Barricade

I dream of her words. My mind imagines their wrappings about me. Neurons firing and I stand at attention as she is called to my arena for attentive thought and curiosity has gotten the best of me.

Her hands wake me from sleep as I come to and realize that they were the dream. The feel of her lips pressing in the dark behind my eyes finding me.

Her smell drifts through the openings settling in my pores. Her presence weighs on me heavily, presently making it difficult to breathe. All I breathe is you. I breathe your unspoken words formed with your forgotten voice and choke on the stench that makes me retch.

Suffocating in my dreams. Languishing in waking moments where I straggle behind pulling my drum beating the rhythm of the pace of my pain. Pulling hands to my face past my waste and self serve to rediscover the feel of what I may deserve.

Alone with the voices that haunt me with wide open eyes, wide open thighs and I beg you. Knees to the floor. Insert here. Pull at the strings. Keep no track of these things. Insert here. 5th gear. And all I hear is her voice in my dreams.

Her voice is a dream. Her voice floating on a dream. And her hands to keep me.

Jigsaw

I haven't cried in quite awhile. Today I couldn't help it.

Today I am crying in the car because it had to come out. Catharsis.

Broken hearts are no joke. Waiting so badly to not be a stepping stone and to be dealt a hand of love that I deserve.

These broken pieces are penetrating through my rib cage. The visceral dispensing itself, making its way to my reality and I want nothing but to be rid of it.

I want nothing but to fade your memory. Fade you from the folds of my grey matter. Smattered truths that I'm forced to choke down and chew.

And I'm at a loss.

All I can see is me fleeing from this feeling because my strength has diminished with your leave and so I've fallen weak. Vulnerable to sweet words that keep me stuck, stagnant, and wretched.

Waiting for the rains to pour and cleanse me, to clear and bring about a fresh air. Because I can't handle this pain that has become so tangible.

Physically wrecking. Internally naked. Stripped of my soul. Soundless screams. Invisible wounds. They drip dirty blood for you.

Watch me pour out for the mirror to see. Listen for my silent screams as my body stills violently and my mind reverts childishly.

Nothing left, but banged up knees and dirty laundry.

All Around

I thought you were engaged with my mind. Then I realized you were fiancé to my thighs and Beyonce has nothing on this single lady.

Keeping me, steeping me and I am exposing myself so that you may fit yourself against the plushness of my vulnerability.

Soft spoken words luring me to the trap of your mystery. I question to satisfy my curiosity and yet I find that you are not satisfying to me.

Wide the fuck open and I'll bring the thread to mend my head draping it from one side to the other drooping and draping unable to pick up the slack

And at this rate my heart will be beating against these heart strings. Wonder when it will be that I learn from these sorts of things.

And my wound will shrink from the thread mending my heart and head sensing the link and realizing that the physical is merely surfacing to make way for the transcendental that will never quite make it beyond the grips of the dismal. Her mass weighing heavy drifting here beneath the waters.

Bringing me to realize that I'm drowning in my need and instead of letting me breathe, you are simply smothering me with your uncertainty.

Roll the Dice

I don't think I was meant to be out of a relationship. Being single is not my issue, it is only an issue when people want to talk to me or show interest.

I'm so used to being in a relationship and having a person like me for me that I have forgotten how to be coy and mysterious. I am clingy and all up in people's asses when that is not really me, nor is it what I want. I realize that I miss the comfort and stability of a relationship.

I miss my Bunny.

I miss cuddles and being able to touch and snuggle to my discretion and to be completely me without any pretense of wit or intelligence. I want to be able to relax in my sweats and not have to have mascara on my face to pretty it up.

I want to be able to not have to keep my living arrangements a secret out of embarrassment.

I don't know how to date. I am still in relationship mode so please people, stop trying to like me and be around me. I find that you are a replacement for what I want. Temporary.

I heard you need to stop doing permanent things with temporary people. So leave me alone right? I'm temporary. You don't want me and I don't want you. I am confused and some days I miss my Bunny. My Bunny I say!

I miss what was, so I manifest it into what is, except what is is not what will be and so I say, "Leave me be."

I like single. I can handle single. I can't handle another relationship. I can't handle this talking business. I don't understand it nor the rules involved.

I suck at this game.

My Mind's Got the Runs

And today I've got nothing but blurbs and thoughts because they have been circling and leaving me disabled, stretched out and feeling labeled. Marked for dead. X marks the spot. The spot dripping red.

There was once a time when I loved. I loved with all my heart, but she didn't want it. It wasn't for her. Love wasn't enough. She wanted more. She wanted in. She wanted the moon and the stars. I thought they were reflected in my eyes, she with me, the sun to my universe. She couldn't see. The looking glass kept her from it and so she looked elsewhere. Elsewhere leaving me barren and laden across the lands of no man. No man's land. And I wonder was it something in your head you were fighting all along? Was it something I wouldn't even if I could?

Fallen tears measurements of untouched years that my mind has already been to, where I've seen a me and you.

All while...

The residual remains resurfacing from time to time just to remind me that you were real and I try to smother it to keep it from going deeper than skin just so I can retell the story so I may pretend it/you didn't travel so far and yet you swim, swim within me, inhibit my creativity and my ability to create connections and bonds fearing severance and bombs. I can no longer take not longs and forever transformed to never.

