Wednesday, January 31, 2007
I'm the splenda in your sickeningly sugar-coated world
Who am I to assume that my fucked up existence even matters in this
world? Who am I to judge what will one day prove to be important? I’m
nobody… but in the same respect I am somebody. I am a blip on the radar,
a face in the crowd, but I’m different. I feel this fact every single
day. I don’t fit in, and I used to hate that fact, now it’s simply
there. I don’t know why, but I think it was supposed to be this way. I
was supposed to be different, not better, simply different. It’s kind of
like sugar and splenda. I’m the splenda, but even though I’m “healthy”,
someday they’ll discover that I’m only slowly killing you. I wish my
mind would work. This life is getting me closer and closer to the
nowhere I’m destined to end up in. Middle of the road, center of the
highway, waiting for traffic to come and sweep my worries away.
Ventilators are far easier than trying to find reasons for every breath.
In, out, in, out, in… hold it until you burst. Brighten the walls if
not the world. Some say I’m depressive, I prefer antagonistic. I’m out
to show the world that they’re happier than at least one billionth of
the population. Try to outdo me, I dare you to loathe the world as much
as I wish I could love it. We’re opposites, attracting, and it’s about
time you realized we’ll never figure all this out. Broken, blistered,
healed, and tainted. But still wishing on the stars that have already
burned out. Ever notice the ones that burn the brightest are the first
to fade away? I was bright once too… that’s what they’ll say. I was full
of life, and reason, and goals. What they won’t tell you is how I got
here. You’ll learn though. This road, it’s contagious, and you may not
know it yet, but you’re only a few twists and turns away. Life’s ironic
like that, you just have to learn to laugh. Laugh at the heartaches, the
losses, the pain, and maybe someday it’ll give up. Life gave up on me a
long time ago, too bad I’m more stubborn than anyone realized. This is
me holding on, this is me not letting go. This is me in the truest,
barest, most disgustingly honest hues. The truth is ugly, but from far
away I look beautiful. The scars are minute, the darkness shadows all
truth, and you’ll come running if you ever see the paths I mistakenly
took. They’re beautiful, and dangerous, and in the end you’ll see why
your darkest moments show you who you truly are. If you can look in the
mirror and accept your face of darkness, I applaud you. I can barely
manage to glance at mine.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Starting over, or just starting in?
I’m starting off on a new piece of paper so I can wipe clean the
memories of yesterday, so I can forget the girl I was, and become the
girl that I am, or maybe have always been. I’m never true in these
pages, that aren’t even pages, just simply dots and dashes combined to
create a much faster, but less true version of my thoughts. Where we end
up is somewhere between reality and sadness, but somehow still a step
above where we really are. It’s like the words are bleeding so fast that
I’m losing my head before the contents have been spilled. It doesn’t
even hurt sometimes. It doesn’t sting, or swell, require any stitches,
but it sure as hell kills you inside. It kills those places that weren’t
so black, dyes them the wrong shade because of misguided intentions and
fast-paced decisions. This world is broken, and I have only words
bleeding forth much faster than they ever should, the words spewing
forth from my mouth tangling and snagging on the shards of a
relationship that I’m, for the first time unsure of. How does life take
you down such roads? Or is it I that am leading myself to tears?
I also wonder when such talent becomes a bad thing. I’m praised for my mind daily, never on the inside but showered with almost bitter compliments from all those around me. You’re so smart, you’re so reliable, you’re so… different from the rest of us. But am I? I’m the same stupid little girl that wanted happy endings, the same girl that waited 18 years for a man worthy enough to sweep her off her feet. But he’s dropping me, and I wonder if I won’t get carried off beneath the wheels of the carriage that by now should have already turned back into the pumpkin. My dreams are crushing me, or will.
It took me years to steer myself in one direction, and now that I’m a year and half down the path towards something I might really want, it’s killing everything that I thought I would have forever. My goal, to cure the world of it’s misguided intentions of saving itself through means that would never get them to the place they dreamed of. I want to end suicidal behavior, drinking binges, and victims allowing their own abuses. I want to end misguided lives, to cure people of their stupidities almost, but I can’t even see my own. I can’t get past my own, because the ability that enables me to read others, is the same one that keeps me blind from seeing it in myself. I hurt myself every single day. I kill myself inside each day a little more by never being honest, never speaking up, never acknowledging what is happening to me, around me, because of me. It’s always circles, it always was, and I’ll circle back to tell you that it’ll never change.
