Distance.

I am seeing ghosts in the places where people used to be. The fog comes for people quickly leaving behind their bodies but taking with them their soul and bones. I wonder how much of what you believe, you believe for yourself. Leaving behind your wounded and settling ashore. I could tell you everything. Anything you wanted to hear. Now I sit and watch a ghost of you, mimic your same thoughts.

What did I do to merit all this silence?
What did I do to lose all your mistrust?

I could ask myself a thousand questions but never get a single answer. How generic our thoughts become once we start to lose someone. How simple our responses once we’ve lost it all. The world is filled with busy movers and shakers. Filled with replacements ready to take our place. But I’m too afraid of the dark to see you gone. To afraid of ghosts and their spirits that linger after. I am sorry, I couldn’t be who you wanted me to be. I am sorry, that I disappointed you just as the others did. Maybe it was foolish to believe that we could live forever. Instead I am living with all the ghosts you left and the memories after.

If I could take everything back I would. Anything to bring back what we had before. Everything that made the imperfections perfect. The responses realistic. Anything to take away the generically calculated conversations. Anything to take away the awkwardness of today and tomorrow. I can’t bring you back, if you don’t want to try. I can’t asks ghosts to bring back the dead, once they’ve already left. I can’t ask people to stay with me, once they’re already miles away. All this distance just to find a peace of mind. All this mystery just to prove that what you’ll miss is what you always took advantage of. Saying sorry is better than saying goodbye. Goodbye would mean this would be over and sorry proves that maybe there’s just one last chance.

Just one last chance, before you go completely.

I promise, I’ll change.
I promise, I’ll be better to you.
I promise, I’ll stop being so fucking selfish because all that really matters is you.

I am sorry.

1/22/2012

 

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If I don’t write this down, I’ll never let go of it. I’ll never find my way to say the things I’ve always wanted to say. There are places that stay stitched in your memory. Vividly that you often believe that they happened just yesterday. Memories of people, places and things and how they made you feel. Its easy to misplace these thoughts and hide them deep within ourselves. But on those days when you search to remember, you find it right where you left it. Right into the depths of your soul. On the days that I don’t feel like myself, I go searching for this place. The place that made me feel the safest, that made all the nightmares disappear. It’s amazing how your mind works when you search to remember. Because its these memories that feel like they were yesterday but reality is that it were years ago.

I find myself dreaming of that house. The house with the tiny yard in the middle of the alley. I shouldn’t be looking back, I should be always looking forward. When things get bad, I find myself running toward that house in my memory. To the gravel road and the broken fences. Back to the home that always felt so large in stature. Large in wonderment and memory. The more I think about it, the more the memories rush toward me. The light that harbors inside every corner of that house, that opened up parts of myself I often forget. I was never this negative. I was never truly this heartbroken. Once upon a time, I stretched my arms out as far as they could reach and span around in circles to dream.  I felt dreams, aspirations, and believed that everything was possible. I wasn’t afraid to dream and these days I am afraid of everything. When it hurts to move on, I think of that house. That little gray house that stands in the middle of the alley. Because no matter where I go, I look toward that house to come home. Because to me, after all these years it feels like home.

It’s taken me so long to realize this but this house doesn’t feel like home. I hold my items in a house that feels fragile to the touch. We hide ourselves in rooms in the darkest corners of this house. We hide ourselves from the world, when everything used to be so out in the open. We occupy our time with being people we never intended to be. I can’t help but feel alone, feeling we lost something the moment we moved. Maybe its just me. Maybe I am the crazy one that puts too much emotion into stationary things. But some nights, I still dream that I am back there. At that little house that always felt so large in stature. That little house that always felt so open with life. That little house that felt like home to me. I’ve moved and lived in so many places. Big to biggest cities but no where feels like home. Most nights I don’t remember where I am. Most nights I dream I am somewhere else and waking up some place else. Because the point of growing up is finding where you fit in, in the world. Finding out where is home to you and where you belong.

Nothing feels like home anymore. My body is just placed in different places but none of them feel like home. Because home was where I once felt I had a family. Where I once felt like I had everything. Where my dreams were bigger than my body. I miss that. I miss outstretching my arms to the sky and spinning around in circles. I miss the feelings that went away as soon as I got older and started to forget. Its so easy to forget where you came from. To forget what brought you to the places that you’re at right at this moment. Its not that I want to forget, it just hurts too much to remember that once I was happy. Once I cared so much and believed I could be anything. Now I just feel numb, that this place doesn’t feel like me. Even though my blood, sweat, and tears formed this house, my heart never belonged here.

