Yeah...I'm doing it this time by myself...No strange men in my bed to keep your spot warm. No sleeping around to push the pain back. Everything is what it is...Real, raw, painful, there.
I can't do anything this time, Marcus. I can't keep doing this with you for the rest of my life.
I know that you usually come back and say that you're sorry and tell me how much I didn't deserve the treatment and I know that those are my fondest memories of the most recent past. It's sick, really, to look back and smile when I think of the tears in your eyes and the remorse in your voice. When I think about how you cannot stand the thought of me with someone else. It's disgusting to be happy about someone else's pain, but you cause it everytime. You hurt me...I wonder if it's intentional or if you have some bigger plan attached to your evil.
I don't really know that you have any idea how bad it actually does hurt. I'm tired of trying to explain it and I am tired of talking about it because according to (nearly) everyone, I have brought it upon myself.
Who knows...Maybe this time you won't come back...I hope you do. I hope you come back like you have every other time with an apology and a kind word.
I still love you. Maybe I'll talk to you tomorrow.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Keepsakes (genre assignment)
Keepsakes:
What is it? I look at it...Shrouded in the typical clichéd symbolism of all jewelry. Everyone knows what it means or what it is supposed to mean. The Journey. The trek through the never ending trials and tribulations of love. It’s meant to be a representation of how love starts small and keeps growing until the end. It's hopeful. It's thoughtful. It's bright and shiny and full of optimism.
I've never been a true optimist and I haven't been hopeful in years.
See, we started out so big, like the bottom of this pendant. Bigger than this, that's obvious. Better than this.
Before I met you, I was weak and naive.
You were a force and together we were a hurricane, slamming into the coast. I could do anything with you by my side and you finally had someone to listen to your stories and wipe away your tears without judging you or spilling your secrets. It was you and I....We were resilient…Not unlike this large diamond. I thought we were stronger than anything because nothing is harder, stronger, than a diamond.
But then I met her.
She cut me down with her accusations and the seeds of ignorance you had planted in her mind. She cut you down with her nagging and name calling. She spilt all of your secrets. She used them to form weapons. She cut us down with her undeniable truths. She cut us down, not enough to kill us completely, but enough to convince you that you should leave…
But like that little pendant, something keeps us attached. You came home. You always come home. No matter how many times she tries to separate us and kill us, you come back. You always leave, but you always come back.
But we are no longer a force…Each time you return just a little bit smaller, just a little weaker, just a little bit less of the man I once knew.
I’m waiting on you. I’m attached to you like the settings of these stones. I’m holding us in place until the day you finally make a decision. Until you finally gain the courage to build us back to the force that we once were. I’m holding everything in place, but the settings and the chains are weakening with time and wear. The little arguments and the little jabs at each other’s soft spots wear at the bond. Her manipulations and her lies are adding to the stress. She tells you one thing, bending you. She tells me another, bending me. Even the strongest of metal will succumb to enough heat and pressure. Eventually, stress points will form and everything will snap. It has already started.
But for now, it holds. The settings, the chain, the bond. Everything is in place. Everything stays right where it was the day it was given to me.
But one day…
What is it? I look at it...Shrouded in the typical clichéd symbolism of all jewelry. Everyone knows what it means or what it is supposed to mean. The Journey. The trek through the never ending trials and tribulations of love. It’s meant to be a representation of how love starts small and keeps growing until the end. It's hopeful. It's thoughtful. It's bright and shiny and full of optimism.
I've never been a true optimist and I haven't been hopeful in years.
See, we started out so big, like the bottom of this pendant. Bigger than this, that's obvious. Better than this.
Before I met you, I was weak and naive.
You were a force and together we were a hurricane, slamming into the coast. I could do anything with you by my side and you finally had someone to listen to your stories and wipe away your tears without judging you or spilling your secrets. It was you and I....We were resilient…Not unlike this large diamond. I thought we were stronger than anything because nothing is harder, stronger, than a diamond.
But then I met her.
She cut me down with her accusations and the seeds of ignorance you had planted in her mind. She cut you down with her nagging and name calling. She spilt all of your secrets. She used them to form weapons. She cut us down with her undeniable truths. She cut us down, not enough to kill us completely, but enough to convince you that you should leave…
But like that little pendant, something keeps us attached. You came home. You always come home. No matter how many times she tries to separate us and kill us, you come back. You always leave, but you always come back.
But we are no longer a force…Each time you return just a little bit smaller, just a little weaker, just a little bit less of the man I once knew.