I am broken, and I do all that is in my power to keep myself that way. I lost a father so drastically that I’ll never recover. It was slow, heartbreaking, and destroyed every chance I had to have a normal relationship in the future. I will always hold on too tight, react too soon, and close up inside every thought that may damage it until I can hold it in no more. That release in the end is wonderful, it’s all out there, and real, like the girl I used to be, but at the same time it’s too much, too soon, too unchecked. I let my brain shutdown for 30 seconds and let it all out, and that’s just it. It’s not me, and it’s definitely not the girl that he fell in love with.
I am a disappointment through and through. I don’t know how to keep a relationship going to save my life, and I may never know. I probably won’t, because the minute that this one ends, as much as I dread the thought that it’s even possible, it will all be over for me. I will prove myself right. Because love doesn’t break the boundaries that so many people believe it does. Love cracks at despair, loss, and change. We can’t control love any easier than we can capture it. It’s alluring, and speaks false promises of a future we’ll never see. It hurts people, and leaves them empty. Maybe in the end we will see that love is what doomed us from the beginning. Love is the real enemy. Love is the war.
But I’ll keep fighting. We’ll all keep fighting. Until there comes a day when the promises stop being whispered, when the twinkles in the eye stop grabbing our attention, when the wits and brains of the boys cease stopping time to show us it may be worth the five seconds to call out his name. The battle will rage on, engulfing generations old and new. It will never end, because love promises to be never-ending. Always and Forever, a contradiction of time and place, of reality. But still my favorite lie.
May he never walk away, or give up on me. I’m still healing, as I see with my knowing eyes that he is too. We’re trying to heal, but the answer lies in letting the other heal it. You must face what makes those tears build, not what sets them finally free.
I don’t really believe in love anymore. When I was little I thought it would cure the world, but after growing out of my naïve self, I see that it is the virus. We let it spread until we can’t handle it anymore. Love can’t be all you are, and I think that’s the biggest problem I’m having. I need for love to be everything in my life, and I need for it to never go away. But that’s a silly childish dream that I need to overcome. I need to grow up, if only in that small sense.
So here’s to loving, in moderation. Here’s to living for me, instead of through him. Here’s to life not being so fucked up. And finally here’s to me, because maybe I deserve it.
Tip back the cup of misery, and take a swallow to set you free,
Jenny
I also wonder when such talent becomes a bad thing. I’m praised for my mind daily, never on the inside but showered with almost bitter compliments from all those around me. You’re so smart, you’re so reliable, you’re so… different from the rest of us. But am I? I’m the same stupid little girl that wanted happy endings, the same girl that waited 18 years for a man worthy enough to sweep her off her feet. But he’s dropping me, and I wonder if I won’t get carried off beneath the wheels of the carriage that by now should have already turned back into the pumpkin. My dreams are crushing me, or will.
It took me years to steer myself in one direction, and now that I’m a year and half down the path towards something I might really want, it’s killing everything that I thought I would have forever. My goal, to cure the world of it’s misguided intentions of saving itself through means that would never get them to the place they dreamed of. I want to end suicidal behavior, drinking binges, and victims allowing their own abuses. I want to end misguided lives, to cure people of their stupidities almost, but I can’t even see my own. I can’t get past my own, because the ability that enables me to read others, is the same one that keeps me blind from seeing it in myself. I hurt myself every single day. I kill myself inside each day a little more by never being honest, never speaking up, never acknowledging what is happening to me, around me, because of me. It’s always circles, it always was, and I’ll circle back to tell you that it’ll never change.
I am broken, and I do all that is in my power to keep myself that way. I lost a father so drastically that I’ll never recover. It was slow, heartbreaking, and destroyed every chance I had to have a normal relationship in the future. I will always hold on too tight, react too soon, and close up inside every thought that may damage it until I can hold it in no more. That release in the end is wonderful, it’s all out there, and real, like the girl I used to be, but at the same time it’s too much, too soon, too unchecked. I let my brain shutdown for 30 seconds and let it all out, and that’s just it. It’s not me, and it’s definitely not the girl that he fell in love with.
I am a disappointment through and through. I don’t know how to keep a relationship going to save my life, and I may never know. I probably won’t, because the minute that this one ends, as much as I dread the thought that it’s even possible, it will all be over for me. I will prove myself right. Because love doesn’t break the boundaries that so many people believe it does. Love cracks at despair, loss, and change. We can’t control love any easier than we can capture it. It’s alluring, and speaks false promises of a future we’ll never see. It hurts people, and leaves them empty. Maybe in the end we will see that love is what doomed us from the beginning. Love is the real enemy. Love is the war.
