And she's running away again, faster than she ever has before. She is running from obligation, from being needed. Is it so much for her to desire someone to want her again? To truly want her, more than anything else in the entire world. That is her dream, that she will someday find a man that is content to just be with her. Someone that can lie next to her in bed in the dark and just talk for hours. Someone that makes the world melt away, and revels in the fact that he can melt with her. She thought that she had found him, she thought that she had found this amazing man that would make the rest of the world finally make sense, or allow her to ignore the fact that it will never, and has never ever made sense anyway. But then she realized that she needed more than that, but somehow less than that too. You see she thought that she saw the glimmer of her father in the eyes of a boy waiting in line for a roller coaster, but really all she found was a boy that would love her the same.
Unfortunately it was as he was confessing his love for her, that she realized that she would never love him the way he already loved her. She could not love him, and at first she thought it was because she still loved another. In those first excruciating moments it was his face that flashed before her eyes. It was his eyes she was looking into and it was his hand holding hers, ever so gently, but still protectively. It was his stubble that she was stroking, and his lips that her fingers were running across. So ya, maybe the epiphany was two-fold. She realized that she still loved someone who would never ever choose to love her the way she deserved back, not in the way she wanted anyway. Because he would always love her, just not in the right ways. But she also realized that the boy that she had chosen to take that other man's place was no closer to the man that she needed. The funny thing, is that together they were a perfect man. Strong, protective, comforting, sensual and racy meets sensitive, caring, loving, and goofy. Two halves of a whole that made up the greatest man she had ever known. Together they were her father, but individually they were largely disappointing.
And so here she stands, after running away again. Writing a story about a girl that was obvious was her from the time the pen starting touching paper, and then her fingers started gracing the keys. She is trying to make sense of her decisions, of her reactions, of her nearly insatiable need to be with these boys that mean nothing to her. But her decision-making seems to have been placed on hold in light of her need to heal. Again. So that in a month or two when she meets another amazing man, she can run and her body will be conditioned for the consequences.
The real question is whether the same can be said of her mind.
J-L
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
my own little one tree hill
Some days I look at my life and I wonder if I will ever have enough. I am not a selfish person, and I never really have been. If anything I am selfless, I am even selfless in detriment to my own well being. I will give anything to see you rise up against the tides of this overwhelming world. And yet somehow, no matter what I do, or who I meet, or how deeply I fall in love, it is never enough. He is never enough. Which makes me wonder, if maybe its me that's the problem to begin with. I have these ideas about love in my head that have built up as a result of my life. I have what I expect love to be in my head, whether I can figure out what that actually is still stands in question.
It seems ridiculous to relay what I am even thinking at this moment. It saddens me to admit the thoughts inside of my head. But I also wonder if these thoughts are not the product of my endless pursuit to finish a tv series that for many years of my young adulthood I wished was my own life. I wished my life were that exciting, or that enticing, or even that dramatic. For years I wanted to be Peyton Sawyer, and now as I rewatch the series on Netflix i'm beginning to see that 5 years later... maybe I am.
You see i'm finding myself in this place where I've realized that even after throwing myself full force into an amazing relationship, one that can work, and is working, that I'm still in love with someone else. And I'm wondering if this love is eternal, everlasting, inescapable. Or if its simply inevitable, lasting, but over. The problem is that I do love another, I love someone with my whole heart, but he does not want me.
And so this boy is my Julian. I could love him, I could be happy with him, but there will always always be that other guy. I'll think of him when I am least expecting it, I will keep him in my life because i can, and because everyone allows me to. But I will be waiting, no matter how deeply I get into another relationship, I will be waiting for that day when he misses me, when he realizes that he made a mistake. And I will go running back.
It kills me to see this, to be this girl. And so I wonder if this is only the product of a high fever and too much time to catch up on dramatic television of the past. I wonder if I am dreaming up all of these feelings, or if this is really who I am.
I am Peyton Sawyer, and he is my Lucas Scott... but for today I will be happy with Julian Baker, because he's a great guy, he makes me smile, and some days he even makes me forget that Lucas Scott ever walked away.