So I find you...

Looking for a way out just for a way in. Tasting the deliciousness of her flesh eating sin. And what lies will surface as time does pass. Mirror simply reflecting glass.

And I find that,

I'm allergic to liars. I guess that's why my eyes keep watering every time you come around.

So,

Keep pretending that I don't exist. cast me off. Shield your eyes from the dark abyss…

Because I shall emerge.

I shall emerge where...

We lived in a land of make believe formed of broken promises and broken hearts. We emerged jaded and tainted attempting to wipe all feeling away. It rubbed me raw. Raw that soon faded to numb. Now there is nothing. All for the risk. All for the fun.

And now I'm,

Chasing death so she can't catch up to me.

Here I discovered a place a place where I've decided.

Fuck your favor. My occupation does not depend on your spatial limitations.

And that? That is all she wrote.

Fufu

Last night I got a blocked call. All I could think was, "Bunny?" with the thought in my mind I felt weak and helpless.

Some days are harder than others. In the beginning every day was hard. Everyday I felt like pieces of flesh were being ripped away from my ribs. My stomach was constantly unsettled and I lost 5 pounds in that week alone.

I had things to do and I tried to stay involved, but it was the hardest thing to accept. It was heartbreaking to know that all we had worked for could be ripped from me with nothing more than a days notice. To be lied to. To be made to feel loved, to be told there is nothing to worry about and then realize no there is nothing to worry about, only someone.

She got roses. I got cold indifference and chills.

Being places reminds me of her. And my stomach starts to have a fit again. I shop thinking I'm shopping for two. Going out in certain areas always brings tears to my eyes.

I want to destroy memories and yet I let them fester infecting my heart and decaying my mind. Randomly your name comes to me. Visuals of times when you were all mine.

I miss our way of cuddling. I miss your selfish comfort. I miss the silliness, the goofiness, the simplicity that was you and me. I'd even play that game I hate just to have you beside me again.

I miss you wanting me and yet I should have known that you would have outgrown me. I was a temporary luxury. You didn't really want you and me and so I sit in Niagara Falls unable to move for fear that I will be confronted by another memory of what used to be.

Mythos should change their name to Michaels and Elmwood should relocate. I should not be allowed to take walks. Cider should no longer be sold in stores. DuPont would be better shut down and Richmond should remain a city in Virginia and keep itself out of Buffalo. You should too.

I thank God for inner circles and my lack of mingling. I would break down. I always think I'm ok and I thought I would be. You didn't lie about how we felt, but I've come to realize I did. I lied. I thought I wasn't IN love and I couldn't have been farther from the truth.

And now I am sitting nursing a broken heart because I thought this was the way. Easy Street. Now the hole in my heart is my only reminder that I'm alive.

I keep trying to see the positive, but I guess that's why you left. Always angling things in a negative light. Just never able to get it quite right.

People say things and as much as you hurt me, I can think nothing except that I hope you're happy. I hope you think about me one day with fond memories and that she doesn't hurt you. You deserve the best and only you know what will make you happy.

I just remember when it was me. And I wish I still could be.

Catching Up

Today there was a spider in my shoe.

I've also decided to do crack in terms of my fashion. Feeling myself today. The only thing is that my pants suck at fitting because of insanity which I like and then don't. Wah.

I'm wearing a scarf to work- on my head and think I'm super appropriate.

I've come to conclude that the nicotine in cigarettes has finally caught up to me and that they are unnecessarily depleting my bank account.

My stomach hurts so badly and I've already number two-d twice this morning. Now that I'm at work I will have to suffer quietly.

I neglected to wear deodorant today which is commonplace, but on this particular morning I can tell. A little wet in the pits.

I have an appointment this afternoon which lets me get out of work early, but also puts me in a position to have my vagina examined and stretched and frozen and made to feel entirely uncomfortable. Boys just don't know what they are missing.

I think now I will actually do work and get it done and be successful at getting through yet another Monday which for the record I think they should rename Suckday. Makes more sense.

So to all those trekking through a Suckday, hats off to you. You are brave soldiers.

Operation "Call Back"

I don't get boys. I've begun to think that they are the parts on an assembly line meant for the furnace, but they manage to escape and so we are stuck with them in the real world.

They can go kick rocks as far as I'm concerned.

So about two days ago I am stuck in some "rush hour" traffic on main street, just a little congestion, enough that I start playing a game on my phone.

Next thing you know, through my rolled down window I hear, "I wish I were texting you." Of course I turn my head, he was screaming. I say nothing and look away. Take me away Calgon. Take me away.

Traffic is still backed up, but now mystery screamer has managed to pull up next to me and I can't go anywhere. No available right turns, no left, can't go straight. I'm stuck. Great.

So the assault continues. "So can I get your number?"

No.

"Why"

Frankly because I'm not interested in a 32 year old man (everyone is 32 nowadays) who assaults people verbally from open windows in home time traffic. It's late and I'm tired and I just don't really want to be bothered. Please mister sir. Please.

Find out his name is Alonzo. Strike one. I'm not talking to anyone who has the name of one of my relatives, especially that of my granddad, dad, AND little brother. It just starts to get weird.

