They way things work

We all must endure something. Some days, the pain is the only thing that lets us know that we are truly alive. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness is a joke. Happiness is usually fleeting and often a cover for the lies and the deceit that lie within us. I’m not a pessimist, I am a realist. Think about it. Think about the last time you were truly happy…Think about the last time, you had no worries…

I’m waiting…

Now stop smiling and remember the other circumstances surrounding that time…

It’s not so pretty, is it?

My last moments of happiness were months ago…I remember like it was yesterday.

It’s like the Dane Cook skit about couples and arguments. Dane said that a couple knows that everything is okay when the other party says, “Hey! You want to see a movie?”

Smart man.

The end of my argument was the beginning of a new end.

Again, all good things must come to an end.

We are all creatures of habit, no matter how hard the attempts to prove otherwise.

We stay at the same job because we know what to expect everyday. The majority of the nation lives within a 50 miles radius of the town in which they were born…Comfort is what we seek. Habit is comfort, the unknown is scary.

Television and life are nothing alike because life is much worse. The pain is real…Entirely too real.

I’m tired. The constant roller coaster of life is wearing me thin. Comfort doesn’t come easy. Fun ends with a great headache or regret of some sort.
I refuse to put myself through this again. I refuse to put new scars on top of the old. I prefer to continually open the existing wound. This isn’t the road less traveled. It is an old tradition to stick with what you know. That’s the way life works.

Hate

Dr. Wilkerson told me today that Dot was not put to sleep. She was adopted by the vet (Dr. Wilkerson) and he gave her surgery and adopted her to another vet in Oklahoma City. I saw the damn paperwork that said you signed her over to him for that purpose...

Thought you might also like to know that.


You could have informed me that Clayton was going to have the same problems as Dot, but NO, you're apparently too fucking selfish to do something as simple as that.


I hate you. I hate your ugly redneck wife. I hate that she is having your child and I'm not. I hate that she is part of your life. I hate seeing fucking bills in my mailbox with your stupid fucking name on them. I hate that I let you into my life and into my heart. I hate that I can't get you out of my mind. I hate that you picked someone inferior to me. I hate that I acted the way I did towards you. I hate you for making me act like that towards you. I hate knowing/thinking/believing that you love me. I hate knowing that you are fucked up. I hate knowing that you will never fix what you broke. I hate that I can never speak to you because you're too self-absorbed to care about what the hell goes on with me. I hate that I never know if I am ever going to speak to you again for the same reasons. I hate this stupid nagging feeling in my stupid chest. I hate seeing the same fucking streets and the same fucking shit everyday because it all reminds me of you. I hate Matishyahu, Eminem, Akon, and any other fucking song that you made a ringtone. I hate seeing old red trucks and black Hondas. I hate bikes. I hate the microwave, the bedspread, and anything else that once belonged to you. I hate replacing shit that was yours because it means I'm slowly phasing you out. I hate MySpace because you never respond. I hate my friends because they always ask if I spoke to you. I hate sex because I can't bring myself to have it with anyone else. I hate the words like "Amber and Umber" because they remind me of my failure. I hate discovering more things that you lied about. I hate thinking about your lies and wondering where I went wrong. I hate your smile. I hate meeting anyone with your name. I hate Marines. I hate everything because everything leads to some thought about you. But most of all, I hate myself for not being able to let you go. I hate myself for loving you and not being able to stop.

Grey's

I love Grey's Anatomy…I love them because they are pretty people…But not too pretty. Meredith’s hair is always in the wrong place. Cristina’s makeup is never there, but always there at the same time. George isn’t conventionally attractive, nor is Calliope and Burke. Everything is always just in a certain way that is normal…Regular…Human. Everything is believable.

It’s sad. Every episode is sad. Someone dies. Someone lives. Someone struggles. Life is like this. We all have a friend who is perfect. We all have a friend that struggles, but makes it…Above anything; we all have trials and tribulations. We are all human. As much as we would all love to lie and think that our lives are perfect, we all realize that it will crash around our pretty knees eventually.

