"Press Play"

I feel so full, tonight. I couldn’t tell you what exactly it is that I’m full of, but I feel like I’m going to burst. I haven’t really been sure of anything, lately and I kind of like it… 

Is that terrible?

I am not sure about what’s my next move or what I feel and I’m not emotionally tied to anything or anyone and I feel good because anything can happen. All I know is that my eyes itch, “Open Your Eyes” by Bobby Caldwell is on repeat and the stars winking at me from the dark depths of the sky are my lovers.

They sing down to me, somehow luring me with their tinkering melodies– much like how the ocean swells at the thought of her moon. 

The night envelops me in it’s dark and sends me away into the cool of it’s bosom. I sob. It’s beautiful. I am alive. I feel like a mirror to that star winking and kissing me. 

I have nothing to say, just a forever and dark to get lost in and feel my way through.

As cool as the tree-combed breeze that dances around my chilled cheek.

Swollen.

Burst.

.

"The Art of Forgetting.."

Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind…

These cats were onto something when they came up with the concept of this book turned film.

If it were possible to erase the wonderful memories of someone (friend, family member, significant other) so that you no longer have to agonize over the void those memories created would you jump at the chance?

On the one hand that sounds like a pretty good quick fix. To continue in life as if the person you miss never existed– as if your heart never danced with one another…to be free from the emotional grip that they may not even realize that they have on your heart.

To not spend hours upon hours tossing and turning thinking about where everything went wrong, why you weren’t good enough, why you fought when the other person didn’t fight for you, why they can clearly move on to tussle with other hearts, why you were kept a secret but your love was on display for them, why they keep ignoring, why you can’t forget a person who has clearly forgotten about you… why you have to pretend to be happy for something that causes you so much pain… why it’s taking you so long to move on, when it took thoughts for them…

…or regret the words you once said with all sincerity about how they were “like hearing your favorite song for the very first time”—they were that for you. How they were a great find, how you agreed to make room for them, how saying their name would mean they’re permanent and how you meant that with every fiber of your being…how when you’re with them it’s just easy, how they were all you could see…

To not have to smother the smoldering pain in the crack in your chest with alcoholic beverages to laugh, or to not have to entertain random men at happy hours just to feel beautiful or interesting or worth a conversation—worth something, to not have to patch up the place they once occupied… or busy yourself so much so the sorrow won’t catch up and gag your smile. To not have every future relationship affected by the trauma of your first real heartbreak and abandonment.

To not have to think it’s unfair that their names and many faces play so much in your mind, while you are just a faint memory in theirs—a familiar scent. The torture of annoying your friends with the mention of their name, while you doubt your name even comes up in conversation…why are you so forgettable?

To get rid of the what if’s and had I not’s… wishing you didn’t fight so hard for someone who let you just go without so much as a word raised against others’ doubts…”maybe I should’ve listened to everyone else”…but the truth is you took a chance and lost… you followed a hand leading you, and didn’t know what to do when that same hand now pushed you away…

…And how quickly they could push you…

To rid yourself of always feeling the need to go back to check on them— to not really know why or what you’re looking for, exactly. To check up and see how they’re doing with life, because you honestly care—looking at projects excited to see progress for the next one. Wishing to share your own achievements and accomplishments, but you two aren’t speaking. Seeing something that reminds you of inside jokes you shared or seeing something that they would appreciate, but not being able to share them with anyone but yourself. To have to fight calling, messaging, texting them because what good would that do? What would you say? They wouldn’t answer you and let’s face it…you asked for this…

To not have to revisit the memories created, dialogue exchanged, photos taken, music shared… you didn’t want a memory– didn’t aim for it. You wanted, worked for, aimed for now.

See, this isn’t about forgetting someone because their presence was detrimental to you in any way. It’s about forgetting someone because their absence is, seemingly, unbearable. Their impact left such an impression, that they’re absence leaves a gaping hole… Seeing them interact in common circles as if life without you goes on, while you are forced to adjust the simplest of tasks to make it through your day. They’re flourishing and you’re gathering your heart ripped apart on the caved floor beneath you being forced to move out of theirs…

You wish to forget because you deserve the peace and happiness that they experience that comes along with the absence of you, too… you too.

And, maybe, if you never interacted with them, you wouldn’t know what you were missing… if only you could master the art of forgetting…

…But then again, would you?