But I’ll keep fighting. We’ll all keep fighting. Until there comes a day when the promises stop being whispered, when the twinkles in the eye stop grabbing our attention, when the wits and brains of the boys cease stopping time to show us it may be worth the five seconds to call out his name. The battle will rage on, engulfing generations old and new. It will never end, because love promises to be never-ending. Always and Forever, a contradiction of time and place, of reality. But still my favorite lie.
May he never walk away, or give up on me. I’m still healing, as I see with my knowing eyes that he is too. We’re trying to heal, but the answer lies in letting the other heal it. You must face what makes those tears build, not what sets them finally free.
I don’t really believe in love anymore. When I was little I thought it would cure the world, but after growing out of my naïve self, I see that it is the virus. We let it spread until we can’t handle it anymore. Love can’t be all you are, and I think that’s the biggest problem I’m having. I need for love to be everything in my life, and I need for it to never go away. But that’s a silly childish dream that I need to overcome. I need to grow up, if only in that small sense.
So here’s to loving, in moderation. Here’s to living for me, instead of through him. Here’s to life not being so fucked up. And finally here’s to me, because maybe I deserve it.
Tip back the cup of misery, and take a swallow to set you free,
Jenny
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Untitled Poem
The night shrouds my good intentions
With a blanket of navy lace
And my actions are somehow blurred
By the inevitability that it will slip away
I am muted
Fallen silent to the demons of my past
They are back
They are screaming
And I’ll never get away.
But I wonder what will happen
As morning breaks over the horizon
And the rain drives the faint of heart away
Will I be free of my past
Of my mistakes of tainted youth and misguided intentions
And the life I could’ve, would’ve, should’ve
But didn’t want so very long ago.
I wonder if it ever really fades
Because the tattoo burnt across my heart is darkening
It says liar, fake, deceiver
But it’s in a dialect only few recognize
The few that matter
The few that care
The few that branded it there
With the intention of never letting it go.
Their grasp is loosening
After years of holding on with all their might
The world’s spinning, spinning,
Turning over new leaves, new trees,
And even newer breeds of deception
So has my crime dulled with time
With repeated overshadowing of the lower
The lowest of the low
Situated far below me on the ranks of disillusionment
Can I be forgiven in a world of the unforgiving
Or can I be at least, possibly at most, forgotten
The pain will never dull
The screams will never mute
The scars will never fade.
But the guilt, that brick of blame
It can be shrouded by the navy lace
As it rests so peacefully in the night
Awaiting a new day, a new say,
A new version of life,
It teeters on the edge of slipping,
But will never fall, unless pushed.
With a blanket of navy lace
And my actions are somehow blurred
By the inevitability that it will slip away
I am muted
Fallen silent to the demons of my past
They are back
They are screaming
And I’ll never get away.
But I wonder what will happen
As morning breaks over the horizon
And the rain drives the faint of heart away
Will I be free of my past
Of my mistakes of tainted youth and misguided intentions
And the life I could’ve, would’ve, should’ve
But didn’t want so very long ago.
I wonder if it ever really fades
Because the tattoo burnt across my heart is darkening
It says liar, fake, deceiver
But it’s in a dialect only few recognize
The few that matter
The few that care
The few that branded it there
With the intention of never letting it go.
Their grasp is loosening
After years of holding on with all their might
The world’s spinning, spinning,
Turning over new leaves, new trees,
And even newer breeds of deception
So has my crime dulled with time
With repeated overshadowing of the lower
The lowest of the low
Situated far below me on the ranks of disillusionment
Can I be forgiven in a world of the unforgiving
Or can I be at least, possibly at most, forgotten
The pain will never dull
The screams will never mute
The scars will never fade.
But the guilt, that brick of blame
It can be shrouded by the navy lace
As it rests so peacefully in the night
Awaiting a new day, a new say,
A new version of life,
It teeters on the edge of slipping,
But will never fall, unless pushed.
