it would be great if you send me the message first. And as #2 and #8 says, get more creative than "What's up?" and if you're looking to "hang out" with me either grow some fucking balls and ask me out on a date or forget about it already. I mean, will I "hang out" with you? Yes, I will, but I'm more than confident in you that you have the capability to ask me out on a date already. You might even get smart enough to ask me how my day is going throughout the day like #9, and lettme tell you, if you do that you're gonna have women everywhere squealing like little girls and bragging about how awesome you are.

Lastly, please don't ever give me the excuse that "you're not good at texting" or "you don't like to text when _____" or any other shit for brains excuse you can think of why you aren't texting because if you have any sort of talking or dating intentions with that women, you're going to do whatever possible to get in her good graces and impress her. So let me make it easy for you, and please, spare me the bullshit and just fucking text back already kapeesh? Thanks.


Phew. End rant.

I'm a poet, and I know it

So poetry doesn't technically count as "blogging" but I wrote these a month or so ago and felt the need to share them since I haven't written in about a dark age so BOOM! Here ya go kids:

Absent Minded

Take back what you said.

It’s not what you said we’d say.

Take back what I heard you say.

It’s not too late; it’s not too late tonight.

We’re absent, our minds.

Tonight, when we’re alone, you’ll enter my bones.

And that’s when I’ll come alive.

Breathing slowly, help me to see what I need to survive.

Tonight, later when the time is right,

Under the intoxicant light, I’ll choke on my dark moans.

Look at the mess we’ve made.

I gave you all control, but you’re suffocating me.

Follow my lead, oh, how I need somebody.

I’ve looked everywhere, haven’t found him yet.

It’s not too late, I still see straight.

Let me go, let me go.

Before it’s too late,

And I keep coming back for more.

Resurrected Fear

Is this how you want me? One more smile, one more bed?

I know you hate it, but wait just a little bit more.

No, stop, please hurry; come take what you came here for.

My lust is burning, don’t let me slip away.

Then you touched me, in the background.

It broke me, I broke down.

Pulled me closer, in the background.

Oh, I didn’t know love could hurt this way.

I’m not your first; you’re not my last.

But you brought me back to life.

Late one night, you set me free.

And I felt complete.

I swear it’s different because I’m lonely.

But they can’t love me; they can’t love what I don’t show.

And this morning I woke up with this overwhelming fear of love.

And I’m not sure if I can resurrect you.