Archive for December, 2011
Typetypetype. Writewritewrite. I never really know what to expect from my life. I woke up today feeling good, and then I crashed into near tears, and then I was fine. I’m excited to go dancing tonight.. But I don’t really want to go to momentum before that. I’ll probably feel differently later, though. And I have an interview! Soon. I had a phone interview this morning, but I have a real interview with someone different at three.. About an hour and a half. It will be an adventure I guess. I can’t wait to be doing something new, something important. I can’t wait to mean something. I hate being so useless. But I love writing..
It makes me feel so good. I can let everything out, just go and go and no one will interrupt me. Staples would call it vomiting. Just spewing. And that’s what it is. It feels cleansing. Like I’m getting rid of all the bad inside of me. That’s just what you need sometimes. It’s important to be filled with the good, and that’s kinda what this does for me. These awful, dark, disgusting pieces of text are my saving graces. They make room for the light that I try to cultivate inside of me. When I’ve gotten it out, written it, thrown it all up, I can forget about it. I can feel peace, for a time. I can pretend that everything is super okay, and that I’m right where I want to be- no matter how far from that spot I may really be. I think I could probably handle just about anything as long as I could write through it. Just blah blah blah and yap yap yap and suddenly I would be alright for a while.
I haven’t been eating a lot. I don’t think that’s good.. I should watch that more. It’s not intentional, I’m just not hungry I guess. Or I don’t think about it. Or I’m busy. Either way, it’s not healthy. And I’ve got to take care of myself. Don’t cry, and keep caring. I’m doing really good for the most part. Really, really good. I shower, do my laundry, brush my teeth, even clean my room now and then. And I write, so I clean my soul out, too. But I think in all that, I forget that my body needs sustenance, that it needs to be taken care of.
Mel just came over, and everything is better again. I also have some cream cheese pie. Yum.
Love without depending.
Everything will be okay.
I wash away the pain and lonely with classic rock and some creative thinking…
Or writing. I tell myself stories of grandeur, where everything is an adventure and I always come out on top. Whether I learn to fight and bust my way out of a kidnappers lair, or I pick up spanish to learn where I’ve got to go next, I overcome every obstacle. Nothing can stand in my way. I always know exactly what to say or do. I am smart, fast, beautiful, and strong. I kick butt. Serious butt, too. Not like a squirrel.. I’m not even sure I could win a fight against a squirrel right this second. I think it would win. But I mean like drug cartel- murderous thieves- kidnapping masterminds butt. I do it, every time. They’ve got nothing on me.. Because I’m everything I wish I was. And then, before you know it, the hurt is buried real deep, and I’m singing along to Ozzy and Pink Floyd and all those radio men who know just what I need to hear. And for that drive, I’m her. That girl I make up stories about. Confident, tough, sassy, clever. Everything I wish I could be. She’s perfect, and at least for this song, for this story, I can be perfect, too.
They always say not to go to bed angry, but I’ve never heard anything about going to bed with a broken heart.. Then again, I’m angry, too. I have no idea what’s going on, and I’m hurting, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. I’m broken and it hurts like hell and I can’t stop crying. I don’t know what I did wrong.. I mean, I get the big thing, but what did I do to deserve this particular torture? I try so hard, work so hard to be as close to perfect as I can get. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do. But still, I’m being treated like this. I feel worthless, and stupid, and used. I feel like worse than a stranger, less than the scum on the bottom of a shoe. I feel like I could disappear and it wouldn’t matter. Would it? Tell me if I matter. Because I need to know. I feel like garbage. My eyes are swollen, puffy, and red. My nose is stuffed. The skin on my face is raw and my nose is sensitive. I’ve been crying so much.. I broke down in the car. Just started sobbing, and crying, and I still am not done. It disgusts me. I just want to know where I went wrong, so I can fix it, so I can be better. I want to be better, want to be enough. I want to know what’s going on, and why suddenly I’m not worth shit. I used to feel so important, so loved, I used to feel like I meant something. What changed? Why did I turn into scum, garbage, nothing??? What did I do to earn this level of Hell?