Tuesday, October 3, 2006
growing up without falling down
I wonder when I'm gonna finally want to grow up. I'm 19 years old, a
sophomore in college on my way to a degree in psychology. I work at a
job I hate, with people that are pretty much going nowhere in life. I
sleep, I party, and every now and then I fall farther in love with a boy
that I can't possibly ever live without now. Sounds normal doesn't
it. My life that is. I don't know why I feel like I'm going nowhere
right now, but I do. I've lost a lot of friends to distance, and second
thoughts. I don't know who I am anymore. I can't write, I can't form a
thought, or justly represent it to the world. Who am I if I am not my
words? It's not that I don't have anything to say, it's that I'm so
goddamn tired of spewing the same twisted complaints. I'm sick of
whining about my love life and my false friendships and my loneliness.
When will there ever be more? Is there more, to life, to a world so off
kilter?
So when do we grow out of it? When do we decide to put pitty highschool dramatics behind us and lead a real adult life? What does that even mean?
fuck it this isn't making sense.
So when do we grow out of it? When do we decide to put pitty highschool dramatics behind us and lead a real adult life? What does that even mean?
fuck it this isn't making sense.
Monday, October 2, 2006
Untouchables
The future is something that I can’t quite touch today. I want to
reach out and grab it, feel it for bumps and bruises, see myself in that
light. Will it be bright, broken, or devoid of all that matters? Will I
wake up one of these days in the shoes of the girl that I will one day
become? Will I always be this goddamn broken? It’s a failed attempt to
question the fates that aren’t listening to my cries. I’m insignificant
in the scheme of things, I will prove to be nothing more than my words
on this paper. I will cease to be, and nothing will remain, nothing but
this. This broken page bleeding an existence that didn’t ever say
anything worth reading about. All these questions about love and life
and purpose, no one cares. No one should, because they have their own.
Everyone wonders if they’ll ever get to that grand place we all believe
we’re destined for, that place that we believe we deserve, but what if
we don’t? What if we were put here for punishment? Did we do something
so long ago as a race that someone decided we needed to pay? Or is that
just a human emotion, revenge, justice, peace of mind? I don’t
understand where I’m going with this or where I may have already been.
It’s all coming out in circles inside squares and I can’t find a corner
in which to hide. We aren’t helpless, we’re lost. We aren’t broken,
we’re hurting. We aren’t confused, we’re misrepresented. So what’s it
all for? Is it worth it anymore? Can you get to a place where the hurt
overtakes the possibilities of tomorrow? Tomorrow means nothing. Today
means the world to me, but I’m not sure that the world means a goddamn
thing anyway. Why do we continue to walk the paths we can’t ever get
away from. They’re all the same, they’re all crooked and trapped, and
dead-ended. We always end up in a place we don’t want to be. Always. And
forever. Broken, but not forgotten. Forgotten, but not disillusioned.
We know who we are, we know where we are and where we’ve been, but we
don’t care. Tomorrow is what counts. That place we can never get to
because it always turns into today and like I said today doesn’t mean a
damn thing when we have tomorrow to worry about. Wishes disappear,
desires fade away. Love may live on through death, depression, and
disgust, but hate breaks boundaries love knows nothing of. Hate breeds a
future full of darkness. I guess it’s only fitting that the
streetlights burst at the thought. We are seeking the darkness we fear,
we are going to a place we never wanted to ever experience. But somehow
it’s too alluring to avoid. Truth blossoms in the dark, but lies, they
tumble easier than your lifeless clothes onto the floor. You’re rolling
around in the sheets of desire again, naked in every sense of the word.
Does it feel good? Right? Justified because the lights don’t burn to
tell your tale. I feel that too. In the dark I feel free. Freedom born
on the wings of the owl that haunts the night. He doesn’t forget though,
no one ever forgets. Our actions will follow us until the end of time.
What does that say about you? Where will what you are doing tonight, in
the dark, take you when you meet your maker? It will take you miles from
that place you always assumed you’d make it to. There is no such thing
as success or never-ending love. There is no such thing as making it.
You will be mediocre for the rest of your life, or you will break
yourself so badly on the way to the top that you fall. Flailing slightly
trying your hardest to convince the gods that you deserve that
pedestal. You’re feet aren’t pretty enough to be eye-level in this image
driven society. Get some expensive shoes, paint them up pretty, they’ll
never measure up. The mediocre will never lead the world. The world’s
going to hell anyway, do you want to look responsible for the final
showdown? Because you’ll lose. There are forces in this world that far
surpass our own. We will not win, we will kill ourselves. Mass suicide
at the hands of a society so driven on surviving that it surrendered its
chance of ever succeeding.