I’m waiting on you. I’m attached to you like the settings of these stones. I’m holding us in place until the day you finally make a decision. Until you finally gain the courage to build us back to the force that we once were. I’m holding everything in place, but the settings and the chains are weakening with time and wear. The little arguments and the little jabs at each other’s soft spots wear at the bond. Her manipulations and her lies are adding to the stress. She tells you one thing, bending you. She tells me another, bending me. Even the strongest of metal will succumb to enough heat and pressure. Eventually, stress points will form and everything will snap. It has already started.
But for now, it holds. The settings, the chain, the bond. Everything is in place. Everything stays right where it was the day it was given to me.
But one day…
Monday, January 12, 2009
Fiction(ish)
It's an odd feeling, this sobriety as they call it.
Nothing really sobering about it.
I feel lost and trapped with my own thoughts.
I feel that any crazy thing that has ever crossed my mind was, in deed, crazy.
I feel that maybe my true muse was alcohol.
Or maybe you're my true muse after all.
I miss your face. I miss your skin on mine. As many tears as I have shed behind you, I must say I miss being able to cry over something other than you.
Nothing really sobering about it.
I feel lost and trapped with my own thoughts.
I feel that any crazy thing that has ever crossed my mind was, in deed, crazy.
I feel that maybe my true muse was alcohol.
Or maybe you're my true muse after all.
I miss your face. I miss your skin on mine. As many tears as I have shed behind you, I must say I miss being able to cry over something other than you.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Germs (From Naming the World)
Germs Assignment:
A girl wearing expensive shoes on an unmade bed in a cheap, dingy hotel room, crying.
I stare at her: her makeup running races down her round cheeks. Her dark hair matted with tears and sweat, struggling with her expensive blouse, too frustrated and upset to complete the simple task of dressing herself. I reach for the right side of the shirt, unsure of whether to remove it or attempt to help her put it in place. She slaps my hand and begins to sob loudly. Her eyes meet mine for a single fleeting moment. I begin to study the filthy, threadbare carpet beneath my feet. I glance at the wall behind her shaking body. Disgusting remnants of former guests are smeared above the headboard.
She doesn't belong here, but I have brought her to this place. Her hopes and love for me have carried her to places far away from her cushy upper class upbringings to a seedy motel in rural Missouri. She is bigger than this.
My mouth won't open, but the words are right there. They're choking me. I clear my throat.
"Look. I..."
"I don't want to hear your fucking mouth. Not a fucking word, Marcus. Nothing you say can save this now."
So small, so classic, so dignified, but her anger has, again, gotten the best of her.
"You have done this..."
"And I can't fix it now."
I've heard her song so many times, its lyrics, etched into my mind. I nod. My song is one that she knows all too well. My song is unchanging. Someday I will be better. Someday, it will be you and I. Someday, I will be different. I cannot say nor do anything because this, this sad portrait of a misplaced soul, is the mess that I have made.
"What do you want me to say, Amelia? Do you want me to tell you I'm leaving today? Do you want me to tell you that I'm miraculously cured? That I can just walk away from her and promise that I will never cheat on you again? Is that what you want to hear?"
"No, Marcus. I want to know why I'm not good enough...Why I'm never good enough..."
I shake my head and grasp her chin in my rough hands.
"You are good enough. You are perfect. We've been through this."
She jerks her head, her eyes green and alive with a hatred fueled by contempt and self-loathing. She’s testing me. She’s daring me to say something wrong, to say something right, to say anything.
"Well, do me a favor and refresh my damn memory."
I sigh and look at the ceiling. I slowly bring my eyes back down to meet hers. In that instant, they’re blue and it’s gone. The hatred and loathing and shame have been replaced by blind faith. I reach out to her, deliberately, purposefully, like I am reaching out to a frightened animal. She doesn’t move. Instead, she leans into me. A solitary tear slides down her face and drops onto her chest. She kisses me and I kiss back. It begins again. It’s so right and so incredibly wrong at the same time.
I can't do this with her anymore. I love her, but I am not capable of being the person she deserves.
A girl wearing expensive shoes on an unmade bed in a cheap, dingy hotel room, crying.
I stare at her: her makeup running races down her round cheeks. Her dark hair matted with tears and sweat, struggling with her expensive blouse, too frustrated and upset to complete the simple task of dressing herself. I reach for the right side of the shirt, unsure of whether to remove it or attempt to help her put it in place. She slaps my hand and begins to sob loudly. Her eyes meet mine for a single fleeting moment. I begin to study the filthy, threadbare carpet beneath my feet. I glance at the wall behind her shaking body. Disgusting remnants of former guests are smeared above the headboard.