…maybe not…

"The Enigma"

A vertical line set on the right,

The standard

A shorter horizontal line to meet at the base

The support

Space set in between that and a gaping hole to the right,

It’s mouth as open as a hungry heart

Shocked

To the right, two lines originate from the same place,

Harmonious

Deciding to go their separate ways

One set on Northwest, The Other

Northeast

To the right, a vertical line segment

Attached

To three shorter line segments

Hanging on for dear life

One at the very top,

One at the very bottom,

And one in between,

Guarded.

Lost in a sea of symbols and paired with hatred,

Deities and Atheists alike…

Sought out and mixed with images

One night stands, multiple shareholders,

A hunger never being satisfied, the deep colors;

Red and blood,

Images as desperate as death and as wet as tears,

Wilted flowers and bleeding backs,

Wanted no matter the swollen gorging eyes and internal bleeding,

Sharing of self, loss of treasures, crumbled tissues,

A lifetime of nomadic living…

The only home housing the lost,

Harboring in what we run from…

Seen and felt and tasted and heard and smelled–

Still no one knows what this is.

That Awkward Dance...

How do I know if I have truly forgiven someone?

What does forgiveness really mean?

I hate distance. I hate for there to be awkward tension and it’s killing me to have to do the things I know I have to. I understand that by giving myself the opportunity to heal, I am running a risk here. The risk is that I will have lost someone very important and dear to me.

My care and concern for them was never up for questioning. I was always sincere and willing to put my heart out to run the risk of being abused and uncovered… but at some point I realized that I had to do something different. The constant blows to my heart was not working anymore as I sign that I was loving. Why does pain have to be that. Why can’t the reception of love be my marker that I loved?

So, my usual fix for this is to be everything you want me to be. You hurt me, but you want to be my friend and I don’t want to lose you, so I’ll sacrifice my sanity and emotional well-being and stick around. I had to come to grips with the fact that I’m worth more than a “side”…or an alternative option.

I’m not good at cutting of people. I still care. I still speak. I reach out despite how I feel on the inside. 

I still love them.

That ice cold feeling of walking past someone who doesn’t acknowledge my presence– act like our hearts never shared the same dance. Awkward stepping around trying to avoid the truth of the situation… being blatantly ignored as if my reaching out is not a major sacrifice to mend something with my offender…

This hurts me.

I clearly have to find the balance… I am quick to forgive, but quick to punish myself…

I just want to love them. It should not be this complicated.

"...Leave Me No Room for Doubt..."

All I’ve ever wanted was to be wanted. 

For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to be that person that someone couldn’t imagine being without. I find myself on the opposite end of that, more than anything else. I make a permanent place for people who only wish to stay temporarily– or periodically.

I see the signs. I know too well when people have that itch to leave, but I refuse to leave. I fight for their affections– their attention. I should be interesting enough to hold your attention, right? Why am I not that interesting to you?

I never understood it. I give you everything you want, even denying myself of much… and still it isn’t enough. How can I be what you want? 

You were everything to me. Even your flaws were loved.

For years I’ve been searching for that approval. I see everything; skewed facial expressions, puzzled glances, delayed responses, indifference, offensive thoughts brought to life in tight words and raised voices, furrowed brows, frustrated bottom lips and I begin to panic. I knowthe signs. I’ve experienced this cold for so long I’ve begun to believe that this will be the cycle until the death of my heart…

…but it never dies. 

You’d think I would detach myself the moment I pick up on it– the scent of the death of something that never got a chance to live. No. Instead I hold on tighter fully believing that if given the chance they will show me that I’m worth “it”. 

Affirmation never comes. 

Instead, cold fingers peel away from my grip one finger at a time, leaving bare and covering all of myself. 

It’s ironic, really. I give so much and have so little–even so little to give… but I still give.

Why am I not dead? Why can’t I be bitter? Why do I want to embrace the ones that offend me, most? Why do I want to run up to them and shout at the top of my lungs, “I LOVE YOU!!!” Why do I melt at the cold touch of others? Why is my beaten, bloody, broken heart not calloused? What’s wrong with me? 

