Some things...

I laid on my living room floor today and just stared at the ceiling. I just laid there and stared. A familiar feeling started to push on my chest. A crushing, squeezing feeling laid down on top of me. And I just stayed there... And cried.

A pathetic fool with her life in knots like her stomach. The only liberty she's got left to take is in how immaculate she can keep her carpets, or how stylish she prims her hair. Every aspect of her life is as frustrating as a bunched tassel or tangled yarn.

The feeling of having lost keys would be welcome about now. At least with a lost set of keys you know they're all still together somewhere... But I'm left with tattered ends and frizzy unkempt twine to work on, right in my lap.

Good things may come in threes, but the bad come by the dozen.

How To Renew A Relationship

I don't quite know where I lost it. Somewhere along the line, all respect for me was diminished and now the only interaction I receive these days is negative. At least from those I give a shit to hear from.

There. Right there. That's the problem. I've gone from being the sweet little naive girl who just loves everyone to the jaded bitch with selfish one-liners under her skin.

I don't want to turn into that. I despise the idea of sucking the morals of, oh say, TJ for example. I mean, I know he's a great guy at his core, but he's tired of the world, and it's tired of him. They've become like a married couple together, bickering and fighting until they prefer silent hatred and unmuttered rules of a long overdue divorce.

Where did my beautiful personality go? When did I start hurting people and when did I stop caring about doing so? Who stepped on me so hard that I couldn't rebound with optimism?

World, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Can we start over?

"I've hurt someone. Something's gone, something's wrong with me."

How To Destroy A Relationship

Wrapping up the day I can still smell the scent of grass on my skin, or is that bliss? That particular smell used to hold childhood memories, but my memories are changing. It's like he crept into my cells and altered their very core, which I'm sure I'd know how to define if I payed any attention in 9th grade biology.

I'm worried that I'm changing too much. I know I can trust myself to change for the better, otherwise change would be foolish. But my concern lies in why I'm changing. It's always been a habit of mine to be able to brush things off like I've done recently, though I can't help but figure I'm doing it for the wrong reasons and giving the wrong impressions.

I don't want to say I feel walked on. I'm more than willing to do what I'm doing, and there's no real abuse in the situation...




Damn, I guess when it comes to real problems, I'm nothing but a blank page.

Maybe I've never been very good at anything...

A thought about bliss.

Just a bit ago, I really sat down to think about what it means to be happy. In my head I versed a few moments in my life where I closed my eyes and counted my blessings, but everyone knows blessings are only counted when you've lost one.

This is why I think I like him so much. Because today, I came to my computer and counted my blessings... and they were all there. I'm not making mistakes that I need to cheer myself up for, I'm not hurting anyone that I need to reassure, I'm not losing anything close to me that faults me.

I've reached such an extreme point of happiness that I'm counting my blessings because I love them, not because I lost them.

Because I love them. :)

You don't have a body.

I've been living life through this window that I carry with me. I'm nothing without it and with it I'm merely a host. I've grown to know personality and love through the placement of commas and the tone of short sentences. The occasional .jpg reminds me that there's more to the world than this room with the shaded window over the drone of traffic.

It's hardly a step up from schizophrenia, this life I have made. I'm glued to message windows and facebook notifications, and can honestly say I prefer to meet my friends through this LCD window than face to face. Even my love has rooted itself firmly in this window. Every tap of the return key is another drop of humanity disappearing.

Faces become photoshopped, skin becomes digitized, emotions turn binary.

Sometimes it feels like you don't have a body.

Mind the thought.

There's modern alchemy in each exchange of words. Mixing, melting, forming and mixing all over again. Make sure to measure everything exactly or the whole concoction could be ruined and wasted, or even explosive. It's not a minefield, in fact, quite the opposite. But that doesn't convince fear. Oh no. Fear has whispered slurs to trust so I'm left with wishes and hopes, inspecting every inch of field before taking even the smallest step.

I'm not sure how to place our words. They're not awkward, but they aren't flowing either. They're not unexpected remarks, but they're not even linear. I'm toying in gray area that's never been toyed in before. A gradual gradient that's becoming more and more blurred to where it feels like I need either all 0's or all F's to define parallel pixels...

I'm hiding nothing, and I'm doing nothing about it. I've stumbled upon epiphanies, but picked myself back up and treaded onward ignoring them like lawyers to the bony homeless. I feel like a statue or a piece of art. Everyone can view what I'm thinking and feeling, even how I'm acting, but behind a glass case, I'm just matter. Parents bring their children by on educational trips to the museum and read my description with some ambivalent header inscribed on a false silver plaque.