She doesn't belong here, but I have brought her to this place. Her hopes and love for me have carried her to places far away from her cushy upper class upbringings to a seedy motel in rural Missouri. She is bigger than this.
My mouth won't open, but the words are right there. They're choking me. I clear my throat.
"Look. I..."
"I don't want to hear your fucking mouth. Not a fucking word, Marcus. Nothing you say can save this now."
So small, so classic, so dignified, but her anger has, again, gotten the best of her.
"You have done this..."
"And I can't fix it now."
I've heard her song so many times, its lyrics, etched into my mind. I nod. My song is one that she knows all too well. My song is unchanging. Someday I will be better. Someday, it will be you and I. Someday, I will be different. I cannot say nor do anything because this, this sad portrait of a misplaced soul, is the mess that I have made.
"What do you want me to say, Amelia? Do you want me to tell you I'm leaving today? Do you want me to tell you that I'm miraculously cured? That I can just walk away from her and promise that I will never cheat on you again? Is that what you want to hear?"
"No, Marcus. I want to know why I'm not good enough...Why I'm never good enough..."
I shake my head and grasp her chin in my rough hands.
"You are good enough. You are perfect. We've been through this."
She jerks her head, her eyes green and alive with a hatred fueled by contempt and self-loathing. She’s testing me. She’s daring me to say something wrong, to say something right, to say anything.
"Well, do me a favor and refresh my damn memory."
I sigh and look at the ceiling. I slowly bring my eyes back down to meet hers. In that instant, they’re blue and it’s gone. The hatred and loathing and shame have been replaced by blind faith. I reach out to her, deliberately, purposefully, like I am reaching out to a frightened animal. She doesn’t move. Instead, she leans into me. A solitary tear slides down her face and drops onto her chest. She kisses me and I kiss back. It begins again. It’s so right and so incredibly wrong at the same time.
I can't do this with her anymore. I love her, but I am not capable of being the person she deserves.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
You are your own victim.
You are your own victim.
Anything you suffer comes from within yourself.
You say you need time to think, you've got a lot on your plate,
But thinking does nothing if change doesn't come.
You are your own victim.
You say you relish your solitude,
you love the idea of being alone,
but you lie.
You cannot stand being alone anymore than I.
Anything you suffer comes from within yourself.
You say you need time to think, you've got a lot on your plate,
But thinking does nothing if change doesn't come.
You are your own victim.
You say you relish your solitude,
you love the idea of being alone,
but you lie.
You cannot stand being alone anymore than I.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Goodbye 2008, you shitty year...
I am so glad that I am not drunk like the rest of my "crew."
B is in Owasso with Tooley...Who is not either one of the guys who have proposed to her this week. Genius idea. Had she not broke up with the good one, she would be in Tulsa, safe and sound...Not sleeping with a 29 year old career bouncer. Sad, sad...
Strawberry is crying, drunk, and driving around Tulsa. Karmen is riding with her, drunk and crying because she broke up with Philly. Ah, drama. Sure don't miss that.
Athema is shacked up at her house with her boyfriend who is young enough to be her son.
HA. I'm at work. Making money. That's what I do: Work.
B's little drama set off my own insecurities today. I'm so glad that you are capable of dealing with me without getting angry or irritated. I know that I did it to myself. I upset myself. I love you more than you can possibly understand. You're a breath of fresh air in the smoke thickened world that is my life. I'm not biding my time with you. You know that wasn't necessarily the best choice of words, but it makes sense. I could find someone else if I agreed with your notion that I have convinced myself that I cannot do better. I haven't convinced myself of anything. I don't like that word: Convinced. To me, convincing someone (even yourself) of something means that you have tricked them into believing a falsehood. I have not been tricked. You have convinced yourself that I can do better. I see it like this: Every horrible lie you have ever told, every time you have ever cheated, every person you have ever wronged do not outweigh a single good thing you have done. I cannot say with all surety that you are ever going to change, all I can do is hope that one day, you realize you are more than you let yourself be. You are bigger than the turmoil that you leave in the wake.
For everything that I have ever had to courage to say, there are a thousand little things left unsaid. I say I fear only failure, but in reality, I fear that I may eventually lose you. Fear is the heart of all love and I have never been more afraid of anything in my life.
So I will be here. I cannot walk away from this and I cannot fail you.
I love you.
B is in Owasso with Tooley...Who is not either one of the guys who have proposed to her this week. Genius idea. Had she not broke up with the good one, she would be in Tulsa, safe and sound...Not sleeping with a 29 year old career bouncer. Sad, sad...
Strawberry is crying, drunk, and driving around Tulsa. Karmen is riding with her, drunk and crying because she broke up with Philly. Ah, drama. Sure don't miss that.
