heartbreak

Tonight.

He was easy to talk too. Someone, I could come home too. Come home from a long day and talk about everything. He carried a charm about him, that I found myself enamored by things he would say. Every minute became easier to be around him.

Could he really be this charming? Or is it all the drinks I am consuming?

I didn’t love him. Maybe, if anything, I had tiny feelings for him. At this point, who don’t I have feelings for. I would have feelings for a lamp post, because it gave me light. But thats just who I am. I love people only to disappoint them in the end. If anything he just made me feel safe. Like I could be honest about everything without judgement. Some part of him would be familiar, as if I had felt these sentiments before. I just couldn’t pinpoint where.

“Stop looking at your phone. Everything you need is right here”

He didn’t mean it condescendingly. Some parts of it is a corny drunken slur. And yet, I believed him.

I don’t want to go home. As dark as it was at the Bar, I could have stayed here for hours. Maybe I did, I can’t remember. I found myself drinking this ache in my chest away. With every sip, I will cut you out of my heart.

Maybe not tonight.
Tonight, let’s just think of something else. Anything else.

With every sip of his beer, his words would slur into something more meaningful then the next.

I didn’t buy it at the time. At the time, I couldn’t think of anyone else but someone else. Someone I should have left in the dust of my memories. Someone I should never have brought with me in my new life here. The same person that made me check my phone dozens of times, instead of realizing “everything you need is right here”.

“That’s not what you’re looking for”
“What am I looking for then?”
“Me”

I could have kissed him right there. In my drunken haze, in this dimly lit bar. I could have.

But I didn’t.

No amount of drinks will rid the person that hurt you out of your heart. No matter how many boys you kiss, its not going to take the taste of his lips away. No matter how many times I cut myself, its never going to get him out from under my skin.

I feel stupid drowning out my sadness with someone else, thinking about someone else.

Everything I need is right here.

And I know better now.

Burbank, CA 2009

 

Flashing Lights.

If something hurts you enough, you pretend it doesn’t exist. The less power you put on something, the more power you want to forget it. I can’t say I miss the past with it’s nostalgic cloud that hangs over me. I can’t say I miss you, without feeling like a fucking hypocrite. I love how memories form in between the liner notes. How melody haunts a montage of memories harbored deep inside of your soul. How people have a way of coming into your life, without physically being there anymore.

I should have said goodbye a long time ago. I should have written this elaborate “dear john” letter the moment things changed. The moment I couldn’t hear songs the same way. The moment I felt I couldn’t be myself anymore. I felt ruined, that a part of me stopped believing in the cliche kitschy things of yesterday. I lost, you won, and everything else that follows, but all of that is old news. This cloud of fog that follows. Opening up a series of smokey destinations, I didn’t know I wanted to exist anymore. Old distant news with headlines of the past.

Smoke and mirrors, and shooting stars. Waiting, wanting, and longing for things that never had a place with me to begin with. Even after all this time, I can’t help but wonder what was the biggest illusion. What was your biggest performance. This belief of being greater and better then the rulers of the past. The lights flash, the lights dim, and I can’t help but still wonder. Even stars fall, even lights dim, eventually the darkest nights make way for the brightest mornings. The further you fall, the closest to the ground you become. All I could ever want is to see you crash and burn, just like the rest of them. Maybe you need to hit rock bottom to see how it feels on the other side.

I would never wish bad things upon you, but I could never wish you well. Seeing the last of our memories behind the glass, in photographs and songs, I just can’t help myself. I was never the good, I was never the light, but I could be the darkness in all it’s glory. I hate myself for believing in all the wrong things. Believing in sinners dressed up as saints in their perfectly tailored suits. Watching the fog clear, watching the smoke disappear and everything has changed. Songs have a different meaning, once you can listen to them again. Melody fills the cracks where the light once hit. Sooner or later, I start to feel like myself again.

I don’t believe in shooting stars, but I never believed in the ghosts of memories you gave me.  You never wanted me to hate you, and I don’t. I just want to forgive then forget you, then move on.

2/15/2009

Homecoming.

Do you think about me now and then. 

Home is where the heart is, but my heart’s already broken. You could always come home. Come home to the familiar sounds, from the familiar streets, where the familiar faces meet. Come home to where the roads point back to the familiar memories, familiar stories that make up who you are. You could always come home, you tell yourself. Home is where the heart is, but my heart has been shattered. Where do I go from here?