I also am just not interested. I should have been an uber bitch and rolled up my window on him. Damn you hot car. Damn you.

So after I am unable to convince him that I am uninterested, which I thought would be an easy task since I thought it was painfully obvious, I remember a trick my friend taught me.

While in Paris we couldn't kick this straggler. Strangers are cool. Friends were strangers at one point. Not cool when they are creepers. Whatever. So my friend devises this plan. Give him contact information. As soon as you give someone contact info, they go away!

So what do I do? I give up my contact information. Except I go wrong and give correct contact information. He calls me immediately which annoys the shit out of me and then not even two hour later starts texting me asking me what my name is again.

Strike two. Fine whatever. Maybe I'm really missing out in something wonderful. I give up the name. Can't remember anything else significant except for when I wake up the next morning and there is a text from Alonzo. And it's not my bro.

I feel like I don't want texts, unwanted texts early in the morning. It's 8:30 dude. Leave me alone. You don't know if I work or not. You don't know any of that.

So now I'm thinking, how can I make this muther leave me alone? He clearly didn't understand the straight forward leave me alone, so how can I deter him?

Bingo! I got it. I'm going to make myself sound like a sorry excuse for a human being and he will have no choice but to walk away.

I'm thinking this is the perfect plan, until I put it into action and them am forced to remember that boys are the defective parts of the assembly line so all the screws aren't there.

So the kid asks me how old I am. I say 19. He says 29. Yes. Big gap. He doesn't seem to mind. I do. He tells me the age difference between his parents. Idgaf about your parents dude! I don't even care about you. Why are you bringing family into this?!

So he asks if I'm in school. I'm thinking, shit, I am at that age to be in school. Damn, wait... And then I think nope. Not in school at all. So that's what I say thinking that will be great. He asks why and I say I can't be bothered. Not only does this not deter him, he says it sounds like him at my age. Great. Common bond. Just what I was looking for.

He asks where I work. I say Big Lots and Burger King. He has no qualms with this either. I'm beginning to get discouraged. I've gotta come with something big.

The conversation turns to why I'm in these circumstances and I pull out the big guns. "I have kids." Plural. I love it and I think it's going to work except that after I've told him that I have three kids one with the name Shev, short for Shevy, and that my oldest is 6 with two baby fathers and one in jail, he goes ahead and puts blame on the guys for not being more proactive about me not becoming pregnant.

At this point I can't and so I do what I should have done in the beginning. I figuratively roll up my window and proceed to ignore the kid.

If you can accept all those things from someone that you're trying to talk to/be with, then I really can't talk to you because your standards and my standards are at two completely different levels.

When I relayed this story to a friend e said I made myself sound too ambitious. Even though I had food stamps, I had two jobs and wanted to provide for my kids. I was too much of a good person who just sounds like they got dealt a bad hand.

All I'm saying is that 19, with three kiddies is more than enough to turn me away. If the age didn't do it, the kids did and if not the kids, hell I'm really not trying to deal with your psycho baby dad when he gets out of jail. Not do I want to smell Burger King every time I see you.

So that planned backfired royally. And I thought that was going to be my new thing. Oh well. Maybe he just really liked whoppers.

Hot Air

So farting, passing gas, flatulence, it is all a part of life and happens to everyone. Why then are we conditioned to think that it is so bad? I mean I understand the smell and sometimes the sound can be a bit much, but it's just gas. It shall soon dissipate.

Now this is not a call to just start passing gas at the dinner table or out at the bar or any sort of crowded space, but don't squeeze your butt cheeks together so hard that you've adapted kegels for your anus.

So yesterday at work I'm in my office. Nobody has come to see me in quite some time so I'm relaxed, getting stuff done and feeling good. Next thing you know my stomach does a little gurgle.

My stomach gurgles and I realize it is this horrible gas that has been following me around for the past week. Not nice.

So I feel comfortable and safe in the sense that no one is going to come in even though my door is open I let her rip. It was a silent one and I go about my business typing away. Literally thirty seconds later I think I'm in the clear and my boss starts talking to me. I talk back, we do the back forth office talk all the time. No need for panic, except next thing I know is that she comes walking into my office to hand me something and all I can do is will her with my mind to stay away.

The cloud has begun to spread! And it was quiet because it was a bit deadly. I swear something died inside of me. Needless to say she walks right over to my desk and continues to talk to me while my brain is firing questions at her. Questions such as, " don't you smell that?" " why do you keep coming closer?" " can't you leave already?"

I swear she smelled my ass. Feces particles traveling though her nostrils. Gross boss lady. Gross.

Needless to say I haven't learned my lesson as in typing this I let two more bombs go. Thank goodness though this time no one has come around. I think I should air out.

Time for a workday round.

Dollar Amounts

Yesterday was Labor Day. Thank God for these wonderful holidays that let me not have to go to work.

It was week two of insanity yesterday and I swear I should be looking like a model already. I will be so sad if I don't get killer results, but again, it is only week two.

Hopefully by week three. But I have already lost some weight, not much, but it's something.

