coming home

i'm starting to remember why i hate coming home. it's the interminable boredom. i have nothing to do. i've watched entirely too much tv and i reread one of my childhood favorite books, julie of the wolves. i sleep too much and feel like crap the rest of the day. i could drive up to my cousins' house, but all we'd end up doing is talking, watching a movie, or sleeping. i want to go out and get some sort of alcohol because i can. but there's no one to drink with. the dogs stink and need a bath...but i dont have the energy. there are plenty of cookies and pies and breads and dinners i could make, but i just cant seem to get started. that's what i really want to do, i want to cook. i want that warm environment and the wonderful smells and the mess and the sweet accomplishment afterward. i'm just not comfortable here.

the one up side is that my bed is warm. for so many years, i've struggled to get my bed warm. finally, i have found the right combination of blankets to keep me from waking up in the middle of the night shivering.

i need something to do...desperately. i really wish we had an extra car. plus i just feel so damn guilty using my parents' gas or time or car or anything.

why can't someone cook good food?? i'm freaking tired of takeout.

"I thought I had found my prince charming. He was perfect and wonderful and we were going to live happily ever after. Imagine my surprise when I kissed him and he turned into a frog! I was so angry and hurt and I felt so betrayed. I felt deceived. I pouted and raged until I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and found that I too was a frog."

-my mother

tonight i am blown away by the amazing girls on my hall. i have underestimated all of them. i was wrong. these are some of the most amazing and real women i have ever had the privilege to know, much less live with. i hope i have time to get to know as many as i possibly can in the next two weeks.

spam.

spam email i just got. i feel like i've read this before...but i can't place it. well, all but the last part.

But now, walking home under the frosty stars, he felt very quiet already, as though he needed no weight to lie heavy on his restless heart. It did not seem restless now, but very still, as though it too were dead. He noticed that the air was milder, and as he crossed the bridge below his house he stopped and listened. Yes, the fine ear of his experience caught a faint grinding sound. By to-morrow the river would begin to break up. It was the end of winter. He surprised himself by his pleasure in thinking of the spring. He slept hardly at all that night, waking with great starts, and imagining himself in strange foreign places, and then recognizing with a scornful familiarity the worn old pieces of furniture in his room. He noticed at these times that it was very cold, and lifelong habit made him reflect that he would better go early to the church because it would be hard to get up steam enough to warm the building before time for service. After he had finished his morning chores and was about to start he noticed that the thermometer stood at four above zero. to. You can begin with SCHLAG-ADER, which means artery, and you can hang onthe whole dictionary, word by word, clear through the alphabet toseins to the end of his oration. This sort of gewgaws undignify a speech,

“He has made us competent as ministers of a new covenant—not of the letter but of the Spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.”
2 Corinthians 3:6

i had it easy. i have it easy. i know.

last night i dreamt i was thrown to the lions. this morning i woke up and found that i was still in their den.

its like being sick...but being so drugged that you forget, so you go out and run around and just make yourself more sick and then wonder why youre so tired. i dont know why. just because your problems are smaller than others' doesnt mean yours are invalidated or that your pain is any less.

valentine, i think i taste it.

the sounds of silence permeate the dawn's rosy glow

opening credits:
Roman Candle - Elliott Smith

waking up:
Sleep the Clock Around - Belle & Sebastian

first day at school:
Four Leaf Clover - Badly Drawn Boy

falling in love:
Caring is Creepy - The Shins

breaking up:
Nobody - Johnny Cash

prom (but i didnt go):
Irma - Magnetic Fields

life's okay:
Evening On The Ground - Iron & Wine

mental breakdown:
Noah Visits - James Newton Howard (The Village Soundtrack)

driving:
Times Have Changed - The New Pornographers

flashback:
Desperate Guys - The Faint

getting back together:
Blueberry Frost - The Mountain Goats

wedding:
Mother's Eyes - Jump, Little Children

birth of a child:
Passing Afternoon - Iron & Wine

final battle:
Allegro Vivace E Con Brio - Ludwig Beethoven

death scene:
Caberet - Liza Minelli

funeral song:
Bring A Torch, Jeanette, Isabella

end credits:
Hickory - Iron & Wine

not too incredibly impressive...but good for a start i suppose. perhaps i will put together an actual soundtrack for my life. it's actually quite interesting if you listen to the songs.

but he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind

so im working on my life soundtrack...or at least the one for right now. i can see myself doing this quite often. i change my mind a lot. why? because i'm too tired to go to sleep. because i'm too tired for it to be tomorrow yet. not because of tomorrow...but because i'm too tired to handle another day...or even the idea of another day. so i'm wasting time. trimming my itunes for a final time. well...not final, but close.

here are the rules for the soundtrack (thanks amy)

1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool..

they swallowed the pills like flowers, like they had tomorrow to gain.

im listening to iron and wine again. i dont know why. theres something there thats so broken and beautiful, something that reaches a place in me i forgot. a place that isnt often awake...a place that shouldnt be awake very often. i want your flowers like babies want God's love or maybe as sure as tomorrow will come. time moves forward as sure as tomorrow will come. a sorrowful comfort in constancy. the innocence of a daughter who wants nothing but God's love...and we can't give it to her. we are just so very much not enough...for anyone. the deep hunger i have for one of those soft, warm bundles, still curled up in the shape of the womb. content to close my eyes with my face close to his. something so joyful in the first sounds and cries. something so wonderful. a painful yearning that i can feel from the tightness in my throat to the ache in my chest to the tingling at the tips of my fingers. papa died smiling. im sad. i dont know why. i dont want to be. i shouldnt be. maybe because i missed a dose...maybe two, i cant remember. dont worry. im afraid when your eyes drift away. afraid you will catch the worry in mine. i dreamt about rain...lightning and a deep thunder that shook my chest. cold, crisp, wet wind filled with the smell of the storm washed over my body like a baptism. a relief from the heat that threatened me. i cut my finger yesterday.

waking before you ive got a fever and a childish wish for snow. seems like a long, long time since i spun you to this borrowed radio. you pick a place that's where i'll be. time like your cheek has turned for me.

like the lord who has seen his love but we dont know. im not enough. im sorry. i wish i was.

im so cold...and im shaking my head but the spiderwebs wont go away. im getting tangled up. tuckered out and tamed. broken horse. broken in. broken spirit. tame...broken spirit. a history of lovers led me down the path to you. sometimes i wish things were different. speak as if no one else ever could offer the same. bow as the curtain goes down. fuck 'em they'll come back for more, waiting for a knock at the door. like a razorblade. stop. stop. listen for the warning signs. be watchful, be wary. there's something inside you that could kill you tomorrow. there're demons inside his little orange bottle. we were sixteen maybe less maybe a little more. watching the neon on a liquor store. i finally had a story to tell. an autumn-time lullabye sang our newborn to sleep, waiting in the woods on christmas eve.

im fighting her. i am. she gets her claws around my neck sometimes, but the smell of blood and the heat of the battle clear my eyes, and somehow i wrestle my way out. there are cuts on my neck, but the pain gives me clarity. dont worry my dears, dont worry. dont be afraid of the dreams fever brings. the cold, wet wind will wash them all away and thunder will waken you. hell i thought it was already as heavy as can be...but that's not true. i knew it was never true. i dont know if i will ever realize when it gets heaviest...but i know it's not there yet. will the little pink pills make me blind to the weight that crushes me? will i be happy and ignorant until the end? i hope so. i dont want to see the end. i dont want to know it's coming.

ive got her by the tail now. i'm winning. im strong enough now.

i want your flowers like babies want God's love
or maybe as sure as tomorrow will come.