Sometimes life hurts and I get away from where I thought I was. I scare myself at times, but I guess that’s expected. I don’t want to be so dark, so depressive, but it’s easier than anything right now. The words are bottled up so tight they might just uncork this bottle, but I’m holding it too tight, trying to guzzle the contents into nothingness. I have no words for you, not anymore. I have no thoughts, not today. Because today doesn’t matter, and tomorrow will never come. Yesterday is all I have, and it’s lost in the tears I’ve cried trying to get it back. If you were ready for the truth I don’t think I could manage to drag it from the trenches of disillusionment. It’s scary, and it hurts far more than any words ever could. My words are all I have, bleeding much more profusely than the cuts I refuse to put in my wrists.
I always wanted to tattoo my thoughts of the world on my wrist, something in words, something particular and somehow astonishing. The only thing I can seem to think of is forever. Not because I believe in it, but because that’s what I think about life. It’s bullshit, we’ll never get it. Call me pessimistic, my dictionary lost that page anyway. I couldn’t stand the look of the word permanent, so I destroyed it.
Take a word of advice from a veteran of misery, don’t listen to a word I have to say.
Shut me up but don’t shut me down,
Jenny
Sometimes life hurts and I get away from where I thought I was. I scare myself at times, but I guess that’s expected. I don’t want to be so dark, so depressive, but it’s easier than anything right now. The words are bottled up so tight they might just uncork this bottle, but I’m holding it too tight, trying to guzzle the contents into nothingness. I have no words for you, not anymore. I have no thoughts, not today. Because today doesn’t matter, and tomorrow will never come. Yesterday is all I have, and it’s lost in the tears I’ve cried trying to get it back. If you were ready for the truth I don’t think I could manage to drag it from the trenches of disillusionment. It’s scary, and it hurts far more than any words ever could. My words are all I have, bleeding much more profusely than the cuts I refuse to put in my wrists.
I always wanted to tattoo my thoughts of the world on my wrist, something in words, something particular and somehow astonishing. The only thing I can seem to think of is forever. Not because I believe in it, but because that’s what I think about life. It’s bullshit, we’ll never get it. Call me pessimistic, my dictionary lost that page anyway. I couldn’t stand the look of the word permanent, so I destroyed it.
Take a word of advice from a veteran of misery, don’t listen to a word I have to say.
Shut me up but don’t shut me down,
Jenny
Thursday, June 1, 2006
Unhappiness in a Bottle
The beginning is always the hardest part of anything to write, for me
anyway. I always have trouble getting where I’m going, but I always
know where I want to end up, so I’m gonna start there. I’m sick and
tired of being unhappy. I want to reach that place where everything is
going to be okay again. I thought I was there. I thought that I was
finally on track, but I’m so far away that I can’t even see the train
heading straight for me. I don’t know if I’m crazy, or just horrendously
unlucky. I keep getting dealt the hard hand, or maybe I redeal until I
get it, I’m not sure. Maybe I want to end up here. In this place where
things aren’t okay anymore. Sometimes I really wonder. It’s a draw, I
guess. I can either be in this place, willing and able to write every
care, fear, and sadness that I can convey, or I can be on the other side
of the spectrum. I can be happy, or so close that it doesn’t matter if
I’m really there, and I miss my ability to convey how I feel. When I’m
in this place I can get it all down on paper, one way or another, but
when I’m not it’s just there, and no matter how long I try I can’t show
the world how it feels. Because happiness is not something you can write
about. You can’t write about being content, whole, in love. Because
there aren’t words for that. There are similes, but none quite compare.
None will ever come close. So ya, maybe I like the darkness. Maybe I
stray to it every time my life starts to get boring. Maybe that’s my
disease. What’s my cure?
Some say love can cure you of anything. I was one of those people. I thought that love could move mountains. I was wrong. There are boundaries in even love. There are limits, things that just cannot happen. And that realization really hurt. It hurt knowing that even if you are drowning in love, sometimes it can’t save you. I’m not sure how to even explain what’s going through my head right now. I’m thinking about this too much, that’s what he’d say. He’d say that things will eventually be okay if I just give him his space and his time. What he doesn’t know is that my entire world has been tipped upside down and turned inside out. I don’t know how to function in this backwards place. I don’t know how to be in love anymore, because the way I thought love is isn’t in any way close to the way it really is.
