the couldesack.

control is an easy thing to assume you have, until what you thought you had control over is suddenly ripped away from you. what's worse is wanting something you could potentially have control over, but know you shoudn't.

self control is something i was not blessed with the ability to willfully practice. i am naturally a very laid back, go-with-the-flow type of person, who see something she likes and goes for it. another thing i have come to the conclusion i fail at constantly is filtering these things; what will be good for me and what won't. it might as well be the equivalent to a shiny knife with no handle, that taunts you with the full knowledge that if you pick it up, there will be consequences. but how can you say no? it's so pretty. demented analogy, i know. but it happens to be the story of my life.

more specifically, my shiny objects of desire only lead to the same cyclical road each time. i know that once i pick it up, i can take the initial cut by simply outweighing the pain with the pleasure that i have obtained what i wanted. i carry it around with me, holding it more tightly each time around, until i happen to notice it's so tainted that it's not even pretty anymore. frustration sets in that it's not the object that i know is so pretty; i mean, i've seen it. i know for a fact that i have every reason to keep holding onto it because i know it's something i want. finally, after much convincing i set it down and convince myself it's not worth it; the pain now outweighs the desire. for now.

if only the cycle ended. without another shiny item to focus on, every time i come around and pass it, i see it and remember that at one time, it was mine. even if it wasn't, i got to hold it. it's like an addiction. and the knife, it's just sitting there, doing it's thing. nothing's really changed except your perspective of it, right? why not pick it up again, just because it's been a while since i've gotten to hold it- since it's been mine for the moment. the blood lost goes unnoticed. i mean, i still have alot to invest in the next shiny thing.

like everything that i seem to invest in that goes unreciprocated, the satisfaction of simply holding it, begins to fade after losing that much blood and going around and around. pretty soon, i have nothing left to give. it will take ages to replenish what i've lost, and i will sit and wait until i have the strength to once again reach out and succomb to the taunting once again.

and so it begins.

a drop of cocaine.

it's a solemn hallway to walk down alone. the echo of each step i take reverberates back to me to break the silence. i begged you to stop before it was too late, but my words were the same as countless others before me, and they were all the same to you.

the sun glares off of the sleek, cemented floor through the dirty window at the end of the hallway. each metal door remains untouched, isolated from even light itself. i come to the last door and peer through the smeared box of glass toward the top, dreading what i know is on the other side. in a hospital gown the same color as the wadded sheets, i see you hold yourself with your head on your knees. tears stream down my face as i hold back everything inside of me from spilling out. if only i had known what to say that would have triggered something that nothing else seemed to reach. the pleas and threats of what you would become only provoked you more, and all of the i love you's were never heard. what could i have possibly said? i know all i can do is love you and hope you come out clean. the torture i see in your vacant stare each time your body trembles melts any bitterness that each echoed step had built up, and i want nothing more than to hold you and let you know you're not worthless. you'll know what you'll be when you grow up, soon. everything will soon be back as it was 8 years ago, sitting on the dock, fighting over who could push who in.

my body jerks into a sitting position, my breathing frantic. i'm alone in my room, still holding my phone open to your text saying, "i relapsed a couple times, but i'm be fine now."

i hope you are.

a single chord progression.

because a keyboard isn't enough, my fingers long for a piano to pound out the melody of the unrelenting thoughts racing through my mind. it's as if the same question breeds different answers, all of which my mind entertains as sufficient for the time being. how quickly it becomes unsatisfied.

d minor would be nice. it's a sophisticated, but sincere chord that resonates through any other, in my opinion. it's not that i'm questioning my happiness, it's more the source. so temporary, so terrifyingly bold that due to my nature i have no choice but to take it as factual. i am what i am, and have come to accept that i become a mirror to the face of both expectation and idealistics. my life should be played to a song in d minor with a bass heavy beat.

it's easy to go through the motions that were predestined for you; to either ride along the set list of accomplishments you were clearly meant to fulfill, or to weave in an out of it to keep things exciting. that's what i've concluded. it's like the movie talledega nights, where the father can't help but ruin something that's going well. people get too set on their expectations, growing pleased with themselves that they have bred a winner. perhaps i'm just a spiteful person who just says 'well watch this', and completely overturns the situation, or maybe i always intended on taking that path. both can be questioned with good reason.

it's not that i don't know myself. i just don't have myself as 'down pat' as i did 2 years ago. i could tell you what exactly i was feeling and why, claiming adamently that the statement, 'i don't know' as complete bullshit. now, i find myself too far beyond knowing that i clammer to reach 'i don't know'. there are too many possibilities when you feel. is it healthier to feel? i'm not sure, but it's more painful, definitely. when i'm not really sure what i feel, beyond the fact that i'm feeling in general? pure agony.

i'll eventually have the whole song. right now all i can do is perfect this scale, to make it harmonious to the rhythm to which i walk, fall, and run. til i've run out of distractions, d minor will eminate from within.

empty streets.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the sunrise. Since May, actually. Now I sit on my porch, writing. I haven’t fallen asleep, although I’ve been trying since 3:00am. Cars on their way to work speed loudly on the main street in front of me, and I have lost myself once again. I don’t really know what to think about anymore, so I automatically resort to this- my outlet. It’s the only way I can get out exactly how I am feeling. I’m confused, broke, numb and utterly alone.