whisper me tomorrow of your hand and shoulder. red pressing through my breast to reach inside your yearning. to bridge your river eyes. wandering catches in the vine when softly woven. as i'm pressing back inside you from the cold; a retreat from the fingers reaching through the wooden door. loosing sense from the hand wrapped around my mouth across my cheeks. lost within uncertainty you found me. beneath the leaves that fell, beneath the shadows held. strains of sunlight found me, as happenstance stumbled on the vision of a lie we told. listen to the chords on sunlight strings that hang below the canopy. metallic in cold clarity of colored trees.

damn it all.

so i started to work on my take home exam thing and i got one chapter done. then i look back and realize that each question is supposed to be a PAGE in length. needless to say that means i have to redo my answers thus far, which is just depressing. so, having lost ALL motivation, i wandered around the internet...looking at training programs that would give me a good job in case i dont actually graduate because this whole lack of motivation thing does not bode well for me in the long term. though that is worse case scenario it still means that i didnt get the work done that i wanted to get done, and i cant now because i told myself i'd go to bed by 11. however, i did take the time to look and see how many questions i would have to do per day to be done by the due date...only 2 per day. thats doable i suppose. if i dedicate an hour a night to it, and work as if it's due tomorrow, it should get done. my ultimate goal is to be done at least one day before it's due. that would be freaking amazing. however, i still have so much more stuff hanging over my head from other classes (research methods is the biggest monster right now) that i think at the end of it i might just have to have an emotional breakdown for a day or two. the good news is that once that's over, i'm good to go.

a cold season

the fabric of my clothing scratches more at my skin and, when i bend over, there are small pains in the skin of my back. needles pricking and scratching away as the skin stretches painfully, dryly. i smile and my face stings and stretches tight over my cheek bones, across my forehead, and just under my bottom lip. i can't escape the sunny fall days that frustrate me with their too hot sunlight on my head and right side while the cold wind keeps me from shedding one of my thick and cumbersome layers. the warm weight of my extra blankets is comforting, until i wrap myself up and flail in a panic to escape the smothering embrace. i like looking out of windows in the fall, though. or driving in a car. then it's not too hot and i'm not shivering, but i get to enjoy the amber, garnet and lemon colors in the trees. i stare as far out as possible in the ice-clear air, trying to find the last horizon. or i walk through the woods and put my hands in the ice-cold stream, letting the water numb my fingertips. those are the good parts of the cold. not the maddening static cling of my hair to my neck, or how frustratingly dry everything is. if it isnt unbearably dry, it's cold from the damp. i have my guitar now. i have the comforting, crackling fire sound and smell of a hearth in the soft, deep chords at my fingertips; no longer numb from the winter, theyre warm from playing the strings, lengthening them and shortening them on the metal frets. the silver-wrapped silk digs into my fingers, but i don't notice, because i am focused on the harmonious reverberations and soft lullabye of an instrument much older than i; an instrument that sang me to sleep so many times, a humble accompaniment to the gentle tenor of my father's voice. this is the cold season.

ok.

i'll fight it.

i'll fight it with all God's strength.

and i'll win.

ten-minute shower

GO!

i hate the winter

i said i didnt want to go. truth is, i didnt want to get up the energy to go. i dont have the energy...or at least the will to pick it up and dust it off.
i said it was too cold outside, when really it's just too cold inside. if it was warmer, i'd have given a different excuse...maybe that i was feeling bad or something. if it was hot i'd have said it was too hot outside, but it would still be too cold on the inside.
i'm tired. but sleep won't help me.

i dont want to be that mother who just checks out. i dont want my kids wondering why mommy doesnt want to play...why mommy just sits there, staring at nothing. i dont want them to think mommy is mad at them. i dont want to hurt them with this.

my mother is coming this weekend. she's worried about me and is coming to "check up on me." i dont want her to, but i can't say that. mom doesnt belong here, and i know i'll feel resentful of her presence. most of the time, people worrying about me just makes me feel like shit. if i can ignore how i feel, sometimes i can forget how i feel.

blah blah blah. woe is me and other shit.

too many unresolved things...feelings...pasts. i dont want to hurt anyone...i really dont. i cant see it and im sorry. i really cant see it. some things still hurt.

i'm hungry. i didnt eat dinner.

Let Him lead thee blindfold onwards,
Love needs not to know;
Children whom the Father leadeth
Ask not where they go.
Though the path be all unknown,
Over moors and mountains lone.
Gerhard Tersteegen

damn it...i'm wrong.

as the thunder shakes the room...

when she felt overwhelmed by school, she'd call her parents, begging their permission to come home. it was finals and nursing school gets pretty tough. she'd cry on the phone to them to let her come home and forget all of it. they'd tell her she could...but she had to get through her exams first. if she got through her exams and still wanted to come home, she could. every time, she called them. every time, she made it through exams. every time, she stayed.

now i want to call her. i want her to tell me things to comfort me. she knows exactly what to tell me. she knows.

mom, it's too hard. i'm never going to make it. i'm just going to flunk out. i'm going to fail. i cant do this.

ok, fail.

but i cant!

yes you can. it's okay to fail. God will love you if you fail. we will love you if you fail. and things will go on. you have to trust that God's plan for you is the best plan. even if it means you fail.

i can't fail.

then dont fail. look, just go back and do what you can tonight. then do what you can tomorrow. if you fail, God will take care of you.

and then i feel better, get some work done, and go to sleep...but mom's not awake right now. and if she is, she's at work. so i make up conversations like this to keep me going. it helps a little sometimes.

i miss my mom.

this whole ordeal has made me physically sick.

GRRRRR

stupid, oppressive nazi school. they are creating a generation that, instead of loving people, will look down on them. the problem is that they will think they are looking down on them when reality they are standing eye to eye. i honestly cannot believe that they were going to watch MY blog! or that anything i say could get HER expelled. THAT'S IN-FUCKING-SANE! and most likely, horribly illegal.

on fall's approach

daddy's ghost behind you
sleeping dog beside you
youre a poem of mystery
youre the prayer inside me
spoken words like moonlight
youre the voice that i like
needlework and seedlings
in the way youre walking
to me from the timbers
faded from the winter
-sam beam

a sudden, heavy chill rests in my chest and on my back, weighing heavier with each passing fall day. nearing the winter that presses me down; blankets folded tightly in the attic. sudden memories of things ive never known, and in the darkness i trace my fingers over the worn letters; recognizing songs ive never heard, but whose tune ive whispered to myself on the days my mind wandered across the mountains.
_______

love is the scene i render
when you catch me wide awake
love is the dream you enter
though i shake and shake and shake you
and love's the best endeavor
waiting in the lion's mane
-sam beam

not all who wander...

i'm wandering in between unwritten fictions. soft and silently swirling as tendrils of smoke from cigarettes. momentary solitude, dreams weaving in the corners of forgotten memories. rooms red and orange. warm rooms with stained wood. wonderful rooms with wonderful thoughts, my mind resides, only too quickly pulled from sleeping wakefulness.

i can see your face so clearly but i cannot remember it before you loved me. i cannot remember the pain and longing and hurt i felt. ive felt for the scars, but they arent there. i thought theyd never heal. there are still broken pieces, sharp points that dig painfully sometimes. cut a little. but the scars are disappearing faster every day.

so i just found out i have unlimited texting.

go figure.

text me!

sick to death

i hate this place. i want to leave.

i want to get off the meal plan. it makes me sick.

i dont feel good. i want to go to sleep...but i cant, i have work to do. (if my head doesnt explode first)

did i mention i hate this place?

i'll throw that fucking phone out the window if it beeps just one more time. i swear i will.