J-Leigh
It seems ridiculous to relay what I am even thinking at this moment. It saddens me to admit the thoughts inside of my head. But I also wonder if these thoughts are not the product of my endless pursuit to finish a tv series that for many years of my young adulthood I wished was my own life. I wished my life were that exciting, or that enticing, or even that dramatic. For years I wanted to be Peyton Sawyer, and now as I rewatch the series on Netflix i'm beginning to see that 5 years later... maybe I am.
You see i'm finding myself in this place where I've realized that even after throwing myself full force into an amazing relationship, one that can work, and is working, that I'm still in love with someone else. And I'm wondering if this love is eternal, everlasting, inescapable. Or if its simply inevitable, lasting, but over. The problem is that I do love another, I love someone with my whole heart, but he does not want me.
And so this boy is my Julian. I could love him, I could be happy with him, but there will always always be that other guy. I'll think of him when I am least expecting it, I will keep him in my life because i can, and because everyone allows me to. But I will be waiting, no matter how deeply I get into another relationship, I will be waiting for that day when he misses me, when he realizes that he made a mistake. And I will go running back.
It kills me to see this, to be this girl. And so I wonder if this is only the product of a high fever and too much time to catch up on dramatic television of the past. I wonder if I am dreaming up all of these feelings, or if this is really who I am.
I am Peyton Sawyer, and he is my Lucas Scott... but for today I will be happy with Julian Baker, because he's a great guy, he makes me smile, and some days he even makes me forget that Lucas Scott ever walked away.
J-Leigh
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
But the world seemed darker today than most others...stranger. Nothing was as bright or promising. The world just was...in all its gray glory and she wondered for the first time if there was more. If she could be more. If she could title it...she'd name it melancholy. But for some reason, some ungodly premonition she knows she never will.
And so she paints it. In Grays. And leaves it for them to remember on a day that she does not intend to see. Because we were not all meant for infamy...some if us were meant for the unmarked billboards, the untitled songs, the anonymous quotes.
She will live forever. And she revels in the fact that no one else will ever know.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
And it is the love that comes on the eve of her destruction that somehow saved them both
She finds herself pondering life again, as if she needs to figure it out to give it the right meaning, when maybe the truth is that the meaning lies in her inability to decipher it. Maybe this part of life, this happy part, the part that makes her smile more often than she has in a long time, or allows the smile to stand unmarred for longer than ever before in her life, does not need an explanation. She has been plagued by bad luck and even worse decisions for as long as she can remember. And it is when she is on the verge of unveiling a massive deception that could have torn her world down that she found someone that made her question whether any of that mattered in the first place. The fact that she is still standing right now is amazing to her. So maybe she needs to go back to the beginning, retell this story, since really she isn't quite sure what her life story is anymore.
Many years ago there was a girl. She was pretty ordinary in most respects. Her hair was too curly, she was pretty awkward, and wasn't even sure what makeup was or what dating boys meant. She hadn't ever kissed a boy, or even held one's hand. But she had lost her father. She was the broken little girl that was quite lost in her world. She retreated into herself and into her writing, trusting that what she believed about life was true. She believed that her father had been sick, that he had some terrible brain disease that stole the best man this world had ever allowed to live. She believed that her stepmother had moved heaven and earth to keep him with them for as long as she had. She believed that her own mother had deceived her, had tried to keep her from knowing the truth even though she knew she could handle it. The truth was, that whatever the truth may be it never left the lips of that woman.
Eleven years later she sits asking herself if it matters. Does it matter if her father died the way that she always took for granted was the truth? You see this girl always valued truth. Above all else, the lies were the things that hurt the most. It drastically changed the relationship she built with her mother when she was convinced that she had intended to lie to her, to protect her from her father's disease. In reality her stepmother was keeping everyone that cared about her father from knowing what was going on with his health. It seems entirely likely now, in hindsight and much too late, that he did not die of an illusory brain disease. He was either poisoned or misdiagnosed. Either way someone is at fault. Someone killed my father.