I thought love would save me. I thought that once I fell in love all those holes and all those pains would eventually go away. I thought I’d be whole again with the man of my dreams by my side, but suddenly I’m not enough. He needs his time to enjoy himself away from me, to grow away from me. But what happens when we grow up separately for so long, will we eventually turn into people that aren’t in love anymore? Will we one day look into the other’s eyes and not see the fire, or spark that was there for so long before? I’m just afraid that he’s gonna grow up one day and realize how great he is. He’s gonna realize that he’s an amazing guy, and he’s gonna see that I’m not such an amazing girl. I’m really fucked up. We both know that. And maybe after revealing my whole fucked up self by taking him to the graveyard to meet my dad, he sees that the hole is too deep. He can’t fill it, so he doesn’t want to try anymore.
That’s ridiculous probably. Ridiculous to think that I scared him away after all the times we’ve talked about my father and all the ways that it’s influenced my life. But I wanted him to meet him. That sounds crazy, but I needed to take him there. I needed him to see the final remnants of the man that took the happiness out of my eyes when he left this world. I needed him to see the physical proof of why and how much I was fucked up all those years ago. And I think I scared him a little. He wasn’t ready to be that kind of strong for me. Holding me at night when I have nightmares is one thing, but holding me as I’m sobbing next to my father’s grave is another. I think I thought too much of our relationship.
I wanted it to be perfect, complete, and all-consuming. Because that’s what he is to me. He’s my rock, my best friend, my boyfriend, my true love, my… everything. He’s the one I go to when I’m feeling frustrated, annoyed, alone, hurt, stressed, or even inexplicably happy. He is enough for me. He makes me comfortable. For the first time I can be myself. I can say every stupid blonde thing in front of him and not feel stupid for one second. I can bumble around and get confused when we’re having sex, I can laugh too. I can write in front of him and let him read it. I can do ANYTHING and everything in his presence, I’m that comfortable, but he’s not. And that hurts no matter how normal it is. Why am I suddenly not enough, or really… too much?
I’m thinking about this too much, but lately I feel like I need to hang on really tight. Like I’m gonna lose him at any second. I don’t know why. I’m not psychic or even pretending to think that I am, but for some odd reason I feel like one of these days I’m gonna wake up and he’s not gonna be there, and that scares the shit out of me. I’m not sure what I would do. I can’t lose him. Not now. Not ever.
I wanna grow old with him and have kids, grandkids and eventually great-grandkids. I want to laugh together when we can’t shower ourselves anymore. I want to cook him dinner before he gets home from work every night. I want to live with him in the perfect brick house we always talk about. 3 kids. I want girls, he wants boys, but that’ll work itself out. I want to get a puppy. I want to get a fish, and a cat, and a frog. I want to decorate the house together, and help out with all our chores. I want to walk down the aisle with him waiting, hot as hell in his tuxedo to say I do. I want to write an amazing wedding speech, but chicken out and only read it to him when we’re alone. I want to slow dance with him to our song, if we ever have one. But what if he gets stolen from me? It’s almost as if he’s slowly distancing himself so that when he’s gone for good it’s not such a surprise. I don’t want to lose him, I can’t.
I want him to hold me right now as I start to cry. I want him to walk through that door and tell me that everything is alright and that he’s never going to leave and that I’m exactly the girl that he wants, and will always want. I want him to kiss me softly and show me that he’s not just saying that to silence my tears. I need all that. I need it to be like it used to be, him and me, and no one else. But it’s not. It’s all these other people, and not a single one matters to me but him. I wish he’d wake up and realize that I’m the only one he needs too. But am I? Will I always be?
It’s paralyzing to have to wonder if you’re enough. To wonder if it’ll always be me in his dreams, or if one day there just might be another. He’s the only one I’ll ever yearn for. He’s the only one I’ll ever truly love.
I know sometimes he doubts that fact, thinks that TJ got there first. He never did. I didn’t love TJ. I fell in love with the idea of him more than anything. I wanted to love him, but it was an odd sort of love. The kind that you know is doomed from the beginning. I always had to second guess myself with him, still even today I have to second guess our friendship. He was never enough for me. David’s a different story. He has been since day one. He wanted me, he loved me, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. He put me first, and maybe that’s selfish to want that, but it felt great to be cared for. It feels great. I’m in love, and it hurts a lot of the time recently but I’m still in love. I’d do anything for his kiss, his touch, his smell even. That screams first love, so nothing before this matters, nothing. Even with TJ around, it doesn’t show me what I’m missing out on, it shows me what I wasted my time on. I wasted four years being wrapped up in this kid that’s still as fucked up today as he was then. He’s going nowhere. I needed to wait those four years though, in order for david to come around. I needed to be unattached and wanting when he was ready to knock on my door.