i hate my body...it hates me. it wont let me eat. it's not so slowly killing me.

i really havent felt like doing anything today. or in a while. i dont want to go to work...it never stops. i dont want to work! i want to just go to class. just class. thats all. there are many things that hurt me...many things that shouldnt. i'm afraid...i shouldnt be. goodnight.

interpretations anyone?

the red hills and white sky were unearthily clear and crisp. the ruins of the house were vivid and the texture of the wood was so intense that you could feel the sharpness of the splinters just by looking at it. it was windy and he was telling me about her. this other person from his past. someone he had loved; who had loved him. fear and insecurity welled up inside me and i wanted to run away. his eyes were distant and i felt small and insignificant. her beauty and wit made me a step down. and i felt it. i lifted my gaze, not to him but to the horizon and stared out over the red hills...alone.

the roots of the big tree were exaggerated, heaving up out of the ground. they were as big around as i was. i climbed over them, looking for the kittens. i had returned to see them and to play with them. something about their innocence that drew me back. but only one of the little balls of fur was left. he was a plain orange tabby. there had been many like him in the litter. he was unwanted, unremarkable; but he didnt know it and played just as happily as any young kitten. then i found the grey tabby. she was older, almost full grown, with vivid dark stripes on grey. she had white on her feet that reached up her stomach and almost touched on her back, but her head and chest were dark grey. her face was angular, almost egyptian, and her eyes were clear and intelligent; so intelligent that when i held her, i half expected her to murmur some secret to me.

an urgent feeling of danger was threading its way through the crew. i could hear it in their voices. their eyes focused and clear displayed the uncertainty and fear they all felt. no one tried to hide it. we were drifting farther and farther out into the black. we were out of fuel and swiftly moving away from the nearest source and out into nothingness. a feeling of helplessness and urgency swept over me. i felt caught. caught in that little rusted ship, mentally clawing around like a wild animal caught in a snare. i could almost feel the wire cutting into the skin of my neck and slowly constricting my breathing. i sat there, staring out the window into the nothingness where we would all spend the rest of our now shortened lives. the realization of our impending fate began to dawn on everyone. soon the power would go, and with it our heat...then the air. all that was left was waiting to see if we all froze to death or if we suffocated.

"freezing...i think freezing would be best" i muttered to the empty cabin. "ive always had a fear of suffocating..."

i feel like im gagged.

but i can take it out any time i want.

but im scared.

couches in alleys

Hey Jack it's me,
I don't mean to bother you but somethings been on my mind.
At the end of this road that climbs the horizon will be reached in a matter of miles.
And when the wheels cease to spin the walls and the fences will grow higher than redwood trees.
And I know your demise.
And I fear what will happen when the road fails to flow under me.
Oh Jack you see, I felt like your mirror with the wind whipping through my hair.
When the wheels ceased to spin and I cased my surroundings, I realized I hadn't gone anywhere.
When the problems I'd left with couches in alleys, where no one would ever claim.
And the hardest part was sifting through the pieces of the rain soaked and rotten remains when I got home.

-styrofoam ft. ben gibbard

it's my favorite time of evening, when sun is setting and the sky is soft and warm, making blue and orange reflections on the cars. the dusk is setting in and the lights around the city have just come on, competing with the sunset for the brightest light. the purple neon from lupis is reflecting in the newly rain-washed windows of the cars parked outside and the sky is turning from orange to pink with a hint of violet where the pink fades into the blue. i wish i had my camera...i have color film in it right now.

im feeling like i want to say something
something...
a jumbled up mud of colors
wanting to be letters, sounds, words
music notes perhaps
lots of blue
choking on a few forgotten phrases
and memories
pulling the long string of thought
from my mouth
eyes are green
but hands are red
for the first time
heart is strong
strength is heart
raw
burned from the leaving
and lingering.

ive been absolutely fascinated by light for the past few months. i stop dead, staring at the way light is hitting something. studying every nuance of the source, shadow, and how it falls softly, like a fine powder sometimes...other times like a piece of broken slate. even lights in a river, making their rainbow colors wait for your attention, theyre just a little shy. nineteen lights reflect in two picture frames. streetlights line up, each one reaching a ray out to touch the middle of the windshield; holding on, stretching until the bright line snaps back to wait for another passing car. the curved edge of light from recessed spotlights, the two distorted ovals from a lamp. beams caught and cut by the sharp edges of glass. im fascinated, absolutely in love. weird isnt it?

1 Corinthians 3

1Brothers, I could not address you as spiritual but as worldly—mere infants in Christ. 2I gave you milk, not solid food, for you were not yet ready for it. Indeed, you are still not ready. 3You are still worldly. For since there is jealousy and quarreling among you, are you not worldly? Are you not acting like mere men? 4For when one says, "I follow Paul," and another, "I follow Apollos," are you not mere men?
5What, after all, is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe—as the Lord has assigned to each his task. 6I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. 7So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. 8The man who plants and the man who waters have one purpose, and each will be rewarded according to his own labor. 9For we are God's fellow workers; you are God's field, God's building.

10By the grace God has given me, I laid a foundation as an expert builder, and someone else is building on it. But each one should be careful how he builds. 11For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. 12If any man builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, 13his work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each man's work. 14If what he has built survives, he will receive his reward. 15If it is burned up, he will suffer loss; he himself will be saved, but only as one escaping through the flames.

16Don't you know that you yourselves are God's temple and that God's Spirit lives in you? 17If anyone destroys God's temple, God will destroy him; for God's temple is sacred, and you are that temple.

18Do not deceive yourselves. If any one of you thinks he is wise by the standards of this age, he should become a "fool" so that he may become wise. 19For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in God's sight. As it is written: "He catches the wise in their craftiness"[a]; 20and again, "The Lord knows that the thoughts of the wise are futile."[b] 21So then, no more boasting about men! All things are yours, 22whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas[c] or the world or life or death or the present or the future—all are yours, 23and you are of Christ, and Christ is of God.

terza rima

Stepping gently across the floor
it creaks, a dry and splintered sound
reflecting the dusty-smelling, silver boards
broken and opened, windows to the ground.
The walls are thinning like their yellow-painted planes,
and I know that, without feeling, no surface can be found.
Sunlight casting silhouettes through rippled window panes
onto foreign furniture I know to be my own,
bleaching out the color from the faded wooden frame
and thinning quilt, hand-pieced and ancient, sewn
by mother’s love. The scene in stillness lingered
in between, while outside, time had flown
softly by the window, as a kindly whispered word.

what's written on my arm

Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love,
for in you i trust.
Make me know the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul.

a severe case of humanity

couldnt sleep last night to save my life. it doesnt help that my cough is getting worse. getting up at 7am isnt fun (thats why i wait until 7:40). anyway, ive been completely and thoroughly confused. but nevermind that. this is my prayer:

7Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
8If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
9If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
11If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,"
12even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.
(psalm 139)

8Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love,
for in you I trust.
Make me know the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul.
(psalm 143)

i pray for wisdom and guidance. Lord, dont let the eyes of my heart falter from you.

old friends with an ex-con

today i got a facebook msg from one of my friends. he's a boy i played with when we were both nine or ten. i was overjoyed to find him, we used to have so much fun together. i asked him what he had been up to...guess what his answer was.

jail.

yes thats right. jail. he was incarcerated for six months for something (i dont want to know, my poor little tyler) but let out a bit early...probably for good behavior. he says he's trying to get his life back on track. thats wonderful and i wish him all the luck in the world.

why do i not feel safe now? i have an ex-con for a facebook friend...hell, more than that, i'd love to get in touch with him and really find out what kind of person he's turned out to be. but i just wouldnt feel safe. this is really killing me. i care about him a lot, he's one of the two reasons i got facebook. i cared enough to look him up. i would love to get to know him and maybe even become real good friends again...but then, people change a lot from when they were nine.

he's twenty years old and he already went to jail. probably stole something, hit a guy, something like that. it's just that my stomach turns every time i think about it. i care about this guy, but i'm torn because now i'm also scared of him.

a summary of nights

I have to confront my demons. My demons are wicked, and I am afraid.

