Tag Archives: loss

hello goodbye

Sometimes there’s nothing to say.

When words become repetitive, and emotion disregarded…

All bets are off.

But I knew this already. What exactly did I expect to be different this time around? Minus titles, minus commitment…how could I have ever expected there to be any more…care…than when those elements existed?

Sometimes there’s nothing to do.

When actions are repeated and feelings hollow hearted…

I’m tired of the game.

I’m tired of trying to be the bigger person only to have the effort thrown back in my face.

I remember…

Laughter, talking, smiles, support.

I remember…

Wanting, aching, comfort, passion.

She remembers…

Sadness, hurt, pain, and remorse.

If only we remembered the same things…

About our yesterday.

But today…

Today I will not be an emotional punching bag…for that which can’t be forgotten. I will not be a filler for the days in-between. I will not paint her reflection gold while mine is banished in black…

Pushed farther and farther back.

I am bright and I am new.

I am worth worlds more than a few empty “How are yous.”

I am retiring this imaginary state of bliss. Ridding myself of the misery that might or might not be our very last kiss…

I will fight, I will vehemently push through..

Walking forward with only the memory of what I once knew.

let down

Some love pulls you up
Some love drags you down
Some love leaves you wondering…

If this….
Then why ever…
Was the experience enough to displace the emotional debris
Left over from the crash?

when you’re not strong

In life there are people that hold you up…and people that will pull you down. Sometimes there are those that pretend they can…and will hold you up but selfishly only stand still expecting you to pick up the pieces they left strewn about.

Anyhow…I am not inspired to write. But I loved this version of one of my favorite songs of all time.

Considering my current mood, it’s fitting.

in the wind

I can hear the air around us…

I’m searching for answers.

You’re searching for answers…

When the answer has been here all along.

Where there is an I, there is no you.

There has never been an us…except in our imagination.

For in our imagination nothing can touch us.

But it did…

And us disintegrated

into a thousand little pieces…

that are currently in the wind.

I can hear it.

It can hear me…listening.

But the wind never speaks back.

Like us…

It will remain forever and ever tangled in the complexity of

what ifs…

What if,

…we ached for it

…we cried out for it

…we stood up for it

What if,

…we fought for it

But instead we buried it.

And never looked back.

Funny thing about looking back…

Moving forward hurts just as much.


when you can hear the tears in the wind.

room with a view

There were words…

In my head.

Just minutes ago at least a paragraph had transpired in the abyss of my brain.



Just remnants…

And emotion.

So much emotion.

I don’t know where to put it.

Sometimes it finds refuge in new places…

Finds comfort in new spaces.

But only temporarily…

Till it’s reminded…

Of home.


Currently has no vacancy.

…at least for me it seems.

it’s christmas eve…

I’m sitting here in the most mellow….odd…offbeat mood. I don’t know what to do with myself. I think I’m in one of those places where I don’t want to acknowledge the existence of the holiday that is upon me…or that is here.

I realized this morning the reason why…

My mother.

Or lack there of I should say.


Christmas just isn’t what it should be without her. And Christmas eve…we’d always force each other to open one gift from the bazzilion of gifts under our “faux” tree. God forbid we cut down something living in the name of commercialism. Not in our house, no way!

So many years we shared just the two of us. I miss those days. I miss my mom. I wish I could lay in her lap and tell her all the drama that’s been on my mind. She’d rub my head, and say, “Baby, you’re just like me.” I’d tell her no way, and we’d laugh about it.

But it’s true. I am.

Just like her.

I’m sitting here, thinking about my mom…and other things…trying to forget it’s Christmas eve.

It’s really ironic my Cali/NY peeps are in Cali right now. My roommate just left to catch her flight to London. And I’m here…alone. Thank god my friend gets here tomorrow. I’d probably eat myself alive or something extreme if I had to deal with myself longer than 24hrs alone. It will be the second year in a row my friend and I are having our “anti-Christmas”. She arrives in NY early afternoon and I’m ecstatic. So I just have between now and then to sit here…like a sack potato and dwell in my own ReRe-ness.

I could edit more….but my eyes need a break. The TV is on. But staring at the wall seems more amusing. Why does it seem like I’ve seen everything on Netflix?

I just watched that movie, “houndog” with Dakota Fanning.


I need to put something on and get out of my head….this…attempt at writing isn’t even helping.


No…not in the mood.


Bite me.



TV fucking off.

I don’t care if my eyes hurt….Editing it is.

soap and water won’t do

Once upon a time I was in love with a sociopath.


And despite all the fucked up parts of her…I think it was the most exciting time of my life.

Wtf does that say about me?

That sounds…”off” and not psychologically sound. I will never know if her love was passionate intensity…as I like to remember it…or twisted premature need…as a friend often called it. Considering the age gap I get the relevance.

Whatever it was it rocked me. And solid. It was followed by the safest, most pure kind of love one can manifest. And that touched me just the same. But the rest…the lukewarm relationships that I now look at as part of my growth….

They’re a text book blur. Necessary but not page turners.

Idk. I’m getting worried about my outlook on things. Like a mortician who’s become immune to dead bodies.

Love feels like a lie.

It feels dead. And idk that I want to ever worry about reviving it.

For the first time in my life I’m beginning to think it’s done more harm than good.

Am I finally…after 3 decades of starry eyed wonder…seeing what the rest of the world sees?

Have I become jaded?


Love. An occupational hazard.

I just don’t get it anymore. The point. I get the feeling, the chemical imbalance. That knot in the pit of your stomach that only goes away when they’re within inches, not miles.

I get all of it. But at the end of the day they’re going to leave…whether on foot or in a body bag. So what is the point of falling in the first place?

I know, not my usual M.O. but I’ve had a lot of time to think lately. All my friends are so….we’re all so different then the kids we used to be. Funny, I feel 16 somedays…lately…emotionally. But I’m nothing like that girl. She was so tough, and strong…and yet…somehow still pure at heart.

Is this what comes with age?


I guess.

Apparently I’ve got this wall around me…a girl…ok, actually a few girls have told me recently. And I’ve said that to someone myself not too long ago. But it feels funny hearing it…rather then saying it.

It’s not intentional.

The wall.

Natural defense.

I’ve got trust issues.

Not to mention, the shit that goes down once you let them in. Once inside they can creep up all over you. Get into little nooks and crannies you forgot even existed.

And the other thing about letting people in…at some point they might want out.

This is my logical attempt at shutting the door on that part of myself.

Besides, I belong in a mental institution, not a relationship. I self medicate with Women.

My heart feels like the crime scene of a copycat killer. When I close my eyes I imagine being on my hands and knees…scrubbing with bleach…to rid myself of the bloodshed. But even worse, the culprit must be dealt with.

That is when I end up back at point A. Is “it” the enemy? Or I? A combination of the two? If I eliminate a huge part of what has made me who I am…will I survive?

Can I?

Must I deadbolt the doors to my walls again?

I’ve gotten this far before a hiccup.

Now, I wonder…how many bottles of bleach will it take?