And here we go away from the story and into the heart of what this really is. Someone killed MY father. The best man that I have ever known, one that was not free of faults or bad decisions. He was just a man, not superman or anyone that would have saved the world, but he was a good man. The kind that few meet and even fewer get to know for who he truly is. He may not have saved the world, but somehow even though I only had thirteen years with him, he saved me. He saved me from a life that I could have had, simply by being who he was and showing me that it was important to be that way. So it's hard to wonder if his death is important, when it is blaringly obvious that it is. Even if no one else cares but me, his death is important. Just as important eleven years later, as it was the day my mother broke the news.
I see past the lies now. I see that even though I may never know if my stepmother did something to cause my father's death that she was not the person that I believed her to be. Deep down in my heart there are bitter and disgusting feelings. Feelings that make me want revenge. I want to take something that means as much to her as what she took from me. But even when I say that I think I know that I don't even mean that she took my father from me. I mean that she took my peace of mind. She took that part of me that doesn't question anything, that just trusts blindly because I will never ever trust like that again.
And yet here I am. Waiting for a boy that makes this not hurt nearly as much as it should. A boy that doesn't even know that I have lost a father, or that I'm damaged goods. A boy that can make me smile without even saying anything. It's like the world knew that I needed him, and that sounds completely insane. Since the day that I met this guy I saw something in him that I have seen in very few human beings. I saw something that I could not place, something that reminded me of something, of someone, of sometime. And it wasn't until today that I realized what that was. Every girl is destined to want someone like her father, and I think that's what I found in him. I don't even know him yet, but I feel like I can see it in his eyes, tucked back in there way past where any normal person could see. It is there and I know it.
So this life, that has forever been working against me, gave me him on the eve of my possible destruction. I have no doubt that if I had not met him that I may have crumbled on the cusp of this. But somehow whenever I look into his eyes nothing matters anymore. The deception does not matter, the want for revenge is nearly nonexistant, and I revel in the fact that I now have this person in my life that could turn it all around.
He saved me, or maybe more precisely, the world saved us both. There must be a reason that we met that day, that we didn't choose to delay for even another minute. That's all it would have taken. And when I look at it that way it is even more wondrous. Fate. Destiny. I never believed in those things. They were fairytales and bullshit. But now, after eleven years... I'm a believer again. He's made me believe in something, made me want to believe in him. And for the first time in my life, I'm not scared.
Many years ago there was a girl. She was pretty ordinary in most respects. Her hair was too curly, she was pretty awkward, and wasn't even sure what makeup was or what dating boys meant. She hadn't ever kissed a boy, or even held one's hand. But she had lost her father. She was the broken little girl that was quite lost in her world. She retreated into herself and into her writing, trusting that what she believed about life was true. She believed that her father had been sick, that he had some terrible brain disease that stole the best man this world had ever allowed to live. She believed that her stepmother had moved heaven and earth to keep him with them for as long as she had. She believed that her own mother had deceived her, had tried to keep her from knowing the truth even though she knew she could handle it. The truth was, that whatever the truth may be it never left the lips of that woman.
Eleven years later she sits asking herself if it matters. Does it matter if her father died the way that she always took for granted was the truth? You see this girl always valued truth. Above all else, the lies were the things that hurt the most. It drastically changed the relationship she built with her mother when she was convinced that she had intended to lie to her, to protect her from her father's disease. In reality her stepmother was keeping everyone that cared about her father from knowing what was going on with his health. It seems entirely likely now, in hindsight and much too late, that he did not die of an illusory brain disease. He was either poisoned or misdiagnosed. Either way someone is at fault. Someone killed my father.
And here we go away from the story and into the heart of what this really is. Someone killed MY father. The best man that I have ever known, one that was not free of faults or bad decisions. He was just a man, not superman or anyone that would have saved the world, but he was a good man. The kind that few meet and even fewer get to know for who he truly is. He may not have saved the world, but somehow even though I only had thirteen years with him, he saved me. He saved me from a life that I could have had, simply by being who he was and showing me that it was important to be that way. So it's hard to wonder if his death is important, when it is blaringly obvious that it is. Even if no one else cares but me, his death is important. Just as important eleven years later, as it was the day my mother broke the news.