Never said goodbye to the house, as I should have done years ago. I never reached out my arms to the walls and said everything I wanted to say. In dreams I go back and whisper everything I feel at the moment. I tell all my secrets in dreams and forget I have to wake up eventually. I haunt myself with memories that don’t exist anymore. Looking to the past when I should be looking toward the future. But when my heart is hurting and my mind is blank, I go searching for this place. This vacant place that doesn’t exist anymore. Its been so long since I’ve been back that being face to face with it, doesn’t hold the same emotion as it once did. But once upon a time, I felt love in this house. For the longest time this was home to me. Now I have to find where I belong.

Where do I belong.

11/9/2005

I am not her.

I remind people of someone they’d like to forget. Mothers, sisters, lovers, daughters. I remind people of someone so vile they lose a sense of human decency. I become a punching bag of the ghosts of women past. Someone they can point a finger at and blame all their problems on. I am an easy target, for all I do is take all these emotions and harbor them inside. Its the memories that keep this illusion of who I am alive in your memory. Who you think I am and who I am is completely different to you and me. You could care less who I really am. All that matters is who you believe I am. All I do is just keep reminding you of liars, sinners, and deceitful people.

The memories of the past are what haunt you. Clouding your judgement and making this image of who you think I am. Everything I do is wrong in your world. Reminding you of people from your past that you long to forget. I remind you of every hurt emotion and the pain that follows. You scream, fight, and laugh in my face. You point your judgmental fingers at me and cut me down to the size you believe fit for me. You should have stayed alone, you should have stayed away from me. But you didn’t. There was always something about me that made me different from the rest. Then again there was always something about me that reminded you of pieces of everyone you tried to forget. If you could hurt me, you would. If you could take everything away from me, you would.

If you want me to hate you, I will. I will bandage all these bruises and hide all these scars, and never forgive you. It was only a matter of time before I began to hate you. Hate you for everything you stood for. Hate you for the lies, the sorrow and the grief. But like you, there was something about you that I couldn’t stay away. So I stayed with the belief that I was being punished for everything any female had ever done wrong to you. If you cut me, I will bleed. If you hurt me, I won’t forget. Its your memories that haunt you with these illusions of who you think I am. But I am not her. I am not them, I just wish you would see that.

I remind you of a person from your past. People you wished didn’t exist so everything would stop hurting for once. I remind you of the sinners dressed up like saints. The girl that said she loved you but became a woman that said she can’t.  But I can’t pretend that these cuts don’t hurt, when I see them bleeding. That when you drag me through the mud, it doesn’t scrape my knees. I remind people of someone they would like to forget. But I hope you remember that I am not her.

I am not her.

4/17/2008

Still.

My mind moves a mile a minute. Non-stop thoughts. Thinking of you, thinking of me, thinking of us and everything that falls in-between. I watch all this energy harness in every single one of my fingertips. I can’t stop this shaking, this aching feeling. Something is going to happen, something is about to blow. I’d rather everything blow up in my face, then have nothing happen at all. Still I stay here, lying still, waiting.

I hear the wind muffle the sounds of my breathing. This pain, this ache, this energy that keeps me awake at night. If only there was a reason for all this mess. If only there was a reason for feeling this way. These thoughts are never ending. Maybe in the end, this is all my fault. I am the reason for this source of undoing. Because it was always me that waited too long to say anything. It was always me that spoke up at all the wrong times. I could replay every single conversation, word for word, and no matter what happens, I’m still here. I’m still here, lying still, waiting.

When did I get to this point? How can I make it stop? The more I sit here the more I wonder why I couldn’t just control myself. Control my actions and my reactions. Say exactly how I feel at exactly the right time. I know I am only human, and being human means making mistakes. Was this all just one big mistake? Was this all just my fault in believing the unobtainable could be obtainable? My hands shake and my breathing gets heavy, still I stay here, lying still, waiting.

What use is waiting if I never get what I want. Whats the use of being good when everything we want is so bad? Whats the point of all hopelessness, if no one ever has the hope in believing in us? I wish I had all the answers. I wish I knew that one day everything I feel would be worth it. That in the end, I would get everything I wanted. But I won’t. If I knew then what I know now, I wouldn’t have waiting so long for nothing. Because all waiting ever did was cause me so much pain. This ache in my chest, this pain in my heart and this feeling I could never shake off. I would have waited forever if it meant I could have everything I wanted. I could have you, me, and us. I could keep pretending that everything is my fault, that I missed my mark, but the past is still the past. The longer you wait the more you realize nothing is worth waiting for. You have time to realize that everything you wanted could be yours in a heartbeat. But I can’t help but keep waiting, lying here, still.