That’s the funny thing about love and timing. It’s always perfect. So maybe I just need to wait. Wait for the moment when everything turns out just the way I wanted it to. It won’t be today, or even tomorrow, but maybe the next day. It still hurts though. I miss him holding me, and hearing his breathing as I go to sleep. I miss having him there when I wake up. Maybe he does too. Maybe it’ll all be okay.
I love you David Jon-Michael Worrell. Don’t ever question that.
Love battered and broken, but still somehow standing,
Jenny
Some say love can cure you of anything. I was one of those people. I thought that love could move mountains. I was wrong. There are boundaries in even love. There are limits, things that just cannot happen. And that realization really hurt. It hurt knowing that even if you are drowning in love, sometimes it can’t save you. I’m not sure how to even explain what’s going through my head right now. I’m thinking about this too much, that’s what he’d say. He’d say that things will eventually be okay if I just give him his space and his time. What he doesn’t know is that my entire world has been tipped upside down and turned inside out. I don’t know how to function in this backwards place. I don’t know how to be in love anymore, because the way I thought love is isn’t in any way close to the way it really is.
I thought love would save me. I thought that once I fell in love all those holes and all those pains would eventually go away. I thought I’d be whole again with the man of my dreams by my side, but suddenly I’m not enough. He needs his time to enjoy himself away from me, to grow away from me. But what happens when we grow up separately for so long, will we eventually turn into people that aren’t in love anymore? Will we one day look into the other’s eyes and not see the fire, or spark that was there for so long before? I’m just afraid that he’s gonna grow up one day and realize how great he is. He’s gonna realize that he’s an amazing guy, and he’s gonna see that I’m not such an amazing girl. I’m really fucked up. We both know that. And maybe after revealing my whole fucked up self by taking him to the graveyard to meet my dad, he sees that the hole is too deep. He can’t fill it, so he doesn’t want to try anymore.
That’s ridiculous probably. Ridiculous to think that I scared him away after all the times we’ve talked about my father and all the ways that it’s influenced my life. But I wanted him to meet him. That sounds crazy, but I needed to take him there. I needed him to see the final remnants of the man that took the happiness out of my eyes when he left this world. I needed him to see the physical proof of why and how much I was fucked up all those years ago. And I think I scared him a little. He wasn’t ready to be that kind of strong for me. Holding me at night when I have nightmares is one thing, but holding me as I’m sobbing next to my father’s grave is another. I think I thought too much of our relationship.
I wanted it to be perfect, complete, and all-consuming. Because that’s what he is to me. He’s my rock, my best friend, my boyfriend, my true love, my… everything. He’s the one I go to when I’m feeling frustrated, annoyed, alone, hurt, stressed, or even inexplicably happy. He is enough for me. He makes me comfortable. For the first time I can be myself. I can say every stupid blonde thing in front of him and not feel stupid for one second. I can bumble around and get confused when we’re having sex, I can laugh too. I can write in front of him and let him read it. I can do ANYTHING and everything in his presence, I’m that comfortable, but he’s not. And that hurts no matter how normal it is. Why am I suddenly not enough, or really… too much?
I’m thinking about this too much, but lately I feel like I need to hang on really tight. Like I’m gonna lose him at any second. I don’t know why. I’m not psychic or even pretending to think that I am, but for some odd reason I feel like one of these days I’m gonna wake up and he’s not gonna be there, and that scares the shit out of me. I’m not sure what I would do. I can’t lose him. Not now. Not ever.
I wanna grow old with him and have kids, grandkids and eventually great-grandkids. I want to laugh together when we can’t shower ourselves anymore. I want to cook him dinner before he gets home from work every night. I want to live with him in the perfect brick house we always talk about. 3 kids. I want girls, he wants boys, but that’ll work itself out. I want to get a puppy. I want to get a fish, and a cat, and a frog. I want to decorate the house together, and help out with all our chores. I want to walk down the aisle with him waiting, hot as hell in his tuxedo to say I do. I want to write an amazing wedding speech, but chicken out and only read it to him when we’re alone. I want to slow dance with him to our song, if we ever have one. But what if he gets stolen from me? It’s almost as if he’s slowly distancing himself so that when he’s gone for good it’s not such a surprise. I don’t want to lose him, I can’t.