I need to talk to my mother, and perhaps my uncle.

I don’t know who I am. I really don’t. It’s starting to scare me. I'm losing grip of something I should be holding onto for dear life. It’s slipping. Slowly and surely it’s slipping through my fingers. I don’t know if I ever had it…but I’m quickly losing it. Sometimes I have to just sit down and shake myself. Shake clear my head and figure out what’s good and right in the world again…and realize that it feels good and that it’s the direction that I need to be heading. But when I'm in the midst of it all, I can't see a thing.
I was in tears last night. I've been in tears the past few nights. The conversation tonight was hard because it made me realize how much I don’t have. There are aspects to my singleness that I value, but none of them are valued over that wonderful feeling of knowing you’re loved…or at least thinking it. perhaps what I am saying here is that I would almost prefer the deception of loving to living without it. I think many fall into that. It feels close enough and it will do, so we go ahead and do it. Sort of like replacing love with sex I suppose. You replace the actual feelings with the actions and you get something that feels close enough and helps alleviate that horrible feeling of being unloved. That’s what I feel right now.
I’m sad. I'm sad and hurting and feeling as unloved as a person can feel. I feel alone and unwanted. I want more than anything to crawl into my mother’s arms and have her hold me and sing to me and tell me that I am worth loving. I won’t believe it, but it helps me to fall asleep, and then I can forget everything.
_______________________________________________

Morning light sheds clarity on blind, nightly struggles. I’m struggling with the same demons that I’ve always had trouble with. They’re just so hard to recognize at night. In the morning I can see how the grasses were trampled with the struggles and I follow them back to the path they pulled me from. First of all and above everything I need to trust God. I am feeling unloved because I am allowing everyone around me to define me. I need to look to the Lord for my worth, my value. I need to be content in who He is and not in who others think I am, or whether or not others are loving towards me. I need to ask Him for strength to get through the outward struggles I am facing. I need to step back and gain perspective, and not the perspective that says “this is all useless and such a short span of time that nothing matters and everything you do is worthless,” but the perspective that says “God is so much bigger than any of this, and He’s on my side and loves me no matter what happens. It will be for the best even if I cannot see it now.” I need to let go. I need to give Him the control I am so jealously guarding.

Seeing this struggle for what it really is helps…and then it doesn’t. Seeing it makes me realize that it is the same struggle I’ve been fighting forever and I still haven’t won. Does this bring me any closer to winning? Will I win? Ever? Will I ever be settled and content and stable in this path I am seeking? If I am, will I know? Hopefully…

Abba, help me to feel like your child.

it came up again. and they all started to say how their mothers and fathers were taught here. they lived in the same buildings, on the same halls, studied in the same classrooms. yet i am first generation. i have always been first generation. none of my family lived in my house before me. other families left their roots behind and i came in. ive never lived in one place longer than seven years. never. i never had the deep sense of history and stability that some have had. that feeling of roots and tendrils reaching deep into the soil. i never grew up and watched my house shrink around me. never ran my hands along the same wall i drew on as a child. all of my roots were left behind, buried deep under the new roots of new families.

one time i went to my father's old house. he grew up in upstate new york, on a little farm. and there he told me how his roots were strong here, they were dying, yes, but they had been strong. the area was still known as king's settlement. the road that ran through it was still called by that name, though none of the maps will tell you anything other than the route number. he showed me the creek he grew up playing in, and i wished that i had also grown up playing in it. i wished to feel the weight of my own history, built up, thick and heavy around me. it was thicker there than its ever been. im too used to the lightness of a few years, for i have scattered my years throughout the south. there is little weight when one leaves pieces of oneself under trees and in the corners of forgotten rooms. the nomadic life is one of lightness, and having been trained to this lightness, the nomad often feels out of place when the weight of their past falls upon them. so they move, leaving roots behind.

the cracks

'well,' he said
as he was leaving,
'blood
tells.'

but you remembered quickly
other times, other faces,
and i slipped between the good
intentions, breathlessly.

-robert creeley

not quite so bitter now
but quite irritable.
im sorry.
i dont feel like i have a reason to be stressed out right now
though i did just start studying for that exam tomorrow morning...
and i did go to the hospital
and im not going to see my family for a while
might have to have surgery
and right now all i want is my daddy to hold me
and my mother to talk to me
but its 3am and i cant call
no one's awake
and im not sleeping
i need someone with big, strong hands to gently work out these knots in my back
not tiny, pinching hands, though it helped a bit.
i dont think ive ever relaxed my back
ever.
why do i always feel like my hands are tied?
what is it thats tying them?
i just want to stretch and let go of the control
drop reins
and get pulled into the strength of the storm
and thunder
i am weary
let me rest
theres so much i need to do
so much
im hungry for God
and i havent made the time
like bending down to pick up a ball
and kicking out of your own reach again.
im frustrated
with myself...always with myself
i dont like myself
in fact i quite hate myself at the moment
and i hate everything that ive done or thought
and i dont know why you read this
to just listen to me rant
about how i hate things
or my pessimistic view of everything
or how horrible of a person i can be
look at me look at me
this is imperfection perfected.

a new perspective.

I don’t know if I like you. I thought I did. Your description as a hopeless romantic and your wonderfully obsessive book collection mingled in with the low notes of your voice and your strikingly dark hair. Your sense of humor was entertaining and your romanticism overwhelming. And I thought, here is a lover.

But you are bitter. So bitter. And I’m not saying it’s unjustified, I cannot judge its justification. But just being around that hurts me. Viciously self-centered and painfully unloving at times. Your scales are heavily weighted and set high and that pedestal even higher. I pity the poor child you will place up there. Perhaps its just something I don’t understand about you, but I could feel you sacrificing people for purity, for an exaggerated sense of honor…if that really makes sense so out of context.

I like to think I get along well with many and judge few…but your words rub the wrong way, and I’m getting raw. I suppose what I’m saying is that once I loved to be around you…and now I have to force myself to be civil.

Lord, I pray for Your love overflowing through me. I pray for patience, acceptance and understanding towards others. Please don't allow me to become embittered. Please.

sometimes i wonder...
i often console myself with the thought that many things that bother me are really very childish. and that it will all heal eventually, and that when i grow up ill look back at these things and smile and shake my head for how seriously i felt them. just painless marks of remembrance on skin.

then i get really scared...
and im afraid these things wont heal. im afraid it will always be a struggle to not think of things, to not remember. sometimes im afraid this is it and that its just all going downhill from here. im afraid itll still hurt while i watch my children's children make these mistakes. im afraid ill still have regrets.

sometimes im afraid i dont have much growing up left. grown up has always been painted as this time when things like this dont bother you, where you dont struggle with these childish things anymore. grown up is this time when the slate get wiped clean...nothing from your past hurts you anymore because youre grown up...and things like that dont hurt grown ups.

i also have a problem extracting good motives from bad. they get so tangled up sometimes.