Why do you build me up (Build me up)
Buttercup baby just to
let me down (Let me down)
And mess me around
And then worst of all (Worst of all)
You never call baby
When you say you will (Say you will)
But I love you still
I need you (I need you)
More than anyone darlin’
You know that I have from the start
So build me up (Build me up)
Don’t break my heart
– Build me up, Buttercup (The Foundations)
I’ll fix it. Because if I don’t, I’ll go crazy, and I’ll be miserable. I want my life to mean something again. I hate this!!!!! I just wanna scream , and throw and break things, and freak out, and swear like a sailor. I’m barely holding it all in, and it’s swelling up.. And probably turning to liquid and squeezing itself out my eyes.
Welcome to Hell week, ladies and gents. It’s gonna be a ride. I’m going to bed angry and broken and so, so hurt. We’ll see how I wake up tomorrow.
All this, and still, I love him more than anything. That’s what I need to focus on, I guess. I still love him. I still love him.
I still love him.
Tell me a story..
A story of love, of grandeur, of adventure.
A story where he loves her, and she loves him, and they know it. They face the world together, work hard to make each other happy. A story where life is one grand, beautiful thing. Every day is something new. They explore it together.
Tell me a story.
One that starts with once upon a time, and ends with happily ever after.
A story with a villain, a princess, a white knight.
Tell me a story.
I didn’t finish NaNoWriMo. But I really like the book I was working on anyway. Here’s a little treat. This is how my book started.
The building was huge and gray. It was very old, dusty and creaky, yet it didn’t seem to be falling apart at all. It was sturdy. The windows on most of the floors were boarded up, and the only place it seemed to let in any light was the top floor. There were no rats, no bugs, no living thing inside- the true definition of abandoned. But it was intriguing. There was an air of mystery about the place, the idea that it had a story to tell. It always seemed to be watching, waiting, almost sadly. There was no telling when someone had last opened the front door to freshen it up. It was even impossible to tell what the building had once been. It just stood there, a silent sentinel, on a hill away from the city.
She knew all of this about the building, but what she didn’t know is what she could find inside. She had grand ideas about treasure, money, and fame. She had been inside once before, when she found a small opening between the boards on a ground-floor window. They were chasing her, and she hid there, watching, until They were gone. The moment she couldn’t see or hear Them anymore, she had let out an explosive breath and turned to see where she was hiding. When she turned away from the window, however, she let out a small scream. She was certain she had gone blind. The blackness was so perfect, so inky and complete, that absolutely nothing of her saving grace could be seen. She slipped back out the window as easily as she had entered, and she ran.
Back in town, she had asked about the building. How long has it been there? Who built it? What was it for? No one had any answers for her. It had been there as long as they could remember, nobody had gone inside, it just was. Like the Ruler, or the Laws, or Them. It just was. Every word she heard drew her deeper and deeper into the mystery of it. She knew she had to go back in, had to see what was inside. There was no one to stop her. They might try, but she knew how to handle Them. She’d been avoiding Them her whole life, and she wasn’t worried about getting past Them now. She had everything she needed- except light.
There was no way to get light from the city- it was never dark, even indoors. Light came from the Laws, and They enforced the laws, so the city could not be dark. She was not part of the Laws, however, so she could not get the light. She had to borrow it. She had heard of a great, roaring, orange light before. There were some old ones in the city who claimed to remember such things. Such things as darkness, and pushing buttons or flipping switches to get light, even if you did not follow the Laws. It seemed preposterous to her, pushing a button to get light. But she knew that they were not senile, and they did not lie, because they still had light. She went to them, begging for the secret of light that she could carry in her pocket, light that was separate from the Laws, light that she could control. Many of them laughed, told her that it was impossible, pure light had died long ago. But one man, a very old, very wise man, simply looked at her thoughtfully.
“You can’t have the light, can you, girl?”
“No. I was not born in the Laws.”
“Yes, yes, I remember. You are alone. Why do you need light? The city has plenty. Surely you have never even seen darkness?” Here he looked at her, a knowing spark in his eyes, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
“You ask many questions, old man. I wonder if you even know about the light you claim to have seen.”