I want him to hold me right now as I start to cry. I want him to walk through that door and tell me that everything is alright and that he’s never going to leave and that I’m exactly the girl that he wants, and will always want. I want him to kiss me softly and show me that he’s not just saying that to silence my tears. I need all that. I need it to be like it used to be, him and me, and no one else. But it’s not. It’s all these other people, and not a single one matters to me but him. I wish he’d wake up and realize that I’m the only one he needs too. But am I? Will I always be?
It’s paralyzing to have to wonder if you’re enough. To wonder if it’ll always be me in his dreams, or if one day there just might be another. He’s the only one I’ll ever yearn for. He’s the only one I’ll ever truly love.
I know sometimes he doubts that fact, thinks that TJ got there first. He never did. I didn’t love TJ. I fell in love with the idea of him more than anything. I wanted to love him, but it was an odd sort of love. The kind that you know is doomed from the beginning. I always had to second guess myself with him, still even today I have to second guess our friendship. He was never enough for me. David’s a different story. He has been since day one. He wanted me, he loved me, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. He put me first, and maybe that’s selfish to want that, but it felt great to be cared for. It feels great. I’m in love, and it hurts a lot of the time recently but I’m still in love. I’d do anything for his kiss, his touch, his smell even. That screams first love, so nothing before this matters, nothing. Even with TJ around, it doesn’t show me what I’m missing out on, it shows me what I wasted my time on. I wasted four years being wrapped up in this kid that’s still as fucked up today as he was then. He’s going nowhere. I needed to wait those four years though, in order for david to come around. I needed to be unattached and wanting when he was ready to knock on my door.
That’s the funny thing about love and timing. It’s always perfect. So maybe I just need to wait. Wait for the moment when everything turns out just the way I wanted it to. It won’t be today, or even tomorrow, but maybe the next day. It still hurts though. I miss him holding me, and hearing his breathing as I go to sleep. I miss having him there when I wake up. Maybe he does too. Maybe it’ll all be okay.
I love you David Jon-Michael Worrell. Don’t ever question that.
Love battered and broken, but still somehow standing,
Jenny
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Teenage Love or the Lack-there-of
I never considered the kind of love that I'm experiencing to be either
juvenile, or fleeting. I never saw it as so-called "teenage love" or
"highschool romance" because in my mind it was never anything close to
that. It was something to joke or play with... ever. It was something
that him and I both knew was going to be forever, or for at least such a
large amount of time that it replicated the meaning of forever. We
spent our days playing out the scenes of romeo and juliet. except we
didn't die. and our families never fought. okay not so much romeo and
juliet, I guess but you get the idea. We were meant to be. destined.
and i believed that. believED. funny how one silly
argument changes that. how suddenly your entire world is off kilter and
you are forced to question everything you stand for. everything you've
fought for. everything you've lost. we'd never fought before this,
nothing huge anyway. we'd make up, kiss, and hold eachother before bed.
that didn't happen this time. it has yet to happen. so i have to
question what we're doing here. is it really just young love? is it
the relationship that will eventually get left behind because we've
grown so far past it? i hope to god i'm wrong. i hope to god we can
overcome this because i don't know how to live without him. i don't
want to. but at the same time i dont want to hurt anymore. i don't
want to keep getting thrown full force into this depression, but here i
am, chin deep and choking. i'm drowning again. who'll save me if he
doesnt want to be around anymore.
this wouldn't hurt so much if i didnt have to question our future. but those 3 children, two girls one boy, are fading fast. the house is changing shape, disappearing. there isn't a chocolate lab, or a white picket fence. we're not together. we're not happy. i haven't lived past us either. i'm dead, and buried without him, i wish he'd see that.
i can't lose him.
i can't live without him.
i can't breathe.
my heart would burst if it hadn't already broken.
lovesick in the dieing sort of way,
Jenny
this wouldn't hurt so much if i didnt have to question our future. but those 3 children, two girls one boy, are fading fast. the house is changing shape, disappearing. there isn't a chocolate lab, or a white picket fence. we're not together. we're not happy. i haven't lived past us either. i'm dead, and buried without him, i wish he'd see that.
i can't lose him.
i can't live without him.
i can't breathe.
my heart would burst if it hadn't already broken.
lovesick in the dieing sort of way,
Jenny
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)