emotional

This is where I leave you.

I leave you by the cracks in the pavement where we said our last goodbyes. When promises were nothing but spoken illusions under starlit skies. I have nothing against you, I just want nothing from you. Because everything you did merits no reply. Everything you said, were nothing but lies.

I watch nostalgia pick you apart. Take you down from your pedestal, piece by piece, and inch by inch. I have nothing left, aside from the memories I have packed for you to take at your will. I don’t need this anymore. I don’t need you anymore. Everything you did was never my fault, but how carelessly I believed otherwise. This is the last time, and this time I mean it.

How carelessly you held my heart, and dangled it in front of me from a string. I wasn’t good enough for my own heart and never good enough for you. I watched you go through your rolodexes of people and never paid no mind to me. And you wonder where this leaves us after all this time? You wonder if after all these years, would I still bother for your time?

I am done and this is my parting note.

This is where I leave you. I leave you with this goodbye.

11/5/2010

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8/27/2015 – Day Thirteen.

I was suppose to go home today.

Home.

Back to reality. Back to my house, my room, my car, my friends and my family. It’s weird how I always put friends before family, when at times I don’t feel as if I have any left. We are all so busy living and finding ourselves, right? It’s easy to say “I miss you” and wonder how many believe that sentiment. Those are just my thoughts on the subject, its not like anyone is listening anyway.

I was suppose to go home today. Return, board a plane and jump back into what I should be doing. Instead of living within the clouds, high in the hills. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t pack my things and ask myself if I was fine. Instead I changed my flight and stayed a few more days. I could have easily sulked and returned home to my hometown. Back where I belong. With the same faces, different circumstances. Something inside of me wasn’t ready yet. The more I thought about packing my bags and returning home, the more anxious I become. I am alienating a world of people and the longer I stay here, the longer I don’t have to answer to anyone. Because nothing is wrong with me.

I am okay. I am okay. I swear.

What if I missed something when I am here. What if everything I am searching for is closer than I think. I am tired of thinking about things, I should be doing. Why can’t I focus on nothing and expect everything? The weather is changing today. Cooler skies make colder mornings. The skin I once exposed has been covered from head to toe. I wonder if people can see my depressed state. See you’re hurting deep within your soul. If they can see it through your fake facade of happiness or feel it whisper to them when no one hears you.  The marks I hide on my face and my arms and I wonder if scabs heal faster than scars. The clouds are coming in. I am sitting in empty rooms on empty chairs, going over things in my empty mind. Listening to songs, where the melody flows through my ears and out the other. Words are words, that continue to be wrapped up in melody. The more I pick at my scabs the more exposed my scars are. I distract myself to combat the sadness. I read stories about broken girls that want to be put back together again. I sit alone and wonder to myself, if I still feel broken. If I still feel the need to put myself back together again.

Is this how I put myself back together again? Reading books of broken girls that just want to be whole again? I sit in empty rooms on empty chairs and read stories of girls who feel empty inside. I don’t feel that way. Not in the least. Not at this moment.

 

8/21/2015 – Day Ten.

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Life has been nonstop since the beginning of this trip. So much that at times I feel suffocated with the day to day activities. Some days my body can’t take it and other days I can’t help but force myself to solider on. I put my mask on better than everyone, but being so far from home doesn’t make sense, to force myself to be who I am at home. I rinse off the day and go on my way. Barefaced, hair a mess and pray no one notices me.

When you get older you stop caring about how you look to people. You reach a point where the only person you really care to impress, is yourself. After turning 30, you lose a sense of insecurity about appearance. What I used to care about in my 20’s, has completely disappeared in my 30’s. I have always been insecure about my weight and appearance but when you’re far from home, you really stop giving a shit. I don’t care what people think of me. I reached a point where the mirror holds two faces, Who I see and who I feel. Sometimes I don’t even know who I am anymore. When you face yourself without masks, without makeup, without any trace of your superficial self, you get a sense of who you really are. I am not my eyeliner or mascara or any of the thousands of creams I use on my face. At the same time, I am not the barefaced individual I see before me. You lose a sense of identity after years of hiding beneath masks, but at the same time you’re faced with the reality of how you really feel about yourself. As I inch closer into my 30’s I realize that every year I lose a layer of insecurity that I thought I needed before. I realize that going out of the house without makeup isn’t the end of the world, even if at times I felt as it was.

Lately I just want the rains to weigh me down and absorb into my skin. I want the water to match the streams that fall from my face. I want a lot of things. Mainly to slow down enough to truly enjoy the rain and not run from it. Running for cover to shield myself from the downpours. I want to breathe again and honestly feel the air rise and fall in my chest and into my lungs. I watch as the shell of my former self breaks down at what she used to love.  I feel my heart turn to glass and know that at any given moment it will break. When you are occupied with your surroundings you push everything you feel deeper inside of you. I wish I could put into words how it feels. The faster moments come, the sooner the come down. Slow down, relax, feel the weight of the rain on your skin. I just want to stand in silence in complete aw of this large city. Sit and watch the views. Watch as the sky clears.

Barefaced, hair a mess, and feeling fine.

Goodnight, Bad Morning.

Goodnight, another bad morning. 

There was something peaceful about watching you sleep. Knowing that for once you would have nothing to say. Keeping everything inside, when in turn you would die to tell everyone. Inside where no one not even I would hear. Moments like these don’t last forever. Eventually that moment between night and day, we are bound to wake up from. At this point I didn’t care about anything. Not this time, not at this moment. Not the feelings, not the honesty about these reactions. I don’t think I ever slept for fear of waking up and knowing you’d be gone. Gone to reality. Gone to someone else. Gone to the person you were in the daylight.

For those moments when you slept, I loved you so much that my body ached. I loved you so much that it hurt my head. I knew this couldn’t last forever. Doing all these wrongs, never made a right. The morning would wake us and back to the carriages that were already turned into pumpkins. Back to the terrible reality that awaits us. Back to the doors to our souls we close so tightly behind our hearts. But when the night skies fight with the daylight thats when I loved you best. Thats when I felt everything and in turn said nothing. Maybe I was always dreaming. Waking up never felt as good as this moment. I could love you forever if I wanted to. I just don’t think I can. I don’t ever want to wake up.

Doing all these bad things, never made me feel good. Wanting you now, never changed who you were when we woke up. Even good nights have bad mornings. Even you will wake up to be as rotten as the rest. But that moment where the night fights with the daylight, is when I always loved you best. When my body ached from my head to my toes. When no matter how many times I cried out to you, you stayed right where you were. The only times I could have you is when the night would fight with the light. I know I have to wake up from this. I know I have to wake up to who you really are. We are the most terrible people in the most perfect lighting. But at this moment, this current state, even terrible people can sometimes be beautiful too.

What a beautiful state we’re in. 

3/16/2007