It's $7 for an all day pass.

[Update: Friday, 2:18AM]
I've never met someone I can't talk to. I spent 2 years talking to the world, developing my sentences and pushing them out with ease and flow, sculpting conversations and divulging facts. I've become a saleswoman for the school, a vault for quotable phrases and notable one-liners. But for the goddamn life of me, I can't even seem to BEGIN to talk to him. I've hardly expressed my opinions on anything he's said or thought, and I'm becoming more than what I'm making myself to be.

Most of the time, chatting via IM is the most preferable method for me, simply because it gives me a few extra precious seconds to decide if what I'm typing is worded perfection or if something should change, but even in my domain I can't communicate with him. I can't count the number of times I've held my tongue or my fingers, choosing silence over revealing any potential fact or opinion. A simple prompt such as "How are you?" brings me such stress...

It can't be that I'm nervous. I never get nervous anymore. And even if I do, I never prefer silence to telling someone something they surely don't need to know. Maybe it's because I hold him so highly that I want only to hear his words and not burden him with mine. I know that sounds foolish, but it makes sense. That's how we really started talking. He came to me as an ear for some problems, and I went to him in desperate need of someone to help.

And I want so badly to develop something, ANYTHING.

But for once, I don't know how.

Need.

I went on a walk tonight. I needed to clear my head, I needed to get out of this room, out of this apartment, out of this cage that's become my day-to-day life. Freedom is all any adult ever really craves, right? From birth we naturally lose that need to be wrapped up tight and snug and we start stretching out our limbs and sleeping in the nude.

I felt, on this walk, like I was finally stretching out for once. Like I've spent the past 20 years snuggled up in a blue blanket carefully under a mother's watch. It was raining, slightly at first but then more so, but pleasantly.

The warm puddles in the street were a welcome addition to my sandals. The wet breeze felt like my back yard at home. So alone, so desolate, and so filled with my thoughts. But I needed that. I needed to tap myself of my misery for a change. I needed to talk to nature again like I used to do when I was a kid.

Or maybe I need a therapist. Or chocolate. Or sex.

I'm sitting alone staring at a picture of him that he sent me. Jesus, he's living proof that one's perception is the most powerful imaginative tool on earth. I've looked at him from the point of view of others and deduced that there really isn't anything amazing about him. He's not especially handsome, or sweet, or funny, or smart, or even rich. But in my mind he's become the pinnacle of perfection.

He says it all in his smile, and when he least realizes it. The most simple thing, this photoshopped picture of him, has me tied around myself in impatience. I could sit for weeks in awkward silence if it meant seeing him giggle and laugh when we talked. I could wait for months for him to turn an eye to me, despite the heartbreak and yearning of all this time alone.

Alas, I'm here talking to 1's and 0's and packets and protocols. I'm wondering if maybe waiting for Right to come along is a bad idea, and I should just start dating Easy...

I just need love.

[Thursday 1:29pm update]: Easy is AMAZING in bed.

Perfect summer days.

It's perfect summer days like this that remind me of mornings in my mother's bedroom. She always kept her window open, and whenever there was a nice breeze going, it made you feel lighter in a way. Maybe it was the blue color of her room, or the billowing curtains that you swore stretched to the door when the wind hit. Or maybe it's the smell of safety and comfort, and the feeling of 'home' you get when you're somewhere you've been for most of your life. The drone of traffic here is the hum of the neighbor's lawn mower from glancing out her window kept company by a cat on the sill.

It can't be described unless it's embedded in your mind from your childhood and teen years. Perhaps I can pinpoint what nice weather like this means to you. Is it waking up on a vacation to an open window and a clean conscience? Is it the push of the snooze button on your alarm clock to just lay back and listen to the beginning of the perfect day? Is it the gust of curtains letting flickering sunlight filter through as you wake up naturally? Maybe the smell of a perfect summer day reminds you of visits to the pool, or hikes through the forest, or escapades with close friends, or long drives to theme parks and family reunions, or days spent in the sun in your back yard...

Or the smell of their cologne/perfume...

Or if you're like me, you remember waking up in the middle of a summer day, pleased to have your eyes open and counting the individual blessings you've been given. By the way, Mom, thanks. :)