Friday, November 5, 2010

Let Go.

Tonight I left a big chunk of past behind.

Wow. :)

In with the new!

That is all.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Unspoken Words to all the Men I've Loved

Dear Ken,

Fuck you! I hope you’re miserable.

I don’t really, but I thought it would feel good to say that. It didn’t.

My head tells me she’s ugly, but I wonder if I’m saying that because I feel that inside (or maybe even out) I’m uglier. Obviously, she is more desirable. After all you married her, and left me behind.

Why do you get to seem so happy, when I feel so all alone right now?

I wish I could sell the ring and do something amazing with the cash from it. I’d travel all over Europe and become a Buddhist like in Eat Pray Love and I’d never look back. But I don’t even know how that story ended. I got sick in the theater and I had to leave.

I’m glad you’re happy. I’m just going to keep repeating this to myself and listening to the song “Best of Me” by Chrisette Michele until those words ring true in my heart and soul. I just wish it didn’t take so much effort for me to mean that simple phrase.

I’m glad you’re happy. I’m glad you’re happy. I’m glad you’re happy, and I wish you all the best.

I suppose it’ll come in time.

Dear Mike,

I’m mad at you.

I thought I’d miss you more. It surprises me how little I do.

I think about you every time we’re in Colorado. Actually, it’s of interest to me that I’m the one who brings you up even before Mom does.

It breaks my heart when she says she’s never going to call you again. This means I have to do the same. It’s just another man I’ve lost. But I’m not quite sure I ever really had you in my life. I’d like to think I did.

I wish I could say your face was disappearing from my memory. But it never will. I’ll always remember that great smile and the occasional boyish giggle while out in the wild.

And for the record, you deserve better than your new girl. She seems like a real bitch.

Dear Chris,

I still don’t understand.

It’s been a long time, and I try to tell myself that now that I’m older I get all the reasons you left me behind after calling me your own for