So much has happened in the last couple of weeks and I don’t know how to react to them. I moved into a place that doesn’t feel like home yet; and the support I once felt was so strong has dwindled into nothing. I don’t pity myself, not at all. I know I’ve gotten myself into everything that has happened and was fully aware going into it that the outcome wouldn’t be without consequence, but I definitely underestimated them.

I miss how things used to be, so smooth and fluid. I had a routine, a groove that I had down to a science. Wake up early, go through the motions of the day unaffected, then come home to friends and forget about it all over a cigarette and too many laughs to account for. Thinking about how different things could be after this, I am nothing short of terrified. I’ve slid by too many times it seems for yet another break, and yet I didn’t learn from them. I can be too stubborn for my own good, not just sometimes, but most of the time. I’ve lost track of the things I once put at the top of my priority list. I know this is too reminiscent of my last blog, but I guess this is just its sequel.

I wish I had a piano, it just seems appropriate for the slow, rhythmic movement my thoughts have chosen to travel in. I feel like it should be in a movie, playing the background as I walk aimlessly down a dimly lit street just as the sun rises. There is no sound, just the piano and camera panning across the different angles of my path. I feel like running on and on, maybe it’s away from everything, although you can’t run away from something that’s inside you. Trying to come up with things to distract me has usually worked in the past, it’s provided some sort of direction that I know to follow- a schedule. I wish I automatically knew what to do, how to respond to the fury of the countless unresolved situations I simply don’t know how to resolve. Things will work out; they always do, even if it’s not how I had wanted. But like I said before, I will have a path no matter what. It’s almost 6:00am now, and I’m too numb to be tired.

I wish I didn’t have to rely on other people to help pull me out of this, but I will come out alive because of it. I’ve already accepted every possible outcome for my circumstances- needing to go back and live at home until I get back on my feet, re-planning out my entire future around convenience only, or simply going on as if nothing happened. That’s when I wonder, if this time I’ve learned, if yet another break has blessed me or cursed me with either arrogance or utter gratefulness that I am still here. I refuse to shy away from living in a way where I feel sorry for myself that I am where I am, but rather embrace it with every intention of making the best of whatever happens, and dealing with the consequences accordingly. Sure, they will be different, but some things have to end to begin. I will welcome every opportunity still granted to me despite what happens, and cling for dear life what I still have through it all. I don’t want now should I need to be numbed to anything, I’ve done that for too long- sitting back prettily at the third person’s coveted position rather than take on the rightful first person’s spot front and center of it all.

So here I am.

detour.

all it takes is once.

i've gotten used to catching breaks ever since i was in high school; getting away with more than i should have, in turn never really learning. i was exempt from the consequences and therefore never faced with a real problem i couldn't get myself out of or shrug off as not a big deal. sure, i've had regrets- you're full of shit if you say you don't. yea, you might not be dwelling on them but that doesn't mean they don't or can't exist.

it's been awhile since i've had an experience where i've had to completely reevaluate my future and how my decisions determine the direction it goes. it's always been "wait it out, it'll pass", or i had an innate response that seemed to work, even if i was only dealing with it temporarily. but as i grow older, my choices carry more weight, the consequences either more harsh or rewarding, and less cushion to support the fall. it's not that i havent taken responsibility for my own actions before, my parents made sure that was instilled in my at a young age. but over the years i became a master of avoiding consequences- the wrap, i guess you could say, for the stupid shit. put enough guards up, you won't even feel it even if they do come. either or, experiencing the outcome hasn't been a priority.

it's funny, people who think of themselves as strong and completely put together, emotionally mature, nice and safely removed from situations that everyone around them seem to go through, how fast that fades when you get caught up in the act of feeling. sometimes being involved isn't a choice, it seems. either that or you don't see it going in that direction, and before you know it you're one of them. strength is easy when life's great. it's when you have no choice but to accept the fact that you fucked up and now need to step up and deal with it that you find yourself wondering how you got here.

relationships are funny things, you know? it's really intriguing to me how emotionally detached you can convince yourself you are, but find yourself subconsciously building expectations for the other person, only giving yourself reasons to get frustrated with them for not treating you right or meeting up to them. when things are good, they're great. then all of a sudden you realize that the scale's tilting more and more in their favor and your needs are all but satisfied.