Why do I believe the definition of love a painful one? That’s all I’ve known… That’s my norm. I probably wouldn’t even know what to do with a love that is gentle and sweet and kind andsoft and comforting and assuring and affirming… 

I obsess over the comfort and security of others. They must know how beautiful, wonderful, unforgettable, irreplaceable they are… and, secretly– maybe not so secretly I want the same…though through action. 

It’s why I fight so hard. You will see how much you’re worth to me, how much of a loss I would experience…No one fights for anything anymore. I don’t want easy. I want work and arguing and tears and sacrifice and cloudy days and commitment and broken finger nails and over thinking and lost sleep and “I almost walked away, but then I realized…”– I want it all.

I want love. 

The true fear: I don’t want you to hold me because once I nestle myself into your warm, secure embrace, you’ll feel the weight of me and pull away…landing me flat on my face.

So let me give you all I can. I will initiate conversation. I will chase you. I will fight for you. Take what you want until I’m spent…that way I won’t miss what I never had…I won’t see how you won’t fight for me…

Avoiding the all too familiar “No, please don’t leave me…not you too… Am I not good enough? Please stay…”

All I ever wanted was to be wanted. 

"...WAKE UP!!!"

I realize that had I taken the proper steps to taking care of myself last week, I would feel much better than I do, today. When my body came down with a cold and began to fight the good fight what did I do to help the situation? 

Nothing.

I wasn’t getting the proper rest I needed, I wasn’t taking any medicine and I didn’t eat much of anything. During my times of being sick, I tend to just give in to what my body wants (or in this case doesn’t want) and I don’t pay much attention to what my body needs (nourishment, rest, medicine, etc.). After a while, my body began to eat itself. I lost a lot of weight last week and I’m still working to gain that back (sometimes I have to remind myself that I am hungry or that I should eat…even if I’m not hungry).

The same happened with my Spiritual health. 

I went down fast. I became spiritually sick. I sought no nutrition, and didn’t give myself what I needed, but instead what I wanted. What I did not want was to read my Word. What I did not want was to seek God. What I did not want was anything spiritually beneficial. So, I began to eat at myself– thing of the flesh. I sought comfort in music and movies and tissues and even sorrow. 

Luke 22:39-46
New Century Version (NCV)
Jesus Prays Alone

39 Jesus left the city and went to the Mount of Olives, as he often did, and his followers went with him. 40 When he reached the place, he said to them, “Pray for strength against temptation.”

41 Then Jesus went about a stone’s throw away from them. He kneeled down and prayed, 42 “Father, if you are willing, take away this cup[a] of suffering. But do what you want, not what I want.” 43 Then an angel from heaven appeared to him to strengthen him. 44 Being full of pain, Jesus prayed even harder. His sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground. 45 When he finished praying, he went to his followers and found them asleep because of their sadness. 46 Jesus said to them, “Why are you sleeping? Get up and pray for strength against temptation.”

I’ve read this scripture plenty of times before as I’m sure many are familiar with it. Though, for some reason it spoke to me in a different way. 

Jesus’s followers were sleeping because of their sadness. For a while, I’ve been feeling spiritually… “asleep”. My response to my sadness has been that of shutting down. I am not hungry for God as I was before, and actually I became angry with God. I didn’t want to hear the cliche Word of encouragement from anyone, for I did not believe it. I did not want to pray– I was tired of praying. “Where has prayer gotten me?” I didn’t want to be around anyone that would push me to read, pray, cry… i just wanted to be left alone.

I’ve been “sleeping” on my walk… and I actually have not been walking, but laying still. 

Jesus sees his followers asleep and asks them why they are sleeping. He tells them to get up and to “pray for strength against temptation.” 

Again, we all know what Christ is speaking of here, however it spoke to me differently, once more. 

God is commanding me to wake up (get up) and pray for strength against temptation, but what temptation? When I slip back into my depression, I have the choice to do one of two things. I can either feed the depression, or I can use my strength to fight it. What is more tempting, what is easier is to just feed my sorrow. I will listen to sad music. I will cry in bed. I will not eat because I’m not hungry. I will give into my fears of becoming a bother to someone else and disconnect myself from everyone else. I will not fight.

For a while, I have been sleeping. I have left myself susceptible to any and everything imaginable. Ten thousand armies of bitterness, self-hatred, suicidal thoughts, envy, sorrow, and things of the like have been making advances toward me while I sat there with my eyes closed. How can I fight something that I can’t see or that I choose not to see? 