Athema is shacked up at her house with her boyfriend who is young enough to be her son.
HA. I'm at work. Making money. That's what I do: Work.
B's little drama set off my own insecurities today. I'm so glad that you are capable of dealing with me without getting angry or irritated. I know that I did it to myself. I upset myself. I love you more than you can possibly understand. You're a breath of fresh air in the smoke thickened world that is my life. I'm not biding my time with you. You know that wasn't necessarily the best choice of words, but it makes sense. I could find someone else if I agreed with your notion that I have convinced myself that I cannot do better. I haven't convinced myself of anything. I don't like that word: Convinced. To me, convincing someone (even yourself) of something means that you have tricked them into believing a falsehood. I have not been tricked. You have convinced yourself that I can do better. I see it like this: Every horrible lie you have ever told, every time you have ever cheated, every person you have ever wronged do not outweigh a single good thing you have done. I cannot say with all surety that you are ever going to change, all I can do is hope that one day, you realize you are more than you let yourself be. You are bigger than the turmoil that you leave in the wake.
For everything that I have ever had to courage to say, there are a thousand little things left unsaid. I say I fear only failure, but in reality, I fear that I may eventually lose you. Fear is the heart of all love and I have never been more afraid of anything in my life.
So I will be here. I cannot walk away from this and I cannot fail you.
I love you.
A Rant for stupid people.
B,
Really? Shut the fuck up. I am soooooo sorry that you lie and cheat. I am sooooooo sorry that you are leaving a good man who takes care of your bad ass children for "Dave" who has never been totally serious with you, lied about his real name up until last year, and is still just fucking with your feelings. I'm also sorry that Dave is bad in bed and that the only reason you are choosing him over the other is because he is white and closer to your age. You're a complete idiot. Seriously. I don't want to hear your bullshit when "Dave" picks up his shit and leaves you and those bebe's kids sitting on the curb. He's not going to tolerate your party lifestyle...And what you are failing to see is that if he actually does marry you, you'll live together...Makes it super hard to cheat there buddy... The other one is so good to you. He actually tries to pull you out of this "welfare" slump you are in. So what if the engagement ring was only 1/8 of a carat? Do you think that you actually deserve anything bigger? I don't.
And how dare you say that I am not stable enough to have children. You think that you are? Do you think that leaving the kids with a babysitter all day, everyday is good for them? Especially when you leave them with that punk kid who is mean to them...Those poor, adorable children never had a chance. You're too busy looking for Mr. Sugar Daddy to see that those kids need some damned discipline...And not the kind you give them. You can't just yell at them everytime they do something you don't like. You have to be good to them and guide them...WTF man? You can't tell me nothin'.
C,
You are seriously flawed. That man doesn't love you. How much more obvious can it get? You do this to yourself. Of course he didn't buy you the ring you wanted, you dumbass...He doesn't listen to you! Besides, why would you ask for jewelry when you haven't even been with the man a full year? I've never straight out asked Marcus for jewelry...You're crazy.
Really? Shut the fuck up. I am soooooo sorry that you lie and cheat. I am sooooooo sorry that you are leaving a good man who takes care of your bad ass children for "Dave" who has never been totally serious with you, lied about his real name up until last year, and is still just fucking with your feelings. I'm also sorry that Dave is bad in bed and that the only reason you are choosing him over the other is because he is white and closer to your age. You're a complete idiot. Seriously. I don't want to hear your bullshit when "Dave" picks up his shit and leaves you and those bebe's kids sitting on the curb. He's not going to tolerate your party lifestyle...And what you are failing to see is that if he actually does marry you, you'll live together...Makes it super hard to cheat there buddy... The other one is so good to you. He actually tries to pull you out of this "welfare" slump you are in. So what if the engagement ring was only 1/8 of a carat? Do you think that you actually deserve anything bigger? I don't.
And how dare you say that I am not stable enough to have children. You think that you are? Do you think that leaving the kids with a babysitter all day, everyday is good for them? Especially when you leave them with that punk kid who is mean to them...Those poor, adorable children never had a chance. You're too busy looking for Mr. Sugar Daddy to see that those kids need some damned discipline...And not the kind you give them. You can't just yell at them everytime they do something you don't like. You have to be good to them and guide them...WTF man? You can't tell me nothin'.
C,
You are seriously flawed. That man doesn't love you. How much more obvious can it get? You do this to yourself. Of course he didn't buy you the ring you wanted, you dumbass...He doesn't listen to you! Besides, why would you ask for jewelry when you haven't even been with the man a full year? I've never straight out asked Marcus for jewelry...You're crazy.
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