Not like me

It's nice to delude yourself with grandiose notions of the future.
It's comforting to think that those you call friends could ever give a fuck about you or anyone not in their direct line of sight...

Here
today
gone
tommorrow...

Speaking of the future, you convince yourself that those around you are there for a reason...Those that remain by your side are to be a part of your future.

Everything
changes...

You tell yourself you love these people and lie to the only person in your life that matters...You.
Though you know that your company has qualities about them that irritate you to your very core, you could never tolerate this person in the long run...You let them believe you will follow through with the wonderful plans you create in inebriation, in loneliness, in despair...

"Drink this and pretend you aren't
scary
and
damaged."

But you are. You are a product of your past. You are the direct result of everything life has so graciously handed you in return for your blood, your sweat, your tears...

But you can't compare...You aren't allowed to let someone know how damaged you really are...How the vicious wounds of betrayal never quite heal...Your defensive realism is viewed as pessimism and you earn the labels...Grump, grouch, bitch...

Or
worse...

Your past comes to tell you,

"You're not

scary and damaged.

Not like me..."

Damnit.

Gr...It's so weird the things that lead you to thoughts of things you'd rather not ponder.

Even more irritating is the realization that you will never know the answer to these mental road trips.

I'm growing very tired of this up and down bullshit. I feel stupid for still thinking about him and I know it's a mutual fault. He tells me the things that I don't want to hear so he knows. He wants me to be as fucked up as him, but to never appear so. I'm not him...He thinks. I'm not fucked up like him. I haven't killed people, I haven't hurt people. He thinks. What a sad, little man...


OKAY ENOUGH EMO:

I find it highly amusing that I am allowed to talk shit to my boss and curse at him when he irritates me. In no other company would I be given this privledge. My other boss allows me to ride around town with him while we discuss his sexual escapades. I love this freaking job.

Boredom

I'm bored...Not just boredom, ennui...(Because that word packs a bigger punch.)



I'm so bored, I'm watching Desperate Housewives. I'm eating "Deep, Dark" chocolate cake and appreciating the intricacies of my grandmother's baking skills. I'm contemplating the ingredients...



"Is that coffee I taste?"

"Wow...The salt left on the plate from my roast beef brings out the complexities of the cocoa."



I'm staring at my dog. Wondering what he is thinking.


"Man, my person is boring."

"She's mean...I want some of that spongy stuff, too!"



Then, I start thinking about these damned boys in my life.

Haitian-

He's attractive. He's a Navy man...Possibly too think. About 10 years my senior. Beautiful dredlocks that frame his face making him look like some powerful, Haitian prince...Thick, smooth lips...Annoying. He talks, at length, to waiters, tellers, anyone who will listen. He doesn't laugh at appropriate things. He's CHEAP...VERY CHEAP. He has an ex-wife, possibly a wife. He's damaged and attends counseling...He attends church study every Saturday, but goes to the club every Saturday when the meeting is adjourned.

The Men in my Life

I have several.

Too Bad to Be True

Too Bad To Be True
TJ McFarland

Babe, they don't know you so well
It's okay I can tell
Save it for your time of need
I hear your whisper in a crowd
It's so deafening loud
My ears they bleed

And I hear what they say about me
They speak with such condescending surity
I cannot believe that I don't still exist to you
It's too bad to be true

They have no hope for your life
They cut your bracelet with a knife
What gives them the right, I tied it myself
From your bed you can't see the sun
Barely wide enough for one
I'll be damned if they'll put you on a shelf

I'm just not convinced this could be the end
This logic's too bleak for me to comprehend
It cannot be so that I cannot still grow close to you
It's too bad to be true

There's no look I have to see
There's no word you have to say
I still believe
This'll all pass someday
And everything will be okay, yah

Oh I hear what they say about me
They speak with such condescending surity
I cannot believe that I don't still exist to you
It's too bad to be true