I can’t. 

I would have lost that fight and been taken over by more than I could handle and would lose more than I intended to. “Rest” would not be enough for this sickness. I choose to be proactive instead of reactive.

And I know this fight is going to be far from easy but I’m on my way to a healthier me. I’m giving my body something to fight with…

I actually ate breakfast, this morning. 

I actually read my Word, today.

Day...TODAY: ..."This is NOT the End..."

Today I took a visit to my old elementary school, Kenmoor Elementary School.

I pulled into the tiny school parking lot and got out of my car. Immediately turning the corner to the playground, I was hit with the scents of my past. I was taken back to a time of runningfrom bullies, catching caterpillars, calluses from monkey bars, “accidentally” throwing the ball into the woods, just so I could explore what things played in the shade. I saw the blacktop that we used to line up on before we were allowed to play and before we went back into the building. I saw my name that I had written in in chalk so many years ago, and I remember everything being so much bigger back then. Everything looked so much smaller– even the building seemed too tiny to house all of the faces that flooded my mind. 

This situation–this place in life, seems so much bigger than it will look further into the future. I thought Elementary school would never end. Middle School seemed so out of reach, High School seemed like a forever away in my elementary school years. 

This reminds me of how little my human eyes can see. I have no idea how I got here, how I grew up, how I got out of elementary school, for that matter. All I know is that I’m here by the grace of God. While I was running and ducking from my bullies, God sat on the side smiling and watching after me. He had His plan for me, even when I thought my world would end when I couldn’t go out to recess. He knew I’d be here, in this spot. He knew that I would visit my days of young, and be reminded of His plan in my life– of His sovereignty.

This place that I’m in looks so big. I have no idea how I’m going to get out of here. I have no idea how I’m going to overcome this, or where I’m going to end up. All I can hold onto is the hope that God will continue to mature me and I will look back on this place and realize howsmall of a place this was.

However, this place is essential in laying the foundation to the wonderful things that God has in store for me. Most of the things I apply to everyday life, today, I learned in my elementary school days. How to add, subtract, long division, use context clues, spell, make friends, tie my shoes– all of these basic things I’ve learned at Kenmoor Elementary School.

You look at a child in amazement at how a scrape of the knee can cause them to think they’re dying. I spoke of how denying me recess would bring about the “end of the World”… No I’m not calling my issues small or insignificant. The child still feels the sting, it still hurts when you bend it too far, it could become infected if not properly cared for (that’ll preach to me all day long…lol), but what I am saying is that an adult can’t deny that a child is suffering something serious when that experience is real to them.

You don’t tell a child, “Little Girl hush! Your knee is bleeding, but people are being murdered out here…” NO! God is the same with us! We cry and mourn over what God sees as “Spilled Milk”, but He still cradles us, and comforts us, and empathizes with us EVEN THOUGH He can definitely see the “better” He has for us.

And for that, I’m grateful.

I need not rush out of this place, but take the time to suck up every ounce of wisdom and healing and maturation I can. 

Yes, this place sucks and it’s pretty painful. Don’t rush your process (words said to myself, as well), appreciate every detail…

Please believe that I will come out even more beautiful than before. 

I hope this made sense…

Here’s the link to a song my friend recommended…enjoy.

“This is not the End” – Gungor

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJfiXhI5Uiw

Day 6: ..."The Tale of 'Cata(lyst)clysm'..."

So, I am cheating today by writing 2 posts…we all know I didn’t write yesterday, so let’s move on from here…

I don’t know when I’m coming back, or if I’m coming back. Honestly, it feels good to be “away”. I don’t accidentally see things that I don’t want to see, I don’t have to be bothered with things I care not to be bothered with… I know I may sound a bit selfish, right now…but I don’t apologize for it.

I plan on moving, soon. I am not sure where, but I just don’t want to be around here– around “pain”. I don’t want to be around anything that reminds me of pain. I understand that painful things happen no matter where you are, but right now it just seems like I have to go. There is nothing benefiting me by staying here. 