I see past the lies now. I see that even though I may never know if my stepmother did something to cause my father's death that she was not the person that I believed her to be. Deep down in my heart there are bitter and disgusting feelings. Feelings that make me want revenge. I want to take something that means as much to her as what she took from me. But even when I say that I think I know that I don't even mean that she took my father from me. I mean that she took my peace of mind. She took that part of me that doesn't question anything, that just trusts blindly because I will never ever trust like that again.
And yet here I am. Waiting for a boy that makes this not hurt nearly as much as it should. A boy that doesn't even know that I have lost a father, or that I'm damaged goods. A boy that can make me smile without even saying anything. It's like the world knew that I needed him, and that sounds completely insane. Since the day that I met this guy I saw something in him that I have seen in very few human beings. I saw something that I could not place, something that reminded me of something, of someone, of sometime. And it wasn't until today that I realized what that was. Every girl is destined to want someone like her father, and I think that's what I found in him. I don't even know him yet, but I feel like I can see it in his eyes, tucked back in there way past where any normal person could see. It is there and I know it.
So this life, that has forever been working against me, gave me him on the eve of my possible destruction. I have no doubt that if I had not met him that I may have crumbled on the cusp of this. But somehow whenever I look into his eyes nothing matters anymore. The deception does not matter, the want for revenge is nearly nonexistant, and I revel in the fact that I now have this person in my life that could turn it all around.
He saved me, or maybe more precisely, the world saved us both. There must be a reason that we met that day, that we didn't choose to delay for even another minute. That's all it would have taken. And when I look at it that way it is even more wondrous. Fate. Destiny. I never believed in those things. They were fairytales and bullshit. But now, after eleven years... I'm a believer again. He's made me believe in something, made me want to believe in him. And for the first time in my life, I'm not scared.
Friday, November 4, 2011
make me a believer, for i want to believe in nothing but you
I've never been a real believer in fate, even though the thought of it intrigued me. I never put much stock in horoscopes, or psychics, or even intricate life plans. But I feel as if I am being forced to recognize the powers of the universe, that some things are just meant to happen, some people were just supposed to meet. A thousand things could have impeded our meeting. Any small decision could have changed any of our four courses that day, and we would not have met at all. I say this, wondering if we had made different choices if the world would have allowed us other chances to meet. If we would have met somewhere less magical, or if we would have gone on with our lives oblivious to the fact that the other existed.
Who travels an hour and a half to an amusement park, sparks up a random conversation with two strangers that have driven two and a half hours to get there, and ends up spending the entire rest of the day with them? Who finds a guy that they are head over heels for in line for a roller coaster that she almost decided to ride later? I guess I do. So I have to believe in fate. And that fact that this guy that makes me feel things inside of my heart and inside of my soul that no other guy has ever made me feel before, is amazing to me. Life is amazing. And my heart is all jumbled and my brain is no better off... but I feel like I have so much to say here, and yet so little will come out of this incoherent jumble.
I'm falling harder than I may be comfortable with, but I feel like this might be the point,
J-L
Who travels an hour and a half to an amusement park, sparks up a random conversation with two strangers that have driven two and a half hours to get there, and ends up spending the entire rest of the day with them? Who finds a guy that they are head over heels for in line for a roller coaster that she almost decided to ride later? I guess I do. So I have to believe in fate. And that fact that this guy that makes me feel things inside of my heart and inside of my soul that no other guy has ever made me feel before, is amazing to me. Life is amazing. And my heart is all jumbled and my brain is no better off... but I feel like I have so much to say here, and yet so little will come out of this incoherent jumble.
I'm falling harder than I may be comfortable with, but I feel like this might be the point,
J-L
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Her mind goes back to the same place every time she sits down to think. She is somehow transported to this place...this place that to her knowledge does not exist in the world not the real world anyway. The place overtakes her. So competely that she can smell the air. She can feel the breeze and run her fingers through the grass. She can breathe the place in...and it is refreshing. Refreshing like only this place could ever be or ever has been. It travels to her soul and through her veins to her heart. She breathes him back in...here. Because this is the only place he can exist now...for her.
In no other place do they exist together except for here. They never have. And her heart knows it but yet she tries to believe it anyway...that she can steal him away from this special place.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)