Archive for October, 2012


When I was a kid, I used to daydream about being the age I am now and think about how awesome things would be. I thought I’d have a cool office job that I hated but secretly kind of loved and lots of friends that would go on wine tastings with me, and I’d have so many invitations on Friday night that I’d actually have to say “no” to people. I thought I’d have my shit together. Instead, I work my ass off at an overpriced coffee house, I spent my Friday night eating pizza and watching Ghost Adventures (which has become a ritual), and all of my friends live on the other side of the country.

When I was a kid, I was an idiot.

Sometimes it feels like someone else is living my life for me. Someone else is making all of these decisions and I’m just kind of passively tuning in every now and then just to make sure things haven’t gotten too fucked up. It’s so easy to tell yourself, “This is my life. I make my own decisions and I choose where I go and what I do and I control my future,” and like, that’s such bullshit. There are so many things trying to snatch the reigns from my hands at any given moment that it becomes a battle just to hold on, and when I finally regain control, I’m so exhausted that all I want to do is sleep. And I’ll be damned if there isn’t a new something waiting in the wings to take a swipe at the reigns as soon as I wake up. I just don’t see the point, sometimes.

Wendy had it all wrong, she should have stayed in Neverland. Peter isn’t missing much.



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Dirty ashtray. Empty glass. 
You were on a roll last night.

It’s been less than two weeks since my last entry and it feels like my entire world has been flipped around. I’m inside out. Everything you’ve ever wanted to know is right here, finally out in the open. Please take it. It’s all yours, anyway.

If I’ve learned anything, it’s that things aren’t always what they seem… but sometimes they are. Kind of. Nothing is ever black and white. You can’t jump to conclusions about things and get yourself worked up over what you’ve convinced yourself to be true when the truth is often a complicated mess. Your opinions are always a mix of equal parts right and wrong, as are your dreams and your desires. For all the reasons you have to pursue something, there are always just as many reasons not to. Sometimes you just have to throw it all into the air and see what happens.

My life is nothing more than waiting rooms and crossed fingers.


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I’ll trade you two truths for one lie. Just tell me something that’ll help me sleep, tonight. If you close one eye and spin around seven times while hopping on one foot and saying the alphabet backwards you might understand where my head is at.

I’m just a ghost, now.

I’ve noticed that sometimes pieces of me go missing. Like, little quirks or interests or personality traits that used to define me just kind of go into hiding and when I rediscover them it’s like bumping into myself for the first time in years. “Oh, so this is what it feels like to be me. I almost forgot.” 

You may think that silence will get rid of me but you forget that I’ve gotten good at waiting. Pretty much my entire life has been one long stay in a waiting room. I’m about to get up and leave, though.

I never wanted it to end like this.
I never wanted it to end like this.
I never wanted it to end like this.
I never wanted it to end.

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And just like that, uncertainty reclaims it’s rightful hold on my heart. I love when the weather reflects what’s going on inside my head – cold and cloudy – like everything’s the way it’s supposed to be. Silly girl, you should have known. 

There’s a buzzing in my chest that I can’t still. I’m just pulsing and floating, on the edge of my seat, no hope for release, just the agony of maybe maybe maybe wrapped in a bow of doubt. What’s the point? What is the fucking point?

I’ve watched all of my friends fall in love. I’ve seen them ache in all the good ways, and then in all the bad. I’ve watched as they’ve loved and lost and loved again and it comes so easy for them. What am I doing wrong? What is it that makes me so easy to let go of? It’s the most helpless feeling, knowing you’re not needed. It’s even worse knowing you’re not wanted.

I want to know what it feels like to look into someone’s eyes and know that they will always be there. To know that no matter what, I will not be alone. To become electric at the brushing of hands and lightheaded at the sharing of breath and overwhelmed at the meeting of eyes. I want to know what it feels like to give everything to someone and  know that they want it all, every last bit.

I just want to be enough.
For once, I just want to be enough.


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The smoke hit me before I saw the wreckage – that’s when you know it’s a real disaster.

I had a fair enough warning of what was lying ahead, but I kept going, curiosity getting the best of me as it often does. I needed to know, needed to be sure, needed to see it with my own eyes and feel it with my own heart and not just push it all away and pretend it wasn’t real because it is and we are and I’ve lived long enough believing that I’m not – believing that I exist merely as a footnote, a frivolous extra in other people’s lives.

But I’m not expendable. I’m not someone that can just be used as a space filler when it’s convenient. I deserve to be cared for and adored and I deserve to be happy and feel wanted and I never truly believed that until recently. I’ve never thought of myself as capable of being loved, of having love and knowing love. It’s such a foreign thing to me. I give love all the time – I just dump it into buckets with holes in the bottom. But being on the receiving end is something that I’m not familiar with and I kind of just assumed I never would be, that I was to live my life alone and give love when it’s needed and just carry on. I didn’t know there was more to life than surviving. But there is. And I want it.

Maybe it was a mistake and maybe I overstepped my boundaries and maybe I’ll lose it all but the funny thing is that I don’t care, anymore. I’m through tiptoeing around other people’s lives and always taking the back seat. I’m through with only knowing happiness vicariously. It’s time to be present and to fight and chase and live because I deserve that, dammit.

You’d be lucky to love me.

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I can hear the clock tick-tock-ticking away, counting down down down to some inevitable end and it’s just blurry enough that I can’t make it out but I have my guesses, my inclinations, my “I’m pretty sure”s, and my “I wish”s.

This week on Doctor Who, they taught us that once we catch a glimpse of the future, it’s set in stone; there is no changing it. I don’t really see that as such a bad thing, because right now I don’t feel I have much of a future at all. I wish I had something to look forward to, good or bad. Just something.

It’s hard to find things to talk about when I spend all my time thinking of you. I can’t tell you how badly I want you, how badly I want to take care of you. I can’t express my need to be next to you, to feel you and hear you and laugh with you, to hold your hand and be young with you. I can’t let you know that I want to talk to you all the time, that I always want to know how you are. I can’t share with you the fact that I want to be the one you need, I want to be the one that makes you feel like you can’t breathe. I want more and I want to give you more, I want to give you everything, but I can never ever tell you that. Well, I could. But then what would torture me?

I don’t feel like myself without a secret.

You know how sometimes you have those moments, those moments where everything is perfectly aligned and you look around and you actually realize that you’re alive and you’re creating this amazing memory and you recognize that you are actually happy and that everything, for just an instant, is perfect? I haven’t had one of those moments in a long, long time.

On the bright side, it’s finally October.

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teenage dream.

I finally figured out how to get my MP3’s off my recorder.

Awesome sauce. Here’s a cover.

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