So this kid keeps messaging me. I don't need this kid messaging me and when I say kid, I don't really mean kid. He is a 33 year old man. I'm 24 dude. We are in completely different realms of life. Chill. Plus I'm not sleeping with you, so stop asking me to come over. It ain't happening. If I see you it is going to be in neutral territory, but after the last bit I think that won't even be happening.

So this kid had been hitting me up asking to hang and I kept having all the reasons why I couldn't. Finally I was like fine, let's go. So we head over to the Blue Monk. Mind you, I was out to dinner with friends already and I'm me so I was a little late. Just under thirty minutes of our agreed upon meet time.

So I come in, order a drink and kid says he's got it. Nope. No you don't. I'm not owing you anything. I got this. He puts money out, I put mine too. Now I never carry cash, so this ten bucks is it. So ok. Thanks for letting me pay for my drink. 'Preciate it.

We get to talking and all of a sudden the convo turns to me being late. Now again, I'm conceding to this meeting to get you off my back and you turn around and tell me that I need to buy your next drink as penance? What the hell? This is not catholic school. This is not church and you're not the pope. How the hell are you telling me that I need to pay penance? And were you not at a bar? Drinking? Yeah ok. So it's not like you looked out of place or were having a miserable time. You were drinking. Penance my ass. And how are you going to make me pay yet you were just about to pay for my first drink?! You sir are confused.

But, as a good person I pay my "penance" not realizing that it was to transcend the whole evening. I am not a gold digger and I don't care for people to do for me, but telling me I have to and losing the air of courtesy just docked you points bud.

Needless to say, I'm not making any efforts to see him again.

Yesterday was dollar day at the Buffalo Zoo. The best friend and I missed that by about two hours. Too busy thrift store shopping and sitting by murky waters.

After being rejected-told you it was a strong point of mine, by the zoo we went to check out the new house. My friend bought a house. It needs work. In lieu of going to see the house I decided we should visit my dad.

Bad choice. He sends us on the errand from hell. We were on a search for peppercorn. Really? What do you need peppercorn for? Nobody needs peppercorn. Just use whole black pepper. Tomatoe-toemahtoh.

It takes forty five minutes and two stores to find this damn peppercorn and there was no generic so here I am paying for McCormick peppercorn for one time use. Gheeze.

We didn't visit long. Enjoyed some mint leaves in a molson and found ourselves searching movie times.

Premium Rush is what we settle on and let me tell you, up until the last ten minutes, that movie was pretty amazing. I particularly like the Joseph Levitt guy and have found my new celebrity crush. That girl from Heros is amazing. I'm not sure about her acting, but she doesn't have to talk.

Finished the night off with a few pages in 1Q84 and it has me wondering why the hell. Where is this going. So I'm excite to read it on lunch today.

Also I tried really hard not to spend money today, but it was either be late or make a sandwich, so I decided to be only fifteen minutes late instead of thirty.

I'm paying for it now.

Today

I am just striking out. Every time I put myself out there I find myself falling on my face. Rejection seems to be my strong point. I think I may be too bold and maybe I am truly selfish because I seem to rub people the wrong way.

I can't keep a girlfriend who was head over heels for me and now every time any one of my friends sees her new girlfriend out, they call me because they think they are helping yet in reality, they are sending me into a further spiraling depression.

I can't keep my more than friend because I am always pissing her off. There is love as an undercurrent that doesn't flow the way it's meant to. And I find myself always on the wrong side of the river.

I decided that maybe I should be going down a path of my past, but then I realize that as my oh so wise mother had once said, that we broke up for a reason, so as much as Bunny has hurt me, I shouldn't have gone back in the first place. As much as I want answers from Cop, he doesn't deserve my curiosity and as for those I never knew, now is not the time to learn. I can't keep dipping back for comfort.

I need to stretch my wings and be honest with myself about what I want because if I don't know, how am I supposed to receive it properly?

What the eff is happening to my life right now? I can't take this internal turmoil. I am too much into my head questioning notions and looking for signs. I basically wanted what I had, but not and now I am feeling all ahhhhhhhhhh and what not and I can't really take it.

I want shenanigans and to move away and how is it that my younger counterparts are living on their own and I live in the basement?! The basement. Screw my big girl job that sleeps me in a twin bed.

Fuck me.

I have six months to turn this all around. Six months.

And fuck the investmentss!!!!!

Birdy

Today I booked a flight to London. I'm so excited!!! I'm also really nervous. I'm still working on my Peace Corps application and the essays still have me hung up. I'm trying really hard just to bang them out and it's not working very well.

I have also been looking at places for grad school to get my masters in clinical psych focused on health care. Currently the place I'm looking is in Boone, NC. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Other options are Chicago and Minnesota, but I want to go somewhere full of life and strangers. It's time to make a new round of friends.

I've really been thinking about the direction my life needs to go in and from the talk I had with my step-dad the other day, I realize that living in the basement is not apart of my life plan any longer. It never was actually. I just kind I defaulted to it.

Things are beginning to look up and I am more excited than ever for the new direction. A breath of fresh air because all Buffalo has for me right now is big fat disappointment.

One day I will be back, but that time won't be for some years. Fly away fly away!