I was having lunch with one of my friends last week and we were mulling over our goals for the end of the year. I listed some goals like, working on music, continue writing, finish out the semester with all A’s, but my number one goal for the end of this year is to “just be okay…”

I’m not okay. No matter how hard I smile, and how fast I run, and how little I eat, or what movies I watch, or money I spend, or clothes I buy, or how much time I spend with my friends… I end up feeling empty inside. The pain is still set in the bottom of my stomach, I’m still trying to calm myself down with deep breathing, I’m still trying to swallow lumps lodged in my throat.

It’s not like I’m not trying. And spare me the whole “other people have it worse off than you”, speech…honestly that solves nothing. I’m over people telling me to “get over it” and to “just deal”, especially when I’ve been there for them in their time of need and gave them all the time they needed. Who am I to call your issues stupid, or small, or dumb? All I can do is try end empathize with you, and be that ear or that arm, that shoulder, that friendly face… If you don’t feel led to do that then we don’t need to talk then. Anything else is just going to make me feel worse…

Give me time. Give me space. This has been a long time coming.

If this annoys you, you have a choice of not continuing to read. I would not be offended. Honestly (aside from the people who follow my blog) I have no idea who’s reading this anyway, so I would not be offended.

This “sadness” is much deeper than the surface issues swirling around in my head. I cry at least three times a day. Sometimes I can’t breathe. I am not motivated to do much of anything but move away, which can only be done when I graduate (so school is taken care of). 

I don’t know who to trust, these days. I don’t even trust myself…

The Christian in me understands that what I’m going through now will probably be used for the betterment of someone else. The Christian in me understands that this is bigger than me, that someday this will be added to my testimony to help bring others to or closer to Christ… I get that…but can I just be real for a moment?

I am sick and tired of being a catalyst for people. That’s all I’ve ever been, all my life. You may think I’m over exaggerating, but this has been my life. I live my life to push others forward and marvel at the progress and lovely lives other people lead…

In chemistry, a catalyst is a substance that causes or accelerates a chemical reaction without itself being affected. It is something that causes activity between two or more persons or forces without itself being affected. It is a person whose talk, enthusiasm, or energy causes others to be more friendly, enthusiastic, or energetic. 

I told one of my friends that I actually resent the fact that I have been the “catalyst” for so many people for so long. I look around and people who have used me, abused me, and have done wrong to me have been catapulted into their “better” and have the nerve to turn around and thank me for it.

“If I never did this to you I wouldn’t have been here/gotten this/understood this about myself/etc.”

Usually I’ll smile genuinely for I’m happy that these people finally came to an understanding of themselves, or entered a better life for themselves, or are making out wonderfully… but too often I look around at what I have left with; a broken heart, a mess I’m left to clean up, questions concerning myself and my self worth…

A couple of smiles and “thank you’s” have seemed like that was enough before, but I realize that those experiences, whether the people meant it or not, turn out to take more out of me than I had liked to notice. 

I’m always someone’s “rest stop”, so to speak. These travelers seek me out, find nourishment in me and rest, and “different scenery”, and I give and I give and I give… I replenish, I provide company, give a little tour of the area, a little background history with so much excitement…but at the end of the day, their stay is only temporary and the loss is great. They’re gone and what was the trade-off? A good time? A couple of laughs? A couple of “touristy” photos?

Their mission was never to stick around, but to get refueled on what they needed and to move on… to their desired destination…

…But I’m stuck. I’m stuck in this lonely town, waiting for the next rush of visitors to come on in and load up on what they need…hoping that maybe this time someone will appreciate the area enough to stick around for a while.

No one should have to live a life like this…not even me. I’m worth more than a visit.

I’m worth the appreciation, commitment, assurance, love, reciprocity…

I’m worth the stay.

Day 5: "Scattered Showers"

Today, I woke up in pain, again. I was on a roll of being “okay” in the morning. So the pain took a mini vacation but I guess it decided to come back. So, I did what I usually don’t do. I flung my covers off of me and got out of bed. That’s a feat in itself. Usually I just end up curling into myself to relieve a bit of the pain in my chest, and roll over into a numbing, restless sleep.

I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to feel like this, but the reality is that I do. I once had something that is now missing. I made myself vulnerable to the possibility of this, but trusting that this wouldn’t happen, but it did.

Today I pulled into my driveway and sobbed. Ugh! I’m over these tears, but more importantly I’m over this pain.