sudden stripes of realism in a world of idealism
race across my mind like a line
from an indie film
and this is the soundtrack to my day (or are they nightmares?)
i miss it again and i wish i could stay
gleaming chrome in the bathroom sink
or the bleached sky on a winter day,
crossing the bridge to somewhere
i dont care
as long as im going away.
away from here.
this place i made
i meant to stay
but you pushed me too far
today
i wont look back again
but then again
you never did?
i'll never say
forever again.

still awake...

im lonely again

and i really dont deserve this break...i havent been working very hard.

im confused.
lonely.
sad.
scared.
worried.
apprehensive.

im watching a jealous God rip everthing that has ever meant anything to me away. it hurts. and im tired. i dont want to wake up tomorrow...that means i have to remember. remember what you ask? remember how lonely and confused and sad and scared and worried and apprehensive i am. remember how many voices are demanding i be perfect (and dont even bother to write that i neednt be...they wont listen, they never have). hell, not perfect...decent, serviceable, working. but thats just the problem...im not working. im broken. my heart is broken, and not in the romantic way.

im a wimp

ive been working steady for a little under two hours and i had to take a break. im hungry, but at the moment i think ive managed to get myself locked in mills. this is good because it means i can just keep working until im done w/o worrying about mr. security guard (and its one i havent seen AGAIN!). on the upside, ive finished 3 of 5 journal reviews! fuzzah! (as simon would say) i think i want to sneak over to founders and get some food...oh, and pick up my keys, i forgot that getting locked in mills means im locked out of founders..heh heh.

these are secrets i dont want to tell you

i want to sing with someone...in front of no one.
i want someone to hold me when i tell them not to.
i asked God for a miracle tonight, ive never done that.
i dont know if He said yes.
i want someone to see past me.
past my hands held up.
and past my threats.
past what society tells them.
past what covenant tells them
i want someone to see past what they think im saying.
hello elevator
do you bring comfort?
or a distant stare?
or an empty ride?
do you bring a miracle?
or a sin?
or do you just pass by...pistons and gears pushing away, doing only what we told you to. scraping by the doors, going up and away from me?
or do you sit with me on this third floor, waiting...still and silent but for the wind echoing in your emptiness.

when is manipulation not manipulation? when is it just a cry out for someone to love me?

hello
i am hurt.
i am broken.
i have run away from what i cannot understand
i know God.
and thats all i know

dont pity me.
dont come to me with warm words.
i wont believe them.
i wont hear them.
i wont hear you.

when is it not manipulation? when am i just coming up to a friend and asking them to love me? if i ask you honestly, if my words to you are: "i need you to love me" i am not hiding anything. if i say something and really mean it, it's not manipulation. if i ask you for something and thats what i want, it's not manipulation.

im tired and i dont want to sleep.

thunderstorms are good for long talks...and patching things up with people. lightning is good for watching. im glad things happen the way they do because i know there's always something im missing in my perspective...and God sees it. and i know that He sees all of it. and that makes me content.

am i more of an idealist? or less? are my standards lower or higher? i dont think that the story was ruined. a written story is not easily ruined. i dont think poe could ever be truly ruined on a night like this. i can choose to block certain things out of my memory...if i so choose.

...what security guard?

ruhama

Therefore I will hedge up her way with thorns,
and I will build a wall against her,
so that she cannot find her paths.
She shall pursue her lovers
but not overtake them,
and she shall seek them
but shall not find them.

writing secrets on leaves
like "i lost my faith"
and "i dont think he ever loved me"
i found we're all just glass and paint
and we break much too easily.

if you could go back
relive it all again
would you make the same decision,
knowing only what you knew then?

do i really have such a high internal moral standard? is this why i cant bring myself to be anything more than cooly polite to guys i know like me and who i know i wont like? is this why i get so angry at others? i cant seem to pretend i dont know information i hold. "just pretend its not true"...but it IS. it is true and i know its true and if i act as if i do not have this knowledge, i fear i will lead the guy on and then hurt him. i fear giving him false hope. i cannot do these things in good conscience. to me, it is deception, it is morally wrong. and therefore, it absolutely kills me when i see someone else do it. do i place such a high personal responsibility on myself that i cannot abide someone who does not assume the responsibility that i feel is theirs?

i dont know. i really dont know much of why ive been so angry lately.

though ive written every part
and i learned each chord by heart
all my singing's only prose
ive forgotten how the music goes.

or maybe its just jealousy. yes, i believe there is a very substantial dose of jealousy in there somewhere.

barbeque, buses, and tea parties

tonight was surreal. to celebrate the completion of bekah's paper, we drove down the mountain just as the thunderstorm began. the storm, however, was not a torrential downpour, more of a constant backdrop setting. we went to sticky fingers because alex was working tonight and we wanted to cheer him up a bit. so the four of us got a booth and split two pies, fighting over bites with our spoons. amy sue and aaron took the lemons from our water and ate them with hot sauce. then proceeded to suck on them and put the various barbeque sauces on them. when we had finished the pie and lemons, alex gave us balloons which sit at the top of my ceiling right now. we skipped along in downtown chatty, in the rain and lightning, jumping in puddles, with balloons tied around our wrists. amy sue and i stood together and jumped into a huge puddle. then, while waiting at the intersection for the walk signal, we were chatting and laughing. the signal turned to walk, and we bounded into the crosswalk. looking left, i saw this bus pass the line and continue through the intersection. i was puzzled and suddenly the realization that the bus was coming straight at us hit. i reached out and grabbed amy sue's sleeve and pulled her back as i jumped back myself. the bus stopped two and a half feet from us. the thing i remember most about it was that the bus driver had absolutely no expression on his face. he just stared at us with blank eyes. we stood there with him stopped, and he didnt motion to us to cross...just stared. we hesitantly stepped in front of the bus and hastened across the rest of the street. giddy with laughter and adrenaline and thanking God for his protection. we wound our way back up the mountain and decided to have another tea party. we couldnt use fourth because of people, so we invaded first, the overlooked lobby. we set up blankets and pillows and the alpaca rug from the EBP. i strung the two boxes of christmas lights i had all over, making this wonderful glow. mark brought the guitar up and we sat and played music and talked and told stories and drank tea. one of the highlights being alex's replaying of his folk festival song. we talked until we started to fall asleep, then gathered up all the things and carried them back upstairs. it was a wonderful night. incredibly surreal. and the face of the bus driver is still vivid in my mind. the strange thing is that i never felt fear. just...the need to stop it. to get them out of the way. its sobering to think of how we almost got hit. but there was literally no fear. the only thing that went through my head was to get my friends out of the way. no adrenaline rush, just sudden action. the thunder storm continued to growl until we wandered back to our rooms, raining and lightning outside the windows with the warm christmas lights and soothing guitar. a surreal night to say the least.

thank you, Lord, for your protection and blessing.

INFP...again, the idealist

"Idealists, as a temperament, are passionately concerned with personal growth and development. Idealists strive to discover who they are and how they can become their best possible self -- always this quest for self-knowledge and self-improvement drives their imagination. And they want to help others make the journey. Idealists are naturally drawn to working with people, and whether in education or counseling, in social services or personnel work, in journalism or the ministry, they are gifted at helping others find their way in life, often inspiring them to grow as individuals and to fulfill their potentials.

Idealists are sure that friendly cooperation is the best way for people to achieve their goals. Conflict and confrontation upset them because they seem to put up angry barriers between people. Idealists dream of creating harmonious, even caring personal relations, and they have a unique talent for helping people get along with each other and work together for the good of all. Such interpersonal harmony might be a romantic ideal, but then Idealists are incurable romantics who prefer to focus on what might be, rather than what is. The real, practical world is only a starting place for Idealists; they believe that life is filled with possibilities waiting to be realized, rich with meanings calling out to be understood. This idea of a mystical or spiritual dimension to life, the "not visible" or the "not yet" that can only be known through intuition or by a leap of faith, is far more important to Idealists than the world of material things.