Going the Distance

Last night I couldn't sleep. Last night was weird. 2 a.m. and I'm staring at the clock. Now I'm a sleeping kind of person. I was in the bed by six last night. I could have stayed there until this morning honestly, but the BFF decided that we should hang out. I was content to stay under the covers.

So 7:30 comes around and there she is giving me my wake up call. Ok. Ok. I'm up. Half naked in ripped panties and yup there it goes, my backside exposed. Great.

Fine. I get up, put on clothes. We buy our Florence + The Machine tickets for early September and try to find some couch to surf on. Couch surfing btw makes me nervous, but if I don't have to pay for a hotel room, then I'm good.

After that, it is decided we should eat. I do, but not before a cigarette to my face. Then since it is a Thursday night we have to watch project runway!

During the runway show I get these random texts messages and I've come to realize that I rub people the wrong way. I was told the other day that I'm not meant to be in a relationship. I hear I'm selfish and untrustworthy.

I'm beginning to believe it.

I was also told that I don't know myself and that I'm running away from myself... I had to think about this and it might be true. Not even might, I know that I don't know. I should be taking this time to truly discover what makes me me and not the negative traits of selfish and untrustworthy.

Even though I don't know everything there is to know about me, I don't think I'm running away. No body runs where I'm headed. They disappear there. Besides I don't want to run. I want to be on the road I am meant to go down to help in my definition and discovery of me.

Who knows. All I know is that maybe that person was right. Maybe I'm not meant for a relationship.

Hmmmm...

Soon I shall say screw relationships. One day I'm going to die and relationships won't matter. You don't think when you're dead.

Behind Enemy Lines

This desk job doesn't suit me. I am not as productive as I would like to be. I find too many distractions and not enough work to do although there is enough work for three people to be done.

My mind is cluttered and unfocused. I can not find my direction. I can not find my purpose.

So I write...

I am writing for roses because I think I deserve them. Let their red mend my broken heart. Grasping the stems leaving me pricked by their thorns bleeding to prove the truth. Sustenance found in the smoke, the only comfort my stomach can bear while my flesh lay stretched singed with the dark marks of the burden of unrelenting press that reaches no further than our social depths. As long as I may keep the enemy afar, then the day does not matter as it shall pass.
this pain sifting through my being providing a residual anchor of confidence. And I will have my red. Cheeks flushed, exuding the rush of my efforts and I don't care for the crutch. Instead of roses, carnations for the death, to hide the scent, and take away the stains that will finish and wipe down the pipes. Quiet now. Quietly more. Never after. What for?

Wake Up Call

Last night I gave in. I gave in and put Twilight in. I really thought I was making progress though. I had eaten and everything. Twice yesterday AND snacks.

Right now I feel like dying. I'm dreaming about the situation now too. And even there I have no backbone. I'm not sure what to do. I need to get rid of twitter, instagram, this phone because every time I go into it I am reminded of a lie. I am reminded that there was better.

I don't even have anything in my stomach right now and I feel sicker than sick. I really want this over. I can't take it. I've called off of work once already and contemplated leaving early twice.

I can't focus and my body is betraying me. I want out of this nightmare and for my thoughts to stop consuming me and taking over both my waking and non waking states. My heart can't take it and I'm not sure how much my body can.

Ready when you are reality.

Dine and Dash

If I thought about it hard enough I could throw up my lunch on this side street right now.

For the past few days eating has not been something my body is interested in. Everything makes me feel so sick. I feel so sick.

I know I need to eat so after bite two when I want to be done, I force myself to eat more. I feel worse.

This is not good. I miss my little miss piggy days. I want to enjoy my food again.

Help? :(

Crossroads

Today I feel sick. Today I can't focus and I keep starting and not finishing things. I am currently at work trying to get work done and yet instead I am on here. I have played hay day so many times today, but I'm even tired I that. It's not enough of an escape.

I need a real adventure right now. So I have decided to apply for the Peace Corps. I think that will be it. It will satisfy my desire to help and my need to learn while providing a daily adventure. I'm excited for even the prospect of going.

As a back up I have begun to think about what it is that I really want to do with my life, continue with social work or something else. I haven't decided yet. But regardless, as my back up I have started to look when the next GRE test is in the area so I can take that and start applying to grad school.

If grad school doesn't work out, I still have my third option which is to get the eff out. I have to get out. Buffalo at this time has nothing left for me. I need to make my get away.

When I disappear I'm jumping of the ledge right into the deep end.

True Love

You know you have a problem when you are 24 years old, tired at eight in the evening, but instead of sleeping, you find yourself glued to back to back episodes of Teen Wolf.

Even if you don't know what the show is or that it ever existed, the title alone should be enough to keep you far far away.

It wasn't.

Not only did I watch two full episodes when frankly I should have been on my third dream, I cried. Yup. That's right. I cried. I cried when I saw the little teenagers all in love and happy and lovely and throw up. Instead of actually throwing up, I cried. I cried because I am a baby.

Movie love doesn't exist and that's why they write about it and make it into movies, because movies aren't real.

I think I have embarrassed myself for one night. Headed to dream land now to find my movie love. Hell tv love works too.

:)

Oh, and I can't wait for season 3!

Life; Ain't it Something?