Still, I will stay.

11/15/2013

Shadow & Light

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The older I become, I watch my insecurities become less intense. All my insecurities that I’ve kept deep inside, finds a way of slowly disappearing. All the fears I once had slowly start to vanish. I find myself drawn to the light, from decades of being in love with the darkness. I find myself slowly appreciate my body instead of hiding away my skin through insecurity. If you only knew how much I hate the daylight, how I hated the sun and it’s over exposure on my skin. How much the sun reminds me of summer and reminds me that I hate the shape of my legs.  It’s not to say that insecurities change over night.  I still have a hard time with daylight but afternoon lighting makes everything dreamy.

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A little light changes the course of everything. How it finds a way to reach you even when you want to be forgotten. The light that reaches straight through the cracks of the blinds to illuminate everything you want to remain invisible. Invisible is how I want to be. To hide in the darkest corners of the room, where no one will find me. No one will see me in all my imperfections and flaws. No one will see my skin filled with scars or the insecurities I harbor because of the design of my body. But in this golden hour of the afternoon, it makes me feel invincible. That I can do anything. Even in my imperfections, if the light hits me just right, I can be beautiful. I slowly watch these insecurities break away in the afternoon light. Slowly piece by piece disappear into the rays of the sun.

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Our bodies are always a work in progress. Some days are easier than others. Some days I’ll embrace every flaw my body has to offer, and other days I’ll curse the sacred ground from which I stand upon. As time goes by I start falling in love with different aspects of myself. As I once loved the darkness and the ability to make myself disappear, its the light I can’t help but surround myself with. Light brings everything into perspective that the darkness seems to forget. Light helps me remember to love the parts of myself I often hide from the world. While I’ll always be insecure about different aspects of myself, my body shouldn’t ever be one of them. Slowly as the darkness fades into the light, slowly I become a little more accepting of my body.

It’s taken a long time to love the light, as long as it’s taken to love my body. I know eventually I will get there. Sooner better than later.

6/08/2015

Start it all over.

Drop everything, start it all over. 

Failure is not an option. However even on my best days, I can’t help but feel like one. All the choices I’ve made have their own repercussions. My mind goes a mile a minute, thinking, wondering, asking myself, if I have done the right thing. If what I am doing is where I really want to be. What is this existence of life that leaves me so unsatisfied.

Fear has a way of crippling you. Taking away your power to move on and move forward. Maybe this isn’t failing. Maybe this is my fear taking over my body and causing me to act strange. The longer I stay still, the longer I watch everything crowd around me. Surrounding myself by clutter, chaos, and clouded thoughts. I am sitting still watching every single thing pack up and leave from me. The scattered brain feeling of never ending chaos washes over me. This is the bottom. This is failing in every which way. This is the fear that can’t help but stake a claim in me. I am allowing this to happen. The more I hide under the covers, the more the sun seeks out to find me. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can’t keep pretending that I am okay, when everything around me is falling apart. This is what I wanted. I wanted this excuse to play into this part. Pretending I am fine and making believe this is what I really want. Crying isn’t going to solve anything. I can’t keep up with this juvenile facade of hating everything on site. We have to grow up sometime. We have to take advantage of the day and start fucking living.

Perhaps everything I need is nothing at all. What I need is to start over and reclaim this new life for myself. Start fresh, start new. Take everything and burn it to the ground. Every single material item I once thought to be important. Give every last inch of my former life away and start again. Begin as a different person, a clean slate. It’s with nothing that I can honestly feel something. Its after everything is gone that I can truly ever really move on. Material items have a way of holding you back. Making you believe that its with these things, that they will help you grow. Instead I am clouded with debt and sadness, this never ending madness that can’t keep me a float. I need a new beginning. I need a clean sale. I need nothing but something to keep this fear away. I need something to take me away from this nothing way of feeling. I watch the fear paralyze this new beginning. Changing course of all my needs and filling them with nonsense. I expected more from this existence then settling for mediocrity. But this is what I want. This is how I chose to live my life. Standing on the sidelines and watching everyone go by with their brand spanking new life.

But I know I can start again. Drop everything and start it all over. I just need to wake up from this mad way of thinking. Wake up from this chaos and work toward this new tomorrow. I can start today, I can start tomorrow. The point is finding a way to start. Maybe I am a failure in every possible way. But we all have to get up sometime and that time is today.

4/14/2014

Color.