Life doesn’t stop because you’ve left and gone. Life goes on even when you’ve forgotten where you came from. People grow up after saying they never would. People change when they said they’d stay the same. But I’m still figuring out this life I see before me. Failing, falling, sinning, and watching everything that’s familiar change before me. We’re all in a changing game and memories are all that’s left of this nostalgic ship that’s sinking. But I can’t change when I am not ready too. I can’t change when I need something to hold on too.

Watching seasons change in my hometown, the colors turn from gold to brown. I could always come home. Come home to the people that grow up from their juvenile tendencies. Watch familiar faces start families and mold their kids to make up their past mistakes. We’re afraid of our pasts, so we grow up in our present. Breaking hearts in ourselves that don’t dent the armor in our future. Don’t be like me, don’t be like you, change everything you once were into something you could never be. We all need a clean slate to change into who we want to be. Leaving hometowns and starting some place better than this.

I could go from here to there and everywhere, but coming home always breaks my heart. Faces are changing faster than seasons do. People are leaving before they get driven out, because everything that was once familiar is dead and gone. There’s nothing for me now. There’s nothing in this town but coming home means starting over and changing everything now. Home is where the heart is, but I don’t know where home is now.

Where do I belong.

3/13/2009

You might think I’m bulletproof but I’m not.

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It takes a day where the weather changes and freezes your insides. A day like this that has you remember the past. One small change of the weather and your soul is exposed for the world to see. At any moment any word can cause an effect of water works. Larger than any ocean. One huge tidal wave of emotions that no matter how much you hold out your hands, everything comes crashing through.

Its okay to reflect. It’s okay to remember. Remembering that at one point in your life you loved so deeply, it hurt every muscle in your body. It doesn’t matter how often you go through changes like a chameleon, changing stripes to spots. It doesn’t take away the feeling of emptiness. This vacant haunting feeling that no matter what you do, you can’t escape from. Memories come back to haunt you while you sleep, no matter how much you suppress them in your waking life. You loved and you lost, is what you tell yourself. Just one big armor you wear to keep from falling apart. Keep from getting hurt. You watch the water rise and wash against you, still you stand very still. Being still is better than falling apart.

You could write a book on how to ruin someone’s perfect day

The countless times you’ve been knocked down, pushed around, and you walk away with every tear that continues to shed. Its the salt water that comforts but never heals. Every time you walk away, it’s a song, a saying, a sentence, or even tiny change in the weather, that stops you in your tracks and you can’t help but remember. It hits you to straight to your core, worse than any words could. You loved, you lost and you couldn’t help yourself but to move on. Because loving someone this much should never hurt as much as it does. Loving someone to the point of breaking doesn’t make us bulletproof from ourselves.

Why, do you have to make me feel small
So you can feel whole inside
Why, do you have to put down my dreams
So you’re the only thing on my mind

I walk around with this armor around my heart, unable to feel the cold in my bones. This armor that hides my emotions from the next person. I am bulletproof. Everything you shot at me bounces off back to you. But on the days where the weather changes the leaves from green to yellow to brown, its when I can’t fight back. Its when a little bit of the cold, hits at my insides and I am exposed to the world. Live and learn, love and loss. Eventually the weather changes and I go on my way. Every once in a while, I slip. I hear a song, a melody, words, and I am right back where I started from. Think what you will about me but sometimes being strong doesn’t give me strength.

You might think I’m bulletproof, but I’m not.

11/23/2008

Trying my Best to Love You.

Two weeks.

Enough is enough, is what I said to myself with my arms outstretched to the sky. Its moments like this that I wonder if I wanted it to end before anything even started. Wanting the pain before it even hit me. I reached out for the pain and found it aching in my bones.  I never knew in love that you could reach a breaking point. Because in every love song, there’s a happy ending. In every love story there’s still love that can be obtained. I waited for your return like every maiden in distress does, waiting for their knight to save them from themselves. It’s been two weeks and still I hear only the silence that separates us.

I was wrong for a lot of reasons and things. Wrong for the ways I knew I could have been better for you. Thats what this all was, just ways I could be better for you. Its been two weeks and I can’t wrap my head around much of anything lately. I am the one that’s suppose to make this better. I am the one that should be changing.  But I am the one thats sitting in my own melancholy glory. Sitting with my thoughts rambling together and causing chaos in my mind. We weren’t perfect but you thought otherwise. In your quest for perfection you lost everything and gained only what you wanted back. I can’t say everything that I want for fear of losing. Because losing you would be my greatest unhappiness and thats just what I did. I lost you and it’s been two weeks and I can’t help myself.