It rained today, and I LOVE rainy days, but for some reason I just wanted to stand in the thunderstorm and do nothing. The lightening made me feel alive and the rain was refreshing. The rumbling of thunder seemed to jolt something in me…

I don’t have the desire to eat anything. I’ve lost 13 pounds this week and all I do is cry and sleep…

I definitely don’t want to go to class tomorrow.

I had a moment, today where I almost didn’t go home. If I wasn’t tied down to school, right now (and had some funds) I would have just kept on driving until I couldn’t drive anymore and start a new life. I would start it away from people who know me, familiar faces and places and start over. Alone. I feel so STUCK!

Today, this pervert that used to harass me when I used to work at Applebee’s (he tried to get me to ride home with him in his “fancy” car, bribe me with money, flatter me with “inappropriate” comments, touch me inappropriately…) came up to me today, and gave me this awkwardly long hug. With his hands placed around my waist, he looked at me and said, “How are you? You don’t ever visit us at Applebee’s anymore.” I felt disgusting. I could have thrown up all over him in all honesty. I felt like something was taken away from me, and I can’t tell you why. You don’t get to touch me like that, and his scent was overwhelming me bringing me back to a time where I used to duck and dodge this guy… yuck.

I saw “This is The End”, today with my best friend, Marcus. It was pretty hilarious. It felt good to laugh. I was experiencing the movie so much so that when it ended and I walked out of the door, my “sadness” was there waiting for me saying, “That was cool. You ready to go, now?”

Sometimes I think that if my life is going to continue to be one heartbreak after another then I don’t want it. I want to go away and I’m not talking anything suicidal. Hear me out.

I’m tired. My heart is tired. I’m tired of crying in my car on the way to and from places. I’m tired of curling up in bed to cushion and relieve the pains that shoot through my chest. I’m tired of busying myself to avoid stopping and dealing with. I’m tired of apologizing because I feel like crap. I’m tired of annoying people because I’m going through it, right now. I’m tired of playing nice. I’m tired of grinning and bearing it. I’m tired of losing. I’m tired of taking blow after blow. I’m tired of myself (I want to jump out of my skin). I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of “taking one for the team” (when has anyone ever “took one” for me?). I’m tired of being so considerate of other people’s feelings. I’m tired of caring so much and I’m tired of putting in so much work to have it crumble in my face by the hand of the one who I was working for… I’m tired of being so open and stupid. I’m tired of always ending up right here…

And I don’t want to be here anymore.

Day 4: Quarantine

Honestly, folks…I’m way too sick and exhausted to write anything, tonight. I spent all day in my bed and drinking fluids but I’m still exhausted…but I made a commitment that I’d write an entry every day. 

Random thoughts: Our insecurities, our “baggage” and our flawed ways make us beautiful. I’ve always been able to see the beauty in other people’s “imperfections”, but always struggled in seeing the beauty in my own. I always believed that my imperfections and flaws push people away from me.

I once had a guy break up with me and one of his reasons resting in the fact that my “testimony is too intimidating”. Right. What am I to think of that? Is it my fault I’ve been through all of the things I’ve been through? If anything, why don’t my battle scars make me a much more beautiful person?

I struggled with this for a while. So, I believed that I was always, “too much” for people. Of course I have the few around me who know my story and can see where I am, now and can celebrate with me for the deliverance, growth and survival from things in my past.

Let no one make you ashamed of your scars for there is only beauty that blossoms on your skin. Your scars make up the person you are, today and there is no reason to be intimidated. 

If I can have a “girl” moment… I am excited for the man who won’t see my battle scars and struggles as intimidating, or as my weakness, but he will respect me for the strength I have pumping through my veins. He will not feel the need to “fix” me, for this would only overwhelm him and bring about frustration as he “plays God”. Instead he will be willing to stand beside me, be patient with me as God works on those things and places that only He can “fix”. I never look towards a man to fix me, just to accept me for all the ugly places, as well as the beautiful.

I don’t know, guys. I”m trying to remain hopeful, but this “intimidation” thing is something I’ll never understand.

Remember, there is BEAUTY in your scars.

Be patient with every part of yourself.

Love every part of yourself.

Philippians 1:6

New Century Version (NCV)

6 God began doing a good work in you, and I am sure he will continue it until it is finished when Jesus Christ comes again.