Life has a way of putting you through the wringer and back. To the extent that your vision becomes clouded by haziness. You stop looking for an excuse to look for color and become fixated on the dreary and the drab. All color is, is an excuse to burn brightly into happiness. When all you want to do is sink beneath the depths of darkness. Becoming emotionally attached to colors so dark that it would burn a hole straight to your soul. When you’re hurting all you want is for the world to mimic your same emotion. Become a backdrop to your own misery. Transitioning from the grays to slates and into the dark black night sky. Those are all the colors you want to see. Something emotionally profound that only your broken soul could understand.

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Its the darkness with it’s smoke and mirrors. Illusions causing reflections of our own inner sadness that transcends into our waking day. This storm setting of overcast skies that causes everything to read in black and white. My soul only understands the darkness. The darkness that harbors my sadness better than I ever could. I’ve had my fair share of misery. I’ve basked in the glory of my own self pity and darkness. All I wanted to see was everything in dark tragic colors. It became my only way to communicate to the world. Through my own self reflections, I wanted my outsides to reflect my insides. To purge out my pain with the darkest of colors I could think of. Not an ounce of color. Not even a single strand. My vision sees the color but my thoughts only see in black and white and grays and slates.

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Pain has a way of chipping away at the things that you love the most. Turning everything you once loved into an array of things you start to despise. You could point the blame on everyone but find yourself blaming yourself for your own unhappiness. This hurt that suffocates and squeezes at your insides and takes away any ounce of light. Its the light that you reach out for to save you from this darkness. The light that can turn the dark skies brightly shined by the moonlight. The light that can illuminate a thousand stars to lead you home. When you’re ready to change, the colors start coming to you slowly. First you watch the stars illuminate your path and realize that the sky as black as night is really a darkest shade of blue. When you wake you start to notice the flowers start to bloom and you watch the colors they have been hibernating inside. As your sadness starts chipping away you start embracing the colors that surround you. You look forward to sunrises and sunsets. You start looking forward to daylight as you once looked forward to the night.

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You start screaming away the pain in color. Screaming out the vibrant blues and vivid greens. Reaching out to touch the colors just as they were painted for you to see. You start to wonder what was so great about sadness. What harbored all this darkness that made you pay no mind to the color that you see before you. Most days are longer than others. Most days you wrap yourself up with different shades of the colors from your memory and other days you can’t seem to cooperate with the daylight. Some days are easier than others. Some days you wake up and fill your heart with every pure emotion you feel. You project your outsides just as you feel your insides with a vibrancy of color that you feel. Other days you watch yourself strip away the color and return to the darkness that you harbored so carefully. But its no longer a burden for you. Its no longer something you keep trapped away for no one to see. Instead you start to realize that stars can’t shine without a little darkness. Days aren’t suppose to be easy but eventually one day you’ll understand everything.

Everything starts with a little color. Color blooming from every corner of your atmosphere. Some days are better than others. Some days get harder but eventually one day you’ll be okay. The colors will always be there to guide you home. Guiding your darkest days into the light. You just have to see it illuminate your way. You’ll get there.

I promise.

 

In my head.

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It’s only in my head.

There’s this thing I have where my mind doesn’t shut up. Where it wants to think about every single little thing and maximize it to the 100th power. I can’t control it. Once it starts, it can’t stop. I take meaningless ideas and turns them into masterpiece theater. The emotional damage just a single thought could do, ruins everything I could think about. It’s paranoia. It’s putting too much power into something that is clearly nothing. I just can’t stop it.

I try to think about rainbows
When it gets bad
You got to think about something
To keep from going mad

Its when you’re alone with your thoughts that you can’t help but find all the wrong things. Alone with these images that cause you nothing but insane madness. Maybe it is my fault. Maybe this is the reason everyone hates me. Maybe if I had said something different I could understand whats wrong with me. At the end of the day everything is my fault. I am the reason for all this misery, I am the reason why people don’t have a problem leaving. Its this never ending constant bickering in my head. But it’s only in my head right?

Only in my head.

I am going mad. I am keeping myself awake thinking of the past. Thinking of every passing moment and the chaos that comes with it. I am the cause to all my own problems. I am nitpicking every little thing and can’t stop and let things go. I say all the wrong things at the wrong times and turn around do the opposite. Making myself sick with these thoughts that seem to come at all the wrong times. I am making people out to be the monsters under my bed. I am driving myself insane making assumptions out of nothing. Who are these people that are more self righteous than the rest of us? Who are we to believe in the lies they tell us? I just believe everything I want to believe and pick out the wrongs in everything. I drive myself crazy and give myself these thoughts.

