It was picture perfect. Still images floating around in the ether waiting to be plucked by my consciousness one by one. Drawing on memory in an infinite search to find respite from what the days bring so often. It all became over exposed and under developed towards the end, and the last roll never made it out of the negatives. Some things you just have to write off as a lost cause and let go. But it would have been such a beautiful sight had it turned out alright.

You’re such a fucking cunt. And you’re even more of a cunt because act like you don’t care. And you’re even MORE of a cunt because you DO care and you completely lack the maturity, “balls”, or courage to act an adult and speak in person, or even direct without any sort of ambigious middle man. Cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt. You’ve hurt me and I’m rather furious, I’m rather angry, and I think your such shit for how you’ve been acting. Your lack of action. But empathy flows deep within these veins and apparently I’ll be damned to a life of compassion for your shortcomings and weaknesses before I’m able to cast you aside. And because of all that I, at least for now, consider you an absolute cunt. Yet I still snuggle with a stuffed panda. Cunt.

I’m terrified at the thought of doing nothing with my life, ergo I compensate in an attempt and irrational need to overachieve at everything I pursue.

In certain situations I seem to drive myself into the same head on collision that I just recovered from, avenging my own demise and resurrection with the vow that I’d never do it again… of course until the next time. And just when the dust begins to settle and the state of things returns to whatever I once considered “normal,” another gust of wind emerges from under the rug to serve as a reminder of what I’ve tried so hard to keep buried below and forget.

Nothing ever stays below the surface. Truth has the buoyancy of helium, akin to the innocence of a child’s birthday balloon. It often escapes the careless grasp and floats every so methodically to the surface. Up, up and away; out of reach, beyond control.

I curse myself for the blind eye I turned over and over in my head. One cheek upon the next; willing to revolve as if programmed to accept the abuse. It smarts. Tearing flesh and organ from wherein sentiments and a heart used to lie. Vacancy in the eyes and a hollow sounding tone resonate from within memory and I grasped into the darkness partially expecting nothing but so often attempting to find you in the void; shrouded in secrecy within the cruel game of hide and seek.

Searching for order within the chaos and method to the madness only to come to the conclusion that it was nothing more than a role play fantasy bred in the safety net of cyberspace where you can be anyway you chose and nothing really matters nor has repercussions. So much cooler on-line

It ain’t working

I don’t like July. It makes me think of the mid-Atlantic seafront. Salty air & sandy beaches. This cement pool from landscape does no justice.

Today, I miss you more than yesterday. Annoying.

One should not go through their sent email that dates back to the beginning of August 2009. It is full of memories and emptiness.

It’s not becoming of the ego to be reminded of how hard you tried when the end result is that it all felt apart in spite of earnest efforts and tenacity. Reading line by line over these extensions of self and emotion is like walking a calculated and deliberate line to where you’ll lay your head to rest upon the guillotine. Even though you now know how sharp the blade is and how deep it will cut, each step makes its way closer; back in time from the beginning until you reach yourself on the cusp of the present moment. And it’s a sickening addiction because it lingers in the air, stifling any respite that the vacancy would create. Your silence gains purchase on the cracks in my chest as it holds on for any light that might be left.

We will always & never have Bruges.

Is the worst time. Ever. It’s the cavernous line between far too late and way too early, and neither one is lesser evil. It brings with it the overwhelming sense of powerlessness that engulfs the body in the dark, wrapping the mind in a veil of anxiety that I can never seem to shake. The red glowing digits on the clock resemble demon eyes staring back at me as I watch another minute of my life creep by slowly, only to be extinguished by the next. Painfully slow. This is when the thoughts come in magnificent waves crashing against my conscious. Their presistence is only muffled by the sound of the sheets that I move over my head as if to fend off their attack. 3:30am is too late to finish anything that’s been started (not that I finish most things I start anyway), and too early to begin anything new. 3:30am is a stalemate of everything but the overworked psyche that never ceases.

Walking down the railroad ties, listening to the passing cars, looking for some signs of life between the tracks, but I don’t think she’s coming back.

Letting go is always harder than holding on.

A year ago today was the first time I touched your face, the first time I smelled your skin, and the first time I was wrapped up in your embrace. I am still able to draw upon these memories with vivacious fondness, as if it was reality only moments before. Stepping off the plane and walking down the gate, thats when it hit me. “This is real,” I thought to myself as I was overcome with an electric shock that resembled a strange juxtaposition of terror and joy. You were clad in a white shirt, white shoes, white cap and thin jeans. When I spotted you watching me, I walked up, bravely kissed you & sheepishly said “hello” all the while I could feel my skin flushing red.

In the truck (because you never called it what it was, it was always a truck) my hand found it’s way into yours and suddenly being stuck in DC traffic on a humid July afternoon wasn’t nearly as bad. The stuffed panda that you surprised me with (who still has no name) sat in my lap and pacified the anticipation that my mind would wrap itself up in. But I was not nearly as nervous as I thought I might have been.

After the thunder & lightning calmed, we layed in bed at the Westin; naked & vulnerable. The lamps cast a warm glow throughout the room & we decided that we both wanted our house to be decorated in modern hotel-style decor. “It feels like we’ve known each other forever, it’s so comfortable” you commented and leaned into me to rest your head upon my shoulder. We spent the rest of the night wrapped around each other under the sheets, ruminating over simple matters, inciting laughter, and sharing invaluable moments of silence. You feel asleep with your arms around me and your face nuzzled into the nape of my neck. I could feel your chest rise and fall against me as the sound of your breathing lulled me into safety and dreams.