For a person who knew me better than I knew myself, you hardly knew me at all. When I pushed, I wanted you to pull back. I wanted you to see through the armor and tell me that everything was going to be okay. I was wrong to want you for all the things that made us break. I was wrong to be selfish in my own loneliness and expect someone to save me before I could even save myself. I never lied about who I was and you know exactly who I was when you met me. I was a vulnerable mess and broken to the touch. You knew that, all of that and still I couldn’t make you stay. It’s been two weeks and I can’t even begin to think what a lifetime could be without you.

Kissing a hundred boys won’t bring you back. No amount of drinks could ever drink you goodbye. Because saying goodbye would only mean I would lose you forever. I am not sure I am ready to take that risk. I am trying my best to love you, even if you don’t love me back. It’s been two weeks and I’m not sure I can’t last another lonely week.

I want you back my baby
I want you back in my arms
I want you back right now

5/16/2008

 

 

Stay with me.

stay with me

 

There was this desperation to have you. Even if it meant risking everything. If it meant lying to everyone, including myself, I just wanted you. I stopped loving you a long time ago, but I hate to lose. And I was always losing. You see it was always a game. This game between us to see who could put up with the most. I didn’t give two fucks about you, but I wanted you. I didn’t need you, I wanted you.

No it’s not a good look
Gain some self control

It’s was a push and pull and at times it didn’t feel like a game. Most times it felt like we were worlds apart. I wanted different things but you are always what I was certain of.  I look back now and realized it was all a game. Just a stupid fucking game, and I hated to lose.  We were comfortable leaving, when all I really wanted was an excuse to stay. I ran out of excuses and the desperation weighed in. I could have lied until I was blue in my face to make you stay. To make your decisions change, all to prove this point that I was right and you were always wrong.

And deep down I know this never works, but you can lay with me so it doesn’t hurt

I couldn’t have been more wrong. My heart couldn’t pretend any longer. The more I pushed the more I begged for you to pull me back. To you this was all just one silly game and I was on the outside begging to play. It was easy for you to leave and all I wanted was for you to stay. This desperation, this need to have you, was just to hide my loneliness from the masses. Maybe it wasn’t love. Maybe it wasn’t what I deserved but still I wanted everything you threw at me. It’s amazing the things we put our heart through in this desperation to be loved and desired. Thats all I could have ever wanted. This feeling of being wanted and loved. This feeling of curing my loneliness and fighting back the tears of being alone.

I don’t want you to leave
Will you hold my hand

Even if this hurts. Even if it makes us miserable. Even if this never works out. Stay. Stay with me, until the feeling comes back. Stay with me, until I find someone new. Give me a reason to believe this game was worth it. A reason to believe that all this push and pull was worth it. Stay. Stay with me until the loneliness disappears. If only for a moment. If only until my heart puts itself back together. Stay.

Won’t you, stay with me.

Please.

7/2/2009 1400101510972c8-original-1

 

 

 

 

And I’m still hurting.

Heartbreak has a way of changing a person. It breaks down every vulnerability and locks it away under a dark heart of emotion. Lessons learned and the reality of letting go. You begin to build up these walls with the bricks that have been thrown at you. It was always your fault. Your fault in believing in the wrong people. Your fault in choosing the wrong person. Your fault in every argument, in every tear drop, in every vulnerability you’ve ever felt.

Always your fault.

Covered with scars I did nothing to earn.

After a year it’s suppose to be different. You’re suppose to feel better. It’s so easy for others to move on to bigger, better, brighter, and beautiful things. Still you sit with your sadness and bitterness. I always envied the people who can jump from people to people. All to mask their sadness of being alone. Meanwhile, I wallowed in my darkness and sadness. I allowed these feelings to consume me as my own coat of bad failures. Allowing the bitterness to eat away at the layers of goodness I had left. I hate when people expect you to wake up one day and stop loving someone. That falling out of love is just as easy as falling in love, it’s not. It breaks even more then putting your heart into someone else’s hands. Because everyone else is so good with forgetting and moving on. Placing someone else’s face in the frame to make up for their losses. But it hurts even more than before.