Highly ethical in their actions, Idealists hold themselves to a strict standard of personal integrity. They must be true to themselves and to others, and they can be quite hard on themselves when they are dishonest, or when they are false or insincere. More often, however, Idealists are the very soul of kindness. Particularly in their personal relationships, Idealists are without question filled with love and good will. They believe in giving of themselves to help others; they cherish a few warm, sensitive friendships; they strive for a special rapport with their children; and in marriage they wish to find a "soulmate," someone with whom they can bond emotionally and spiritually, sharing their deepest feelings and their complex inner worlds.

Idealists are rare, making up between 20 and 25 percent of the population. But their ability to inspire people with their enthusiasm and their idealism has given them influence far beyond their numbers."

im tired and i dont want to move

i want to curl up in my bed and not move for days. i want to sleep for the rest of my life. i know that God only give us what we can handle...but im so tired of asking for strength. i dont want strength. i want weakness. complete and utter weakness. not the good weakness, the helpless surrender to God. the weakness where you just lie there, unmoving...numb, uncaring. i hate the things that run through my mind. i hate that i hate my friends at times...and for no reason. i am impatient. and i dont want you to forgive me for it. yes, its the easy way out and i dont care. i dont care if im wrong and i dont care if anything else. im tired and blinded right now and liable to take off in any direction. i know what will happen. i dont want it. i dont want it do you hear me? i dont. im tired. im too tired and i wont do it. i dont want strength. im broken. im tired. if i wake up tomorrow and put one foot in front of the other, it will be nothing but God. tonight. tonight im giving it up. i dont want anything. its like walking on a glass bridge...i dont know how or why, but thats what it is. walking on a glass bridge, letting go of the railing.

really and truly, we sink when we take our eyes off him.

Lord, fill my vision. be my everything. be my breath and blood. be my eyes and skin. i want to see nothing, Love. nothing but you.

a pursuit of sin

Come, come, sweet darling
Dance away
Watch the way my arms open to you
And follow where I dance
Chase me, darling
Follow my sprightly step
And away into the woods
Deeper and deeper into the shadows

Don’t I dance so gracefully?
Don’t you want to hold me in your arms?
But I’m just out of reach, my dear
Follow just a little farther

Fingertip grazed fingertip
And energy roused
You’re following faster darling,
And gaining step by step
Your hand slips ‘round my slender waist
And we stumble in the soft grass
And I, sitting there so prettily
With those eyes that haunt your dreams
My eyes are smiling for you my dear.
But not so prettily as its seems

With emerald promises in my eyes
Don’t I look so lovely here?
Sitting just out of reach
Lean in just a little closer, my dear.

I almost have you.

i am contemplating the termination of all forms of internet based communication. if you wish to talk to me, or if i wish to talk to you, do it in person. second best, phone. but i think that shall be it.

until i change my mind, i bid you adieu.

she belongs in her Father's arms.
and that's where she'll stay.

read last post as "look at me, look at me! i need attention because i have all these horrible problems"

yeah...right

no, this is not written to you, dear reader...it's written to myself

im so f-cking sick of you! did you know that?? SICK!! why? why do i have to keep going? why do you have to keep shoving your filthy head back up? why cant i just drown you? why cant i just be f-cking rid of you? but nooo...the slightest gesture, intonation of the voice and there you are again. there with all your f-cking loveliness. you cloud my mind and choke my vision. be gone, damn you! f-ck off with all your shitty memories. i hate them and i hate you. i would rip them out of my damned head if i could reach. gouge my f-cking eyes out if i could be rid of you. but no, ingrained so deeply, you just dont give up, do you? you never give the f-ck up. whispers so soft i dont even hear them...but i see them, and i remember them. damn you. damn you to hell. if i could cut this out of myself i would, and dont you dare f-cking judge me for what i fight every day. and i dont really care. but i cant keep myself from uttering those empty words...every damn day. f-ck it. f-ck it all. i just dont care anymore.

something red.

laugh if you go
and tell me if you fall
for the darkness really isnt darkness at all
its sunlight corrupted
and love forgotten
and one more time will be mistaken.

im sorry my dear,
i didnt know how fast and strong the vines do grow
if im tired this time,
ill close my eyes,
and rest your gentle head in my arms,
lovely one
for this time, if we sleep,
we wont wake to dawn

leftover windows
shards in the sun
the day has only last begun
to fade away and hide its eyes
from the things that stalk the darkness
running to their arms i cry save me from yourself, oh night,
and let me not besmirch your cloak with tears
oh lovely one come closer to me and i'll wipe away your fears
for things that hold you in their arms so loose have lost the very soul of you
to rain and chestnuts in baskets on kitchen tables far from the past
that i remember...

ive forgotten and i left it all in that ditch
some good fifteen miles behind me
and little did i know how many miles i walked in circles
tripping in the same rut
i pray for childbirth and loving hands left warm marks on cold skin,
the color of warmth will wrap the baby tighter than before
and this time she will keep breathing
slow and steady
in and in again,
and the little sighs reach up around the room
and cover it in a baby-ness that we never had before
she is mine
and i love her

can i come with you?

im afraid to ask
afraid of them
afraid of him
of you
yet theres so much i want
i want to be wanted
and loved
can i come with you?
i look up to you, you know?
and im afraid of myself
but what am i afraid of?
wanted, not needed.
not necessity
not requirement
not obligation
or pity
wanted.

excerpts

When my heart was embittered
And I was pierced within,
Then I was senseless and ignorant;
I was like a beast before You.
Nevertheless I am continually with You;
You have taken hold of my right hand.
With Your counsel You will guide me,
And afterward receive me to glory.

...

My flesh and my heart may fail,
But God is the strngth of my heart and my portion forever.



my flesh and my heart fail. they fail me all the time. they fail You all the time. i fail my friends. i hurt them, and sometimes i even mean to hurt them. there are times i just want to give up and leave. leave covenant, leave my family...sometimes even leave this life. but i cant know that it would help them...and it most likely would hurt them. and ive promised them. i love them and loving people sometimes means staying...even when you dont want to. even when youre too tired to love them...too tired to want to love them. i wont abandon them. i will try with all of my strength...and when that fails, i still have God's strength.

"Beyond the ridge to the west, the sun had left the sky
Between the trees and the pond, you put your hand in mine"

its from an iron and wine song...and i know its talking about a young guy and a young girl out in the woods together in the evening. two people who love each other...but i cant help but see a different image every time i hear the line. i think of taking one of those long walks by myself...you know, those walks you dont really look forward to, but you take anyway? yeah, those. they hurt, and theres lots of tears and yelling because theres no one around but the trees, and they never tell anyone what happens in the woods. i see myself sitting on the branch by the pond...tears and anger and fear and frustrations strewn about the ground, soaking into the soft soil. and after a long talk...a talk as if He was sitting right there on the log with me, i get up and walk back home and He gently takes my hand in His. His big, strong, safe hand. and i know He loves me.

people suck.

when perhaps its finally possible for me to move on and out of this strange state of limbo, i cant. i finally find a guy i like and respect and admire...and something always gets in the way. and i dont even want to admit it because everyone will say the same thing. and i could just hear my parents and grandparents and family and friends repeating over and over to me 'you deserve someone so much better' when i really dont. i dont deserve anything above a verbally and physically abusive, emotionally absent, spiritually bankrupt little boy. and there are more than enough of those to choose from...but even they wont have me. it comes to the point where i hate those who have relationships and people to love them. i hate them and then i hate myself for wanting to hate them. i cant win. and im not loved. there is no special guy in my life to call me or just sit and talk, or who doesnt care if everyone knows we like each other. no hiding, no ducking out of sight, no 'i was just lonely' shit [read as: you were only good enough to pass the time]. and i cant help replaying conversations in my head and wondering how they could have gone differently. i cant help hoping that the girl they're in love with is me. i cant help but wish they wanted to spend time with me. i cant keep my eyes open anymore

goodnight

we were sixteen maybe less maybe a little more

Beyond the ridge to the left, you asked me what I want
Between the trees and cicadas singing round the pond
I spent an hour with you, should I want anything else?