This summer has been especially hard on my immune system providing it with quite a battle trying to differentiate between actual sickness and whatever it is that I am allergic to, so much so that had a coworker ask me yesterday if they caught me crying. As I rub my eye and say no I just have really bad allergies in my best nasal voice, she continues to prod and ask if I'm sure and do I want to talk about it.

Frankly talking to me when I am having an allergy attack makes me want to do nothing more than be mean to people and with urgency because I feel like I am diffusing a bomb in a movie, providing immense frustration since they never know how to detonate bombs in movies usually because all the wires are either blue or red.

I feel like people talking to me during these attacks are arbitrarily telling me to cut the blue wire. They are all blue, so now my concern and frustration are heightened aka I have eye drops and allergy medication that I can only take once a day and the twice to four time a day one wasn't controlling my allergies any better so please, stop talking to me. It's making me claustrophobic. That is all.

Who invented allergies anyways?

Suck It In

One day I will leave this earth. One day I shall perish. From our first breath they are numbered and diminishing. I have come to decide that my impact on the world, of the masses is not that important. My radial impact is greater, for even though my name may live decades even centuries after I pass, things still become lost among the depths of history.

I want those who knew me to know my love of life. To know my delicate spirit and admire me for my loyalty. I want those who will remember me till their own deaths to cherish memories of brash boldness that led to uncontrollable laughter.

I hope that an eagerness to learn effervesces through the very wood paneling of my coffin.

One day my breath will stop, all feeling will leave my body. And on that day I hope that I have made an impact on family and friends and the community I call home. Life is too short not to.

Frnckcudfivkvuslbvi

Yesterday I found myself in a place I hadn't been in quite some time. I found myself in church and not just any church, I was surrounded by Episcopalians. People caught the holy ghost, found themselves speaking in tongues, and the tears were more than overflowing.

I hadn't experienced anything like it in a long while. I realized that this was all foreign to me and that if I were completely removed, coming from a more distant cultural understanding, I would have been frightened at the spectacle at hand.

The music with its deafening command to attention and the following of the congregation, the moans and exclamations produced from a guttural existence within these people. It was overwhelming to say the least and all consuming.

All I know is that I was frightened and I found myself in a place of blasphemy questioning God in the presence of all these believers.

Being around this made me question deeply existentially and the purpose of religion and I just couldn't shut my brain off. The pastor was overly concerned with money proclaiming that the only thing one poor man could do for another was to feel sorry for him. What?! Have you read the bible? Did you know it said you can not serve two masters? Aka don't make money your master. Plus I'm pretty sure the poor men could pray together. Isn't that what religion is truly about, the conversation and dialogue you have with God?

Excuse me for being confused and befuddled, but I refuse to believe your interpretation of the word because another man guided you to walk this way. I shall walk the way I was made to by whom I was made and I can not be force fed your biblical ideations. You are just a man and I do not answer to you.

So yes, I am scared of the cult like air that I encountered because you are sheep and despite the tinge of jealousy for your blind following, I would much rather see the way and trust my Lord than trust a man to know which turn to make.

That's just me though.

Falling star

Sometimes you wish for a life that wasn't meant for you, wish for people that if you had you'd tire of and yet sometimes the allure of what if, the allure of what we don't have makes it that much more enticing and sought after.

We find ourselves in relationships that we know we shouldn't be in complaining about what we do and don't deserve. We have such opinions on what our partners should and shouldn't be. Shouldn't they just be them and not a fabrication of our sick and tormented minds? Shouldn't we just leave instead of trying to make it work? Why do we stay? Sometimes sticking ourselves for life.

Life. Long. Stuck.

Sometimes we wish for wealth, for status, sometimes just to disappear. More often than not we think the grass must be greener on the other side when in reality better the devil you know than the devil you don't. We stray because its easier than working for something worth it, yet we stay because its harder to start over. Why not stay because its worth it and leave for the new start, a breath of fresh air?

We think we need 9-5s to feel fulfilled and successful, that the money will heal the wound of our pride along with the loss of our dreams. The money goes too quickly and when death approaches it isn't money we want near, yet that's what we value pushing all else aside. Just for the status. We lose ourselves in work because that is what we are taught to do. The American dream is supposed to be real though right? So why do I still find myself wishing for that dream. Never satiated. Never satisfied. 

Sometimes we wish for a life not meant for us, with people and things we'd be better without, but we don't know what's good until its been replaced and we don't know that we want it until it's too late.

Live in the moment and sure peek at your neighbors yard, just remember you can always do some landscaping of your own. That's what Home Depot's for.

Yeah. Right.

So this morning I started the insanity workout and let me tell you, it is insane. I can already feel the soreness and it was only an hour and a half ago.

Basically the partner and I have decided that the time has come to get serious about getting into shape. I've decided that being anywhere from 174-183 yes that is my weight range is not ok with me.

To be honest I think I carry it well, but I think 160 would carry even better and gall dang it, mom tried to one up me telling me how she weighed 139 at my age. I didn't have the heart to hell her she may have had a problem being that weight. Six more pounds and I would have shaken my head less.

So we know that weight didn't stay off for mom, I'm just curious to see how long I can stick with the insanity. I really need a jump start. Being big is not fun. And it's not for me. God's speed my friends. Send me wished an prayers. I will need them.

