Lost a little buddy today. Rest in piece to the dog that’s been around since I lived in the valley. Sad to see him go. It’s like a little part of my childhood went away. I kind of don’t really know how to feel.
There is nothing worse than being with someone and still feeling completely and utterly alone.
Birthday today. Surreal. I don’t feel like it.
For the record
If you leave me desolate and distraught, with red bandanas on my back and red blood on my hands, I will not weep for you.
If you decimate me with the power I gave you, if you wreck me with the force of a thousand storms, pit me against a stacked race of arms, I will not weep for you.
If you led me to the furthest cliff, and broke me over it, I would be broken but I still would not weep for you because I have learned the hard way that tears are just beads of sweat that didn’t work hard enough.
And for the record, I am a disaster, the product of disaster, but someday you will realize that this wreck is the closest you will ever come to something real. And you will weep because you snapped me in half so I may never be the twig that starts the fire, and you will weep because you shot down your favorite bird and you will ache for the fire once again because it was the only thing that ever brought you light.
I haven’t been writing much because I’ve been kind of depresssed and uninspired.
I’m about to go off though, honestly. I’m so sick of people flaking out on me or expecting me to carry a friendship or any kind of relationship for that matter. I have been the type of person to do that in the past, but not anymore. If you don’t want to talk to me or text me first why should I put in the effort if you’re not going to. I know a phone works two ways, but that applies to both parties. People get mad cause they make plans and flake out on me and I don’t want to hang out anymore, like somehow it’s my fault you flaked out. I get I live far away, but if I’m offering you gas money or to take you for lunch or coffee, all out of my own pocket and you can’t spare the time it takes to drive maybe twenty minutes out of your way then fuck you. You tell me you’re broke or too busy- fuck that it’s not an excuse. You can’t chill with me, but you got plenty of time to go to the mall and post tons of pictures with your other friends on Instagram, that’s cool I see you. You want to talk to me but expect me to text or call first- first off I hardly do that anyway, second- if you expect me to do it then you better do it as well. If you really want to be around someone you make the effort because it’s important to you. And if I’m not important to you, don’t waste my time. Literally, you flake out on me more than once and you’re dead to me. I’m done with people expecting so much of me when they don’t even hold themselves to that standard. I’m done with the games, the “I’m busy” or “I’m broke” or “I got caught up”. Nah, you got me fucked up.
I have come to the realization that I’ve been sort of shitty to some of the people I care about the most. I have taken many of them for granted and it makes me feel awful. I’m a huge contradiction in that I’m the biggest, most judgemental asshole, but I’m also very caring. I want people to think of me as being kind, not bitchy. I wish I was a better person.
Be with someone who looks at you like you’re the fastest car in the whole world, who treats you like they can’t afford you, someone who knows just how to rev your engine.
Be with someone who loves you despite your miles.
Fall for someone who believes that you’ll never lose a race, never miss a mark, that you will never falter.
Be with someone who drives you, someone who will spend every cent and spare second to make you better.
Be with someone who looks at you like you’re the fastest car in the whole world, and they are the only person with keys.
I am in love, and I don’t know if that puts me in the wrong.
I am alone, and I’m unsure if that makes me less justified.
I am scared and I know it makes me less brave.
I can’t hold on but I won’t let go, I am reaching towards a body I can’t save, a mind I can’t read, a light that I can’t see.
Concepts I don’t grasp are the hardest to have faith in. People are hard to have faith in.
But have faith in knowing that I am doing my best, and take solace in knowing I don’t settle for less, and find peace in the facts because they are what they are. Don’t question each mark and spot and freckle and scar, accept that we are all alone, and scared, and hopelessly in love with something or someone where we have no control of the outcome.
I’ve got baggage like weights on my shoulders, the ones who pack it away do more damage.
You are the body I can’t save, but I am an open book, with some blank space.
I am writing our story about how we did it all anyways, terrified, somber, and stumbling in the dark. This is a memorandum for my sad heart who just wants a little bit of something good to hold onto, someone to come home to, some change in a jar and bread on the table.
But hey, who am I to say I’m worthy, or even remotely deserving?