In my head
It’s only in my head

Maybe I am crazy. Maybe at the end of the day we are all a little insane. I just can’t stop these never ending thoughts. Am I doing all these things wrong? Am I the cause to all my problems? Have I missed my chance making all these mistakes? I am tired of thinking this way. Tired of keeping myself up at night with these thoughts that feel never ending. I don’t want to miss people anymore. I don’t want to think about all the things I have done wrong. I can’t control people’s actions and I sure as hell can’t control my reactions. Why should I be punished for my wrongs and left with these never ending constant thoughts? I am tired of the countless apologies I make up in my mind. I am tired of going over situations and believing I did any of this wrong. Maybe I am crazy but I am only fucking human. I make mistakes just like the rest of us.

Cause everybody wants everybody else

What does it matter. Why should I fucking care so much? Putting all this energy into meaningless bullshit that no one else cares about. At the end of the day I can change. I can change and be anything I want to be. But its when I come home and lay my head down at night, that I can’t escape these thoughts. They’re only in my head, only in my head right?

 

Wonderland.

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If reality were as perfect as our dreams, we’d never fall asleep. We’d formulate ways to stay closer to the ground, instead of reaching for the stars. Dreaming has a way of making you believe things so impossible could be real. How vivid the sounds, how vivacious the colors, and how beautiful the people in all their splendor. If only we could stay in this dream state for a little while longer. Just a little bit longer.

Flashing lights and we
Took a wrong turn and we
Fell down a rabbit hole.

It’s silly to believe that dreams could feel this realistic, when you know deep down you’re bond to wake up. Still I find myself believing in this unrealistic nonsense that somewhere in my subconscious, this could be real. Because in dreams is the only way that you and I exist. The only way that I truly believe had we made a play, this could have lasted. The only image I remember of you is so perfectly etched in my memory. Perfectly perfect in all your splendor as dreams intended for you to be. The real world would never let me have you. Reality was too much to bare and my obsession of fears could never allow you near.

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Still I reached for you and there you appear. Magic rabbits out of a hat, watching the colors of this story turn from vivid blues to vibrant greens. Dreams are our wonderland. Perfectly perplexed chaotic perfection. Watching ourselves run from one end of the mind to another. Spotlighting our mind to believe that this is exactly what we wanted in the end. Fears in reality take away the clouds of dreams. The tremor shakes in my hands stand still whenever you find me. I know I’ll have to come down from this, I know eventually I’ll have to come back home.

I reached for you but you were gone
I knew I had to go back home

The problems with dreaming is waking up to reality. Seeing things as they really need to be. If only reality were as wonderful as our dreams. Our dreams that shield us from our unimaginative reality. Its in dreams that we can run away. Its in dreams we are free to do as we imagine and believe. It’s in dreams I can believe that we have a chance when reality tells me other wise. Maybe I just have to let you go. A day will come when I reach for you and you’ll be gone. Wonderland is never suppose to be perfect, even behind smiles we find the lies and the cracks through the concrete. Still I just want to pretend that you’re perfectly perfected, even if this is our wonderland. Even in dreams we find reality, and in reality we find our madness. Wonderland you tricked me into believing that dreams could be as pure as perfection. Instead you made me mad in the process.

In the end in wonderland we both went mad.

It’s time for me to wake up now.

 

Blank.

Everything is vanishing faster than it appears.  Sand through the hourglass. I am chasing through the words finding myself falling to catch them. If only this were easy, if only this wasn’t so hard. It’s all just a game that my mind can’t quit playing. Searching through every never ending crevice and coming up empty handed. Finding the words to supplement everything you want to say and coming up blank.

Blank.

Racking my brain waiting for a sign. Looking to the clouded skies to find some piece of mind. Coming up empty as the fog clears through the sky. My mind goes a mile a minute but I can’t slow it down to grab the words to say what I need to say. I can’t formulate the magic to bring everything to the light. I come up empty. How long will this last, I’ll never know. A day, a week, a month of this empty space running through my brain. I’ve got nothing. Its the vacant silence that scares me the most. The moment the night hits my eyes and the whole world disappears. Words have a way of haunting you but they have a funny way of disappearing when you need them the most. You never know how much you need something until it’s gone. You never know how much words can mean to you, until you can’t reach them. Thats all you do, reach for something and obtain nothing.

I can’t stop it. I can’t keep fueling the fire. I given in to the notion that the words will find me when I stop looking for them. They’ll appear once I stop forcing them. Masterpieces aren’t built on illusions, but the will and the need to show to the world what we need to say. I just wish I could put together everything I need to say. Show to the world every single emotion I want to say out loud. But I can’t, all I do is come out empty.

Everything.

Blank.