Loco

Someone asked me about a prototype the other day and questioned whether or not I had one. I think that everyone you date before you take the plunge is the prototype because you have to take pieces of each person to get to the one that will actually make the cut.

Even when you find the one worth it to say, "I do" they are still not perfect. Perfection is a thing people talk about and say that they want, but if perfection were real, it would be imperfect for that very reason. Predictability although structurally desired, is simply put-boring. Who wants a perfect mate. Arguments are healthy aspects of relationships. It highlights differences and allows for growth.

The one isn't supposed to fit like a glove. The one is like leather, molding to fit, but a little stiff at first. You come to fit together.

I think I think too much and maybe I should stop. People are not like leather. Bottom line, I have no one prototype. You were not the prototype, only parts of you. I don't want a prototype. Those are for silly people who have a type to begin with. Their is no mold you can fill. Either you make the cut or not.

Snip.

Reflections

I remember there was a time when I thought you were the nicest thing. I remember when I thought I wanted to see if we could be something, when all along I knew that we were nothing and would never amount to anything.

I wanted you because I couldn't have you. I called you mine in moments and in spaces of time because you belonged to someone else. You belonged to fantasy and favorite was something of my dreams. I stitched together fairies and dust and blew on it in just the right light and there you appeared.

Moments that slipped through my wanting waiting fingers and it wasn't you that I wanted or waited for. I thought you were, because I was waiting, because I was wanting, but I was wrong. I thought you were substance, sustenance. You simply made me sick. Stomach flips that I blamed on the union of lips.

I remember when I was wrapped up in you, the warmth of your words that I flocked to and yet they burnt. Burned me and I let it be. Allowed the worse for me. Didn't heed the warnings. Didn't hear your strings singing out to me to simply just let it be.

I couldn't and I wouldn't, but now it is nothing more than a phantom of a memory. Just as I knew it would be. Cut deep, but reality healed me. The reality of you and me.

I remember there was a time when I thought you were the nicest thing. I remember when I thought I wanted to see if we could be something, that you wouldn't forget me, that I meant something, when I thought that I was different.

Then I realized I was.

Monday

So... my coworker comes into work this morning and comments on my new hair cut. He tells me how much he likes it and states that with this style, I should be a model.

As a girl conditioned by the media and raised in American culture and society of the 21st century, of course my returning comment was, "Sure 30 lbs later."

My coworker then hits me with a, "Well you know they do have plus size models."

Damn. I know I'm not a mini, but I'm not plus sized. So that's exactly what I say accompanied with a wtf face, "Yeah, but I'm not plus sized."

The conversation then took a then for the worst for my self esteem.

"Well you've never been a small girl. You've always been big boned. It must be that it runs in the family."

Well damn. Now you're talking about me and my mom? What the hell? This conversation is over. I had to end it with a, "are you serious face."

He may have gotten the hint as he then said, "But you know I think you're beautiful."

Yeah, yeah. Damage done. Too late.

What a way to start off my week. I knew I hated my job.

Work Day Blues.

Do you ever find yourself head first, jumped in the pool in a situation and then later realize that maybe you should have tested the water first?

Funny how things work out. They say that people walk into your life for a reason, season, or lifetime. The difficult part is trying to figure out who fills which slot.

More often than not people are for reasons and seasons. We aren't meant to share ourselves with everyone and imagine how taxing that would be to maintain all those relationships.

Relationships are stressful and the dynamics provide for situations and reflection that not every person can manage through each network made.

When I think about life this way it makes the relationships that do withstand that much more gratifying and fulfilling. True friends, true love in any form is hard to come by. Once you have it, nurture it. It will flourish and grow.

Now I just news people to wear markers or brands of some sort. A big R, S, or L. That would be helpful.

Blah blah blah

So daylight savings time has come once again and I find myself out and about this night. Great. You wanna know why? I'm old people, I can no longer hang, so I want to one, stop spending my money and two, go the hell home because it is five hours past my bedtime. I should have been on my third dream by now.

Speaking of dreams, why am I dreaming about work? And not only dreaming about work and my coworkers, but I am dreaming about work and my coworkers on a Sunday. Now I know tomorrow is Monday and all, but hell brain, Sunday is still part of the weekend and I wish my life away for weekends during the week so I may escape work and my coworkers, so why brain are you going all over active work mode on me? You couldn't wait a measly 24 hours? We will be there tomorrow. ALL day. Just wait, stop being so anxious.

So the clocks skipped ahead, jumped forward, whatever it is that clocks and time do, it did last night. Well why is it that even though it means that I got less than four hours of sleep, why is my body still set to the old time and since I didn't have time to move the clocks in the house ahead last night, I wake up this morning to the led lights staring at me glaring a nice red 7:48.

What the hell?! Is this serious? Why does my body feel the need on the weekends to wake itself up at the crack of I don't want to know this hour exists anymore hour? Why can't my body be like normal tired bodies and sleep until it is rested, not until it has been programmed to wake up. Funniest part is that not only does this damn early rising then require me to at some point in the day take a nap aka waste perfectly good day hours because I have been up all morning aka the useless hours because there is nothing on tv and no one else is up, but during the week, I can not wake up to save my life. What is that?!