It's just too bad

Old School Emo

The truth is hard. The truth is awkward and very often the truth hurts. I mean, people think they want the truth. But do they really? The truth is painful. Deep down, nobody wants to hear it, especially when it hits close to home. Sometimes we tell the truth because the truth is all we have to give. Sometimes we tell the truth because we need to say it out loud to hear it for ourselves. And sometimes we tell the truth because we just can't help ourselves. Sometimes, we tell them because we owe them at least that much.
The truth that I craved so much was not the truth that I wanted.
I gave and gave to this man. I gave him my trust...One of the hardest things for me to give anyone. I loved him. I treated him with the utmost respect.
He took everything from me that I had to give. He pushed me to my breaking point. This betrayal threatens my sanity and endangers everything I have worked so hard to achieve.
But what does one do when faced with such a hard decision?
But will it even, in the end, be my decision? Is he going to be good to her? Or is he going to be good to me?
How can things go from one extreme to the next in a matter of days?
Last weekend, this man stared into my eyes as he stroked my cheek and told me that all he wanted was my trust. All he needed was my trust. I was truly beautiful. And at that moment, our bodies intertwined, he needed me. He needed my trust. Needed my love. Needed my promise that I would never leave and never stray. I gave him that promise. I gave him my trust.
But we always know when something is amiss, don't we?
As I called and called all morning, I knew. I knew that this wasn't what I was told it should be. I knew that the man that I trusted my heart to was playing with my emotions. SO I called. And then I showed up.
The emotion that I put into wrecking that apartment was liberating. Movies, tea, milk, powder, clothing, papers, drawers, chairs, baskets, bags, pills...Beautiful. A moment of madness that truly showed how I felt at that point.
Then. A phone call. An admission. An argument.
"NO. It's not what it looks like. NO. There is only one. There is only you."
Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, suffocating lies. The ultimate deception.
So. I returned to the mess I had made. A place for everything and everything in it's place.
More lies.
"They are on their way. I'm sorry."
An admission of guilt before valid evidence of true guilt. I didn't see it. I couldn't see it. Blinded by my love for this vile, selfish creature.
I left. I convinced myself that all of this was true. Everything he was telling me was true.
He lied. and lied. and lied. I walked in the door. There she was. In my face. The evidence was evident.
Damnit. I have never in my life felt a pain so great. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill her. I mainly wanted to kill myself.
The bad part is I'm not even mad at him. I feel I deserve an explanation. I deserve some sort of apology. It's not as if I didn't beg him for the truth. It's not as if I didn't give him every chance in the world to be a decent human being. But he couldn't do it. He didn't have it in him.
The worst part is that I'm continuing to pray that he still loves me. That we still have a fighting chance. But I really don't believe that we do.

something

It was then that he saw it. The innocence in her bright, blue eyes. Her simplistic nature had always been masked by her "don't give a fuck" attitude. A defense mechanism. Natural to her. She didn't know, for she couldn't see it. "Defensive Realism" she had nomered her pessimism...

But it wasn't at all...Underneath everything, there she was, a sad, hopeful little girl playing grown up games...

He could now comprehend...Now he understood the pull, the non-physical attraction. It was then, as he watched her eyes sparkle with naivety, his mission became clear. He had to protect her in the only fucked up and sick way he knew how...He had to change her. Build her up and knock her down. He knew. He loved her, more than he could ever love another, so protection was what she deserved...Protection from others, but mainly, protection from herself. The world would eat her alive, but not before she self-destructed...

Reality.

And this was the reality. This was the point where all the optimism failed her. The happiness, true and fleeting.

Yes, she was free...Damnit, damnit, damnit...She was free.

But she wasn't. She was trapped by the feelings of inferiority. The constant fear of failing the only one not paying attention. Imprisoned by the realization that she couldn't save the one who saved her. Choked with the knowledge that even as confusion and complications moved in, the love stayed. Tormented by the words that constantly looped in her mind.

"I love you, but things are complicated..."

Oh how true this was...But why?

"I need you to not need me..."

How do you prove independence when no one is looking?

She needed clarity in the murky waters. Her thoughts consumed her, threatening the little sanity that remained. She needed him. She wanted him. There would be no replacements.