A year goes by and you still live with the bitterness and sadness. A year goes by and you find yourself still hurting worse than before. Because everything was always your fault. No matter how many people you kiss, how many people you say goodnight to, they never replace what broke you. Broken is what you feel through the night, until the sun comes up. Its through the day that you can suppress the hurt, but its at night when you’re alone with your thoughts that it all comes back. You pretend to move on and go through the motions. You pretend just as well as the others. Everyone else is just fine and still you sit with your words and broken promises. Promises of a better life and new beginnings. Promises that at the end of the day, everything will be better for you.

What about lies?
What about things that you swore to be true?

It’s days like these that I can’t help but wish you would feel an ounce of what I felt. That your heart would rot and break into a thousand miserable pieces. That someone would come along and blame you for everything that is wrong. The 1 finger that you graciously pointed at me, you’d find 3 more pointed directly at you. In so many ways, I just wished that you would feel every single human emotion that I felt. If there was anything that I wanted from you, I just wished to have my heart back. But getting my heart back wouldn’t change anything. It would only continue to hurt.

Eventually everything will change. One day, I’ll fall in love again and this will start all over. Being broken doesn’t last forever, maybe someday this will all be just a distant memory. At this current time, and at this current state, it still hurts. No matter what I say, I am still hurting.

and I’m still hurting.

11/15/2011

 

 

 

 

What kind of man.

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You held on for as long as you needed to. Leaving all the broken pieces shattered around you. This was how you loved, this was how you expressed yourself. Breaking everything in your path that didn’t need to be broken. You were far to broken to concern yourself with decaying corpses. Still you sucked the life out of every living breathing thing, consuming yourself with the living instead of fixing up your own broken path. These were your paths and your stories. Your lives with the lies that you told to make everything whole again.

You do such damage, how do you manage?
Tryna crawl in back for more

You loved too many and you loved too much. All your mistakes transferred to every single one of those broken pieces you left scattered behind. Who was to blame for your mass destruction and chaos that lay beneath you feet. Who was to blame when you loved too much and left the lifeless to fend for themselves. The glass hearts of everyone that stood in your way, shattered and scattered once you let go. You were good with letting go just when you needed too. Just enough time to live, love, and forget everything. This was how you lived and how you loved. How you broke apart every living vessel and left the corpses of broken people behind. This was how you said you loved everything until you took everything you wanted. If this is how you love, just take it back. Take everything you said back because no man could ever hurt to the point of breaking someone.

What kind of man loves like this

I was left to fend for myself and pick up all the pieces you left behind. Because it was you that said you loved but held on just when you needed to. Letting go and watching my lifeless corpse cross the channels to find you again. Swimming through the broken shattered pieces and cutting myself deep just to reach you. I bled, I fought and I cried every fucking time because this was how you loved. My own foolish broken heart didn’t know any better but to pick up the pieces and reach you again. There you dangled my lifeless corpse and started this mess all over again. I am lifeless, I am hurt, and more than anything I am scatterbrained and broken to the touch. I watched you with a noble heart, hoping that you’d come back to find me. I sat broken in disbelief and wished that you’d see through to my broken soul.

Storms pass then you see a clearing. Somewhere along the way we watch a part of ourselves reconstruct and rebuild ourselves. Stronger, better than before. You may have broke me but you never will again. You may have loved me but you never will again. No man should every hurt the ones they love. No man should ever break the paths of broken people. What kind of man loves like this, is the kind of man that will always be broken.

You will not break me again.

9/15/2012

 

Talking sh*t about a pretty sunset.

I am a sucker for sunsets. Where the colors of the sky blend chaotically into the atmosphere. Where the fades of sky blues tarnish into the clouds to form bright pinks to luscious violets and transition with their oranges into the dark skies we see at night. Maybe I am the only one that sees it that way. Watching this transformation of color just happen before my eyes.  The more I try and explain myself, the more people point out the flaws and dismantle the sunset that I love. Colors of sunsets are a lot like dreams, everyone has their own perception of them. No matter how many times a person puts their two cents in about color, I can’t help but feel they have it all wrong. Everyone wants this picturesque sunset to photograph and show the world. To mark it up to their own perspection of beauty and edit out all the flaws. The more they capture the more they turn it around and change it. Editing reality you take away the beauty of it all. Flaws and all.