One grinning wink like the neon on a liquor store
We were 16, maybe less, maybe a little more
I walked home smiling I finally had a story to tell

And though an autumn time lullaby
Sang our newborn love to sleep
My brother told me he saw you there
In the woods one Christmas Eve, waiting

I met my wife at a party when I drank too much
My son is married and tells me we don't talk enough
Call it predictable, yesterday my dream was of you

Beyond the ridge to the west, the sun had left the sky
Between the trees and the pond, you put your hand in mine
Said, "Time has bridled us both but I remember you too"

And though an autumn time lullaby
Sang our newborn love to sleep
I dreamt I traveled and found you there
In the woods one Christmas Eve, waiting

- iron & wine

lentils make good babies...but you cant eat them.

i feel like im teetering on the edge of something. that pause at the apex of a yawn where you just hold all the air you can deep in your lungs and for that second, its the best feeling in the world. but if you hold it too long theres a sharp pain and the stale suffocating sensation that swirls to your head and makes your vision dance. thats where i am at the moment. im not holding the breath in...im just waiting for the right moment to exhale.

waiting. always waiting. waiting and yet being tossed about and swept forward by the tide. you cant blame the tide though. its the moon that pulls it. it cant help sweeping you up in its waves. are there any who fight the moon?

when i was little, walking alongside the grocery cart, i would pick up the bags of beans and lentils and pretend they were babies. cradling them close in their plastic packages, i would walk along the aisle, always hoping mom would buy the little plastic baby in my arms. but she never bought the lentil baby. sometimes the popcorn baby...sometimes the blackeyed pea baby (which could never really be a baby in my mind, a baby could never be made of blackeyed peas)...but never the lentil baby.

one time my dad made lentil soup. i had to force myself not to think of where he got the lentils.

at night it confronts me as would a tent of heavy fabric, wrapped around me and suddenly the tent pole falls. canvas a foot thick presses me down to the ground. i struggle to breathe, to think, to see. i struggle not to feel and to reason away the pain.

this weekend is etched in my mind as an insanely colorful parody of life. a mocking and serious commentary all at once. so much so that i find myself looking, searching for the name 'dali' painted in the corners. it always seems like a good idea. it always seems like he's trying. but im too confused to tell the difference anymore. or to try.

i find now that i have options, and the ability to consider and appreciate those options. then i say to myself that i dont want options, i want stability, maturity, consistency, and love. but i dont have these things.

it always scares me

when i plug something into an outlet, and that fleshy part of my finger comes into contact with the metal right as the prongs go into the socket. it scares me. perhaps because i've touched a wire before and felt the electricity race through my arm. it hurts. and im afraid that one of these times it will keep going. it wont be just that thrill of the energy coursing through my body...no, it will hurt...for so long and then stop. but it wont stop because my hand wont have left the metal. it wont stop, but i wont feel it anymore. i wont feel anything anymore.

its just so painfully obvious
and im forced to watch
and it hurts
like hell

this past week...

i just feel like im walking around in a fog...at night...and im not quite sure where the cliff is or what im about to step on. i keep getting hurt by the things i didnt guard against, and sometimes even by the things i did.

RA

i much prefer to sit back
to be there when needed...and when not?
wait,
or run around with my friends
but im still there,
there to catch the ones who fall through the cracks.
its not really me catching them anyway
His hands are much stronger than mine.
i am His
to use as He pleases.

that is why im not doing RA.
i want to be there for the others.

snip.

the silver sound of the scissors slid through the air
cutting
severing that one thought
slicing out that one little part
she most wanted to forget

cold and sharp, the blades made a metallic
singing noise as they slowly closed.
a ringing
that sang of their keen edges meeting
and the quick clip as they lay together
side by side
their work done.

one event, one word, one face
one smell, one memory, one thought
swirling around her head
and bouncing off the back of her skull
reverberating painfully in her consciousness.

snip*

and it was gone.

i hate it i hate it i hate it and i hate that i hate it

why?

because i cant stop looking at the application and realizing i cant do it. i dont have the motivation or the drive or the leadership ability. i dont have the creativity or the ability to make people excited about things. because i am selfish and tired. because my heart is still hard, and its all i can do to keep breathing in every day. because if God needs me there, he will put me there with or without an application. because i cannot seem to even see my own problems much less work on them. because i never know what to say. because im not a leader. because im not sure if its where i need to be or because i selfishly want to be looked up to. respected. because it started out as a whim. because i couldnt do it on my own. because i wouldnt inflict that on others. because i just cant. i cant do it.

i know we cant be perfect. i know we dont have to be perfect for God to use us. i just feel like im somehow too imperfect. im not a leader or an administrator. i want to be a counselor. i want to have relationships with my friends, and im not the kind of person who can juggle fifty different friendships. and i wont sacrifice any of you.

so i'm not going out for RA...

a conversation

Lord, please dont let me go. im sliding back, Lord. please dont let me go.

sometimes you just have to go forward. no matter how easy or inevitable the slide backwards is, sometimes you just have to not slide. dont do it, lauren...its your choice. you want to be weak, you want an excuse to let go...to not work at it anymore. but i wont give you one.

it hurts.

its supposed to. its called healing.

will it ever not be there?

no.

why?

you remember the night you sat there and battled with yourself. looking down on the lights of chattanooga?

yeah.

you had a choice. you made your choice. you knew how i wanted you to choose and you disobeyed.

im sorry.

i know. i know it hurts. but you chose what to do. i didnt stop you.

i wish you had.

listen to me next time, dearest. listen and you wont feel this way.

i think it should go away. it should be like a speed bump. you get over it. sure its uncomfortable but you get over it and forget it. but its not. its like a scar. like a burden. like that dull ache in my side that sends me to the hospital every few years. except they have medicine for that ache. they have really great drugs that make all the pain go away...well almost all the pain. i want to drown this in drugs...but thats too easy isnt it?

i love you.

but it hurts.

i know. i love you, dearest.

i know. but it hurts. will you ever let it stop hurting?

....

why arent you answering me? why cant you tell me? why cant you promise me what i ask? i dont want to think anymore. i dont.

you need to love me.

i try. you know i try.

i know. you need to love me.

fine. i can say it a million times over. millions of times. but i cant make myself feel it, God. you are going to have to do that. i need you to pursue me. i cant make myself love you. i cant. goodnight now... i love you.

i love you too, dearest. good night.

a strange thought just occured to me...

have i become something i am not? or have i become closer to who i am? for so long i wanted to be what i just saw in myself...but now that im there, what the hell am i supposed to do? has all of my striving to change the shyness that plagued my past finally pulled me through that curtain that was my insecurity? or am i just acting again, acting well enough so that even i cannot tell the difference?

perhaps its just a novel situation. with all the right players.

i like watching people sleep in the sunlight.

that story i wrote over break...very rough, be warned

the gentle chords from her favorite song drifted faintly from the computer as she packed up the rest of her things. she would leave the computer for last. she needed the music too much right now. it was the only thing keeping it all in. like a dam, a fragile dam made of sticks. thats how she saw the music. the gentle lulling of the guitar. she couldnt let herself think now. just pack. keep packing.

her back started to ache from the repetitive bending and lifting. the closet looked so empty and forelorn. somehow, it didnt read as a closet without clothes in it. just the bare metal rod with the mismatched hangars swinging slowly back and forth. she couldnt take them. not enough room. all she had was the car to take everything.

she always hated packing. she ended up realizing how little she really needed and comparing that to how much she actually owned and packed was depressing and frustrating.

a sound came from downstairs and she froze. every nerve tensed as she strained to listen. not daring to lunge at the computer to turn the music down, she waited, hoping to not hear his footsteps.