some might understand the feeling, some won't. usually this happens when the relationship is undefined or communication just sucks. but usually, there's more expectations on one end than the other. it's not even that you necessarily want a relationship, it's the fact that they don't. i mean, why wouldn't they? you're a catch, a steal, the all around package, right? of course you are. it's worse if they know that and still stick around for the good times, getting away scot-free with every expectation fulfilled because you're trying to prove to them that you're worth the time- even if you don't know it. why not ditch them? well, that would mean they get away without giving you an explanation as to why the fact that you were available everytime they wanted to hang out, always answered the phone and texted back within 30 seconds. plus you actually like spending time with them- when it happens.

i'm the kind of girl who doesn't like to be pushy, not force my company on anyone or demand explanations as to why someone feels the way they do- especially if nothing's official. who wants to be the needy girl, or wants a needy girl? i always wanted to be one of the guys, really chill, laid back and low-maintenance. but i'm a quality time person. i like affirmation, knowing what the other person's thinking. cutting things off without getting closure is something i've never found easy. what's worse, feeling like if you cut things off, the other person's routine really isn't affected. they're not left just having to think about you, because who knows if they did before, and they can go about life as usual. when you slip in too deep is when saying no gets harder.

that's when exemption flies out the window. you find yourself sliding farther away from your plan- the path you always envisioned taking once you accomplished your goals. it's the little things that you once got away with that now prohibit you from moving forward, whether literally or emotionally. you've reached a fork where one road- your road- is now closed, and the other jets straight ahead, bypassing all of the things you intended to do before you went there. such is life, and now, you can no longer avoid the detours.

broken.

For the first time in months, my emotions broke past the barrier I had worked so religiously to orchestrate around the calluses from my past. You would never know, because I have been dead to you for about two years now. It’s been easy on you because you had people who you knew wouldn’t fail you or hurt you the way I did. I didn’t know every time you would see me that you were trying your hardest to fight the screams urging to pour out, questions I couldn’t answer and actions I still can’t justify. There’s a point where someone can truly lose every ounce of respect and tolerance for, and I’m not proud when I say I’ve conquered that quest already. Don’t worry, you’re not the only one I’ve hurt throughout all this, countless relationships are forever lost because of the stubbornness and selfishness of one person. I have failed so many people and failed as a sister, daughter, friend, that it shows in my reflection when I stare into the mirror. The very freedom I craved then I would trade for bondage if that meant forgiveness and a chance to mend those relationships. You will hate me for a while, perhaps forever. You will mask it and pretend things are simply fine while proceeding to slam the door behind you in rage, but still you will insist there’s nothing wrong and you’re over it.

I sat alone outside for hours and cried helplessly as hard as my body would let me, utterly and completely helpless. And who was the one who made things the way they were- still are? The same one who pleads “helpless”, when in reality I was in full control when I made the decisions that I did. Sorry, no excuses or assuming the self-pity outtake. And to think that I was someone who always wondered why she was abandoned in friendships, why every time I became close to someone they grew tired of me and so unbelievably hurt me in ways I couldn’t imagine putting someone I cared about through. It was fun convincing myself that was true while it lasted. But reality is here now and I can’t play that card anymore. One of my biggest fears became that reality- failure. I can’t even blame this one of Satan either, regardless of his obvious stronghold on my life at the moment, for I put myself, and for the most part intentionally, into these situations. I took pride in the stupidest things and turned them into my identity- my “strength”, which turned out to be oblivion, my “unconditional love” which turned out screwing me over in ways I can never be healed from, and my ability to “not let emotion overrule logic”, which proved to me that I have a really twisted sense of logic that I should really consider abandoning this split second.

I have hurt the people that I love most in this world in order to uphold these fine attributes, and it earned me a solid two years of my life of more pain than I would ever want anyone else to experience. Loneliness is hard, neglect and abandonment is even harder, I know that… but healing and forgiveness, now those are hardest of all because they are those abstract emotions and feelings that one must accept.

amidst the winter of friendship.

As I trudge up the hill, towards the place our paths would merge,
the frigid gusts of wind freeze my tears halfway down my face.
I bury it deep inside my scarf for want of escape, as
my eyes tightly shut, I continued to climb despite each opposing urge .

To my left is the lake, partly frozen over and glistening in the sun.
while I am unable to stop and breathe,
to take in the splendor of snow-covered tree skeletons which surround me,
each gaze tempting me to cease my trek, instead I run.

Silence is all I hear except for the leaves dead under my feet,
their crunching accentuated by their coat of frost.
The beauty surrounding me is tarnished with reluctance as
I hasten my pace even more, a feeble attempt to abandon ideas of retreat.

My fingers graze the photograph in my pocket, slowly curling to a close.
What I would give for things to be how they were,
back when there was meaning behind conversation,
instead of this vacancy I’ve grown to not oppose.

It’s only a memory now, nothing more than a dream, I doubt
seeing me now will cure the isolation she has accepted as normal,
our friendship arouses neither regret nor a longing for the past.
I was in no hurry to be reminded only her body would be waiting for me, her mind and spirit without.