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Maybe we are going about it all wrong. Taking pictures of the sky doesn’t give the sky it’s beautiful justice. The colors that are sketched into my mind never show up as beautiful as I photograph them. Wouldn’t it be amazing if we could photograph the sky without the need of digital devices? No sunset looks as beautiful as it exist in my memory. No sunset can be photographed to its picturesque perfection. Why do I bother explaining the things I love, when someone is going to come around and change everything? You can’t put a filter on my sunsets and tell me that this is what you see. You can’t tell me that life as you photograph it is what I am suppose to see. I find myself allowing others fears and perception of beauty filter into my own ideas. I find myself wanting to change the things I once loved all for the sake of finding something beautiful. I can drive myself crazy trying to change every single one of the flaws but in the end its the imperfections that make everything so damn beautiful.

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Nostalgia always has a way of letting us down. Every once in a while people will find a way to let you down and break you heart. Sunsets will come and go and all you’re left with are all the colors they leave behind in your memory. Sometimes staring up at the sky is better than staying asleep and dreaming. Dreams are only real in your memory but sunsets are fucking there for the taking. Don’t allow anyone else’s perceptions of your reality change what you see. Then again what do I know, sunsets are just sunsets. Colors are just as over exaggerated as our dreams. Sometimes people are right, maybe the sunset that I see is in the wrong placement of everything I want. Maybe the colors that I see aren’t as important as what anyone else sees. Who knows. All I care about is feeling something other than nothing. Seeing the colors for everything they are worth, there for my amusement. I’ll never find the perfect sunset everyone claims exists. Maybe I am wrong for loving all the things that I do but for what it’s worth, I still fall in love every time I look up at the sky as the sun sets. That’s all I could ever ask for, falling in love with colors before the darkness hits. It’s through color that we truly believe in ourselves, it’s before the dark that we reach for the light again.  That’s all I could ever want.

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Talking shit about a pretty sunset
Blanketing opinions that I’ll probably regret soon
I’ve changed my mind so much I cant even trust it
My mind changed me so much I cant even trust myself

Skin and bones.

If I was who you wanted me to be, would you still love me?
If I had been exactly who you wanted me to be, would you still want me?
If I had listened to every word you said, would you still hear me?

I wonder about the silliest of things. Like how a person could disappear and leave their ghost behind. Still haunting when their corpse has long been buried. I am suppose to move on and forget, but I can’t help but reflect and remember. If I had been a fraction of those expectations, would you still give me a chance?

I changed my ways to accommodate your wishes. I changed every aspect of myself to make yourself better and still you wanted more. I wasn’t the change you expected. I wasn’t who you expected me to be. Yet, I can’t help but wonder if I had been exactly what you wanted me to be, would you still want me. I would have bled myself dry, if it meant that this would work. I would have stopped the madness hurting inside, if it meant you would stay just one more day.

How you flocked to the girls with their skin stretched over their bones. How you loved the illusion of this skeleton of a body and fixated on the ideas of that perfection. The countless nights, I counted meals and accounted for every last calorie. Would that be enough? How the extra calories could be slept away or purged until the obsession starts all over again. The illusion of being perfect and the risk of losing it all. I couldn’t control the monster of madness inside. I couldn’t control the obsession of hurting, all for being exactly what you wanted me to be. I begged, I pleaded, I cried, and still you stood so tall. Ordering your demands and I couldn’t help but want to do everything, just to make you stay. It was never enough. Your words flew out like venomous rage, still here to haunt me. I was never your perception of perfection. No matter what I did, I was never enough. You liked me, but you loved her. You cut me down but raved about everyone else’s perfections. I purged every last bit of my insides and you stood tall counting on my imperfections. It wasn’t enough that scratching the surface never deepen the cut. How foolish to believe that if I had been every word of what you wanted, I would have you.

Skin heals, cuts fade and eventually all the bricks you threw at me, will rebuild the little foundation of life I see. You disappeared and buried every last bit of who we used to be. You didn’t count on your ghost being left behind to haunt the remains of a memory. I loved you and all you ever did was bring me down. Took my sadness and devoured it into madness. Maybe we are all just a little mad, but some worse off than others.

You liked me but you loved her. How I always thought otherwise. If I were skin and bones would you love me in the end? If I purged ever last bit of you out of me, would I finally let go of you? If you hadn’t met her, would you still want the same from me?

Would you?

7/12/2007