So I'm going to need a nap and I know that tomorrow when my alarm is the thing that wakes me up and not my body, my body will be on denial mode, in denial that if I hit that snooze button one more time, I will be half an hour late to work. I don't know what it is. Why can I wake up perfectly early on a weekend, but a weekday? No ma'am. That is a struggle. A true struggle.

I feel like it is a really nasty anomaly. Whoever decided it would be funny to hard wire into humans, or maybe even just me (I was hoping not to be quite so special) the internal clock aka wake up on your own thing, well they, they had a twisted sick sense of humor.

I just wanna sleep ok? So maybe now I'll take that nap.

Passion

Since beginning my new position at the health center, I have had to tell a handful of people that the rapid oral HIV tests we offered them had come back reactive meaning that there was a 99.7% chance that they were indeed HIV positive. Meaning that it was a preliminary positive.

I know these statistics when giving these results and if asked, which I usually am, I have to tell. When I say this number and the .3% chance there is of this being a false positive, you see something. You can feel it. I saw lights go out. The one woman shut off completely. It scared me. You could feel hope being sucked from her frame.

I feel incredibly guilty and selfish because whenever we get a reactive and I have to tell a person what this means and what steps need to be taken, I get nervous so much so that before I walk in the room to deliver the news, it impairs my function. I perspire, my stomach knots up, I feel like I want to throw up and pass out at the same time and yet, when I tell, once that person leaves, my part is over. My anxiety and fear is done, but for them it is just beginning. I have just sent them out into the world with a heavy burden that many will carry alone for a week, fearful to tell and not wanting to accept reality.

When I think about the people that I have to tell, the people that we miss from not asking about testing because of a bias we may have, the perception of risk, the people who refuse tedting because they are fearful of the results, I think about the virus and how easy, through ignorance, it is to transmit especially if we as a society, as a culture are oversexed and under educated.

It is accepted to have sex and we have begun to see engagement in sexual activity at younger and younger ages. For those of us who can remember being 13 and having kissing be a big deal, it's difficult for us to be only a generation away, with our younger brothers and sisters and see their ideals their values or rather lack there of.

That's not the point though, we all have free will and we all make judgements daily. I don't wish that people were not upset to find out their status, especially if it comes back something other than expected, but that expectations be different because of the knowledge we have, that has become universal and that you do not expect it because you are white or because you are married or that you are not a gay man because straight married black women become HIV positive. HIV does not discriminate by the color of your skin, your sexual orientation or preference. HIV does not care if you yourself are promiscuous or monogamous. HIV does not care about age. It cares simply about reality and HIV is real, we as humans are real and that's all it cares about. Everything else is perception, different to everyone, but HIV sees us as we are, human, host to its infection.

HIV is not destiny though. Knowledge is the weapon, lack of stigma, acceptance and understanding can soothe the wave of HIV and placate it to history instead of future.

I feel nervous for the wrong reasons, I should not be nervous to tell someone there is a chance to be HIV positive, I can be their tool, their weapon to fight the disease. I have the knowledge to fight the virus and to keep ignorance at bay regardless of status and the beauty about knowledge is that it is just as infectious and it is the one thing you can continue to give and never lose yourself.

Knowledge. Pass it on.

Just talk

Communication isn't really my thing. I've realized that I'm not the best at it. I keep too much inside because I am so desperately trying to please others and those others that I don't hide from, that I'm not scared to be me with, they get to hear me and shrug it off as of it were nothing.

Most people who know me see a happy go lucky girl, either that or they see anger. I don't show sadness because that is weakness to me. Show a weakness and that is an opportunity for vulnerability to flourish and those who have been wanting a way in to charge and conquer. Not everyone deserves a glimpse, but then again that is why it hurts so much when those let in eff about and trample upon that raw skin.

It has taken me awhile, but I am beginning to see that the world is nothing more than what you make it. Movie love doesn't exist unless you let it, best friends for life only last for so long and happiness is fleeting unless you wake up everyday and catch its coattails and drag it through your day. Grab it and drag it. The effort is worth it. The effort is for your peace of mind.

Solitude is a gift. Company a burden. Simplicity a blessing while complexities breed confusion and chaos. Breathe, smile, and keep moving.

I was with a friend today who stubbed upon this notion of a love addict. I think I may be one or I at least have many of the characteristic traits of one. I fall too hard and too easy. I am needy and can become overwhelming. My over analyzing causes me to push away because I am always trying to figure out what is going on in that maze up there. I think I can be the cure for pent up introverts and I can be enough to bring them out of that and in they end thy will love me. It isn't that I'm ridiculously full of myself, it is just something I believe or rather more times than not truly want to be.

I want to be that someone for someone. I want to learn and be learned from. I want to embody desire, admiration, love. Longing for such things places my mind in a near fantasy state and it isn't healthy. I find myself dealing with things and people that are no good for me.

I'm hoping that soon the cycle will end. I'm tired of doing all I can and investing into the bullcrap relationships that are a dead end to nowhere. Nowhere I tell you. Soon enough. I realize my faults and from there I can only try to change and learn and make myself better.

Life is about living and learning because by the time you're 80 it's time to write your memoirs.