"please dont let him be home yet. please." she pleaded with silence that met her ears. this was the worst possible time for him to come home. she was supposed to be done when he came home. car packed, tragically beautiful, leaning against the car with tears staining her cheeks. he was supposed to run to her and beg her to tell him why. but they both knew why. well, she thought they both knew why. it wasnt as if they had actually been in contact with each other. it was amazing how far away you could be from the person on the other side of the bed.

now would be the most perfectly awful time for him to get home. "of course," she thought, "it would be a fitting end to a relationship of bad timing." things were always happening at the worst possible moments with him. she shuddered at this thought, and pushed it from her mind. she steeled herself for the confrontation she was bound to have. just a few more seconds left before...

but nothing happened. no footsteps. no door closing. no keys hitting the table. nothing. she stood, slightly shocked that things might still actually work out like the pretty little picture painted in her head. she shook her head slightly to clear it, and turned to attend to the cardboard boxes surrounded by her massive collection of useless things when she stopped. "no," she said aloud, "no, im done with this." she was fed up with all of the things before her. too much of it was "theirs," and thats what she was running from. grabbing her duffel bag, she stuffed a few shirts, a pair of jeans, her contacts case and her makeup bag into it. the big duffel sagged with emptiness as she unplugged her laptop, cutting the music off mid-chord, and shoved it in her old bookbag along with her power cord and phone charger. quickly, she grabbed a little, yellow postit and scribbled out a message to him telling him to give the rest of her stuff away if he didnt feel like burning it.

"that was a really dumb way to word that." she thought to herself as she headed for the car, grabbing her keys and purse off the kitchen table. as she turned towards the front door, a soft mewing noise cut through the silence of the house and made her jolt. she looked around and saw the little seven week old kitten staring up at her from its empty bowl. its hungry mewling begged her with all the innocence a tiny kitten can possess. she stood there, unable to move. the little kitten trotted toward her and she grimaced with pain as it wove itself between and around her ankles. looking back over her shoulder and out the window to see if he had pulled up yet, she quickly reached down and scooped up the little, crying thing and tucked it close to her chest, under her neck. the gentle purring made her eyes prick with tears.

"why am i doing this?" she thought. "why am i taking him with me? what good does it do to leave all of 'our' things only to take the kitten? of all things, the kitten is the one that most needs to stay." but she hurried on with the gentle, purring warmth under her chin.

amazing that even their song playing as she was packing was unable to crack the hard shell she had wrapped herself in. not even the most pining and painful lyrics had made her cry. she wanted to a little, just to justify that she was actually in pain, and not just that horrible numbness that engulfed her. amazing, to her, that going through all the things that reminded her of him and the small little life they had tried so awkwardly to build together wouldnt make her cry. but, as she walked hurriedly to the car with tears streaming silently down her cheeks and onto the kitten, she wondered at how that round little ball of fur could somehow mean everything to her. wrapped up in its tiny little body were all the things the artifacts upstairs should mean, but somehow didnt retain. all the feelings, all the goodness they had together, was, in her mind, that helpless creature she cradle so gently. and even more amazing to her was that she chose to take the kitten with her. she didnt want to remember this, she told herself. this was ending and supposed to be forgotten. the kitten was the last thing she needed to take with her. but she merely held the little body closer and quicked her already quick stride down the walkway to her car.

the walkway was damp. the rain that had fallen while she was packing (incorporate in beginning; distant roll of thunder as a theme...getting fainter and fainter) had ceased at some point without her notice. it was a warm october day. warm for october at least. the coolness from the rain was not yet sharp enough to cut through her light sweater. she struggled awkwardly with the wet door handle, trying to balance her two bags, and almost stumbling as her backpack slipped to one side and her purse dropped from her shoulder and into the bend of her elbow. still cradling the kitten, she slammed the door of her car shut, and turned to get in the driver's side.

the crackle of the tires slowing down on the wet road made her stomach drop. she grimaced, then quickly tried to compose her features to the emotion which she wished to show. she didnt want him to see her pain, especially since she had only just seen it herself.

the black honda pulled slowly up the driveway with a hesitancy that she knew was from the sight of her standing there, hair disheveled, looking nothing like the tragic beauty she had planned to. caught halfway in her flight, guiltily standing there with the little grey kitten tucked close to her chest. she had meant to be very forthright in her flee from the relationship. she had meant to wait until he got home. she had meant for him to see her standing there with an honest expression of her logical decision to leave him and all that they had become. but instead, she met his face with hers twisted with pain and tears streaking her cheeks with a little purloined kitten clutched so desperately to herself.

"Ellie," he questioned hesitantly, "what..." trailing off, he stood there, still taking in what he was seeing. Trying to process it all and sustain intelligent conversation seemed to be too much.

the kitten started mewing and squirming to be put down. the sight and sound of as large a beast as a car had frightened him. she bounced him gently and hushed him without thinking. she was frozen to the ground. she couldnt think of any plausible course of action or fitting sentence to interject with. so she stood there, waiting.

James looked at his fiance standing there with the little kitten held so closely to her. he could gather from her pained expression that something big was happening. she looked so scared. and he couldnt tell why. God dont let me be the reason for this. he prayed.

"im leaving," she blurted out. damn it, she thought, what the hell happened to staying quiet and waiting. that was possibly the worst way to say it. nothing like how she had seen it in her head. though, by now, the picture in her head so clashed with the tableax now set that she decided to forget the whole thing. "dont ask me why, James, we both know why."

"okay." he said.

she was nearly knocked down by the response. what? she thought. she'd fully expected him to blow up then and there, yelling something like 'what the hell do you mean dont ask why? of course im going to bloody ask why!" but, this single, simple word. he was letting her go. she scoffed at her expectation as soon as she realized what she had expected. when did he ever show emotion? when did he ever go out on a limb, even for her. when did he ever stick it out in an uncomfortable situation? why the hell had she expected him to do it now?

"okay" she said.

why the hell is he just standing there. do something! yell at me...dammit, ask me why. she'd been wanting to tell him why ever since they first started having problems. ever since they first started dating. she wanted to tell him why. but she couldnt, he had to ask first. he had to ask. why wont you ask? she pleaded in her mind. i just want to tell you why.

he stood there with his hands in the pockets of his grey slacks. no tie today. just the nice shirt. the suit coat was still in the car. he'd forgotten it, apparently, when he saw her. he glanced off a little to his right and then at his feet before meeting her eyes again. she just stared. every ounce of her was concentrated on the silent wish for just one word.

no really, im okay

seriously. im fine. i just relapsed for a night. ok, well im not fine, but im not...oh hell, i dont know. right now im tired. i cant think. the previous post was brought on by a long conversation and another mention of the word stalker. i know i know. i f.ucked up. im sorry. damn it all, do i have to be reminded? why cant it have just never happened? im not sure why or when or ...im really tired. i cant keep a thought for longer than...

good night. northshore tomorrow. it makes me happy.

heaven forbid...

----.