As her life passed before her eyes, she waited. Patiently at times, impatiently at others. And the people came. They attempted to tear down the walls. They only succeeded in reinforcing them...

She hated. She hated him for making her the same kind of monster as himself. His plan all along...Well played, kind sir, well played.


Fucking stupid birthday. I make damned sure that I call or try to spend time with my "friends" on thier special days...Three different boys promised to take me out...BEGGED to take me out for my birthday, but it's ten o'clock and I am sitting on my stupid couch by myself. Fucking idiots...AND on top of that, I have a bleeding, GAPING hole in my mouth! Happy fucking birthday to you, Jaded Beauty...

Fictional kind of

She balanced the grocery bag on her hip as she slid the cherry key into the lock. Finally. Home. Eight hours of job bidding, bickering, and part chasing had worn her to the bone. She smiled as the little brown dog leaped to greet her...



The groceries tumbled onto the stained, worn carpet. Her exhaustion beat out frustration as she kicked the expensive heels to the side.



"AH! Hi there my little buddy! I missed you, too!"


The little dog lept with joy of his keeper's return...Not unlike any other day. She scooped him into her arms, kissing his cold, black nose as she stroked his soft, floppy ears..



"I'm so happy to see you, too!"



"But what about me?"


She jumped. No one lived in this apartment, but herself and the "boys", as she lovingly called them. But, alas, there he sat in an obviously uncomfortable position. His knees and back straight, his bottom glued to the edge of the sofa...



She knelt to retrieve the mushrooms, onions, and chicken that had caught the eye of her ferret. She never once glanced up. To see is to believe. She didn't want to see. Those four words flooded her brain and grabbed at her heart like a fist. She knew...It was him. The only person it could have ever been. The last and first person she ever wanted it to be.



"What are you doing here?" The tremors in her voice betrayed her cool exterior, but he knew. He always knew.



"Technically, the apartment is mine, Charisma...I let you live here. My name is the ONLY name on this lease..."



"SHUT UP. I've been here for 6 months, paying every bill, feeding YOUR ferret, and not a word from you. I don't need to hear it. Everyone knows who lives here and everyone knows you...

All of the things you say

He looked at her. His rough, grease stained hand reached to stroke her smooth round face.



"I love you and I need you to trust me."



Those cold, brown eyes told the stories that words failed. Telling the secrets of a tormented man.

She breathed for him. She held it together when he could not. Slick, salty trails begun to creep down his chisled face. Over the physical and emotional scars another had left behind. His face was the map of his world. A Marine. The cold, harsh world all completely visible to her.

She tried to patch the wall, but it was too late for that now...

...

And she prayed as she wished and wished as she prayed that the thoughts of him would eventually subside. That the past would only leave the change within herself taking the memories of his skin upon hers. The memories of spoken truths and deeper unspoken lies. She didn't purposely dwell on the situation. Her mind tried to convince her that she was fine. The silly smiles came across as genuine even as the clenching feeling in her heart tightened. That feeling. The nagging. Never quite letting up. Always there, waiting, preying on her every action. She couldn't stop anything. She did not have control over that ugly thing in her chest.
But then, she thought to only blame herself. She knew. She saw it coming before he did. She tore down the walls and unlocked the doors. She gave him the trust and loyalty she had never given herself...

He betrayed that.
She begged him. Pleaded. That day. Please, don't abuse this.
Please, please, please...



That day. By the pool. She knew. She saw the betrayal in the clear, blue water. She felt his truths deep inside of her. She knew. With each thrust. With each moan. With each sigh.
But they continued. Never once stopping to consider the consequences. His lies. Her hopes. His dreams. Her exagerrations. But the dirty four letter word grew. It overtook them.
It killed them.

She knew. It could never be her. She was merely a replacement for the muse. And he her muse. The circle. Everything in life is a circle.
Perfect. Disasterous. Beautiful.
He was her everything, she his almost.
Need overcame him. Need destroyed her. The love remained, but the feelings changed....
Cancerous? A trainwreck more appropriate. They knew they were only hurting themselves, each other...
The carnage remains.