He laughed outright at this, and continued laughing until tears streamed down his face. After a time, his laughter slowed, and he looked thoughtfully at her again.
“You are a feisty girl. I like you. You want light for your exploring, don’t you? Your adventures took you somewhere our light did not reach. Those who have seen darkness always have a different look about them. You can tell.” Here he paused. She did not know what to say, so she said nothing. He studied her, and she him, and eventually he sighed. “I can give you this light. But you will have to be cautious. If They see it, or you tell another living soul, the pure light will be destroyed- along with both you and I. I have kept this light safe for many years, and it will not do to have a tough young creature send it to its ruination. Can you protect the light? Even with your own life?”
Delicious, or disgusting? Only time will tell. This book might be called something cheesy, like ‘Into the Darkness’ or ‘Out of the Light.’ It might also be called something deep and profound that I have yet to discover. Only time will tell.
I hope to continue working on this book. Of course, I’m not great at finishing projects, so we’ll see. But I dig it, anyway.
So there’s a few thoughts, what was running through my head. Bon appetit.
How I feel right now can only be accurately described as a sound and a face. The sound is a mix between a sigh, a grunt, and the “yuch” sound (formally known as ‘blech’). The face consists of tilting my head to the left, lifting my top lip up a bit on the left side, and sticking my tongue out- again, to the left. I don’t know why it’s all left, but I do know that it just doesn’t work to the right.
((This should have been posted last night, December 8th. I saved it as a draft to edit it, but never got back to it. I feel like it contains an accurate description of yesterday, and so it remains. (: ))
Last night I went to Mel’s house, cause we both needed a girls night. I’ve talked to Mel before, but never really deep. We’ve never really gotten to the heart of anything, and sometimes it felt kinda superficial. But we talked last night, a lot. It was awesome. We’re so much alike, and she’s so sweet. She knows what I’m going through, how I feel. It really made me think I’m not alone.
We watched the Phantom of the Opera- which, of course, puts me in the most romantic mood ever. It’s such a sweet, sad, bitter love story.. I didn’t cry, but it satisfied my craving to see real love- at least for a little while. But it makes me want to dance by candlelight, be held in my lovers arms, make sweet music together with the man of my dreams.
If only life was like a musical.
You’re in love, you kiss, you sing together, you get married. And that’s as bad as it gets. Nothing is complicated, no mistake can’t be fixed with a simple chat, everything turns out perfect. Pure poetry.
-sigh- What a hopeless romantic. (:
We talked a lot about my situation with Dave, and hers with Joey. I hadn’t realized they were so similar. But talking to her, I realized we really can help each other. She’s a girl I want to be around all the time, definitely. An angel, sent just when I needed one.
I hope Dave finds his angel, too.
When we were broken up last winter, he wouldn’t go hang out with his friends much- instead, he stayed home, watched a movie, and cried. I am SO terrified that he’s going to slip into that again, that he isn’t going to seek out help when he needs it. But then.. I guess I’m afraid of that for me, too. What a pair we are. Turning away from things that might help us the most. I don’t understand us sometimes. But I love us anyway. (:
Soooo so much. I love Dave with all my heart. I tell him all the time, because I just can’t help it. I guess every girl is afraid that the man she loves is suddenly going to forget her, that some pretty little blue eyed blonde is going to come steal him away with a beguiling smile and a toss of her hair.
Maybe that’s just what I’m afraid of.
It’s so odd, being here. I love him with all my heart, and I’m as close to certain as I can be that everything will work out just fine, but he doesn’t know that. I don’t know how to tell him, either. Cause everything will be fine, and we’ll be happy. We’re going to be so much stronger for what we’re going through right now. Our relationship is going to soar. I wish he could see that. I guess I’ll just have to wait.
I think I feel better about the seeming unfairness between our consequences, too. I feel like I can be satisfied with what I’m handed. Of course, that’s something I’ll have to work out with God. But I think I will be able to forgive my self, as long as Heavenly Father and Dave forgive me, too.
Everything is going to work out eventually. I know this.
But man, it hurts right now.. My current mantra is “Don’t cry, and keep caring.” It’s what I need to do. We have to be strong, but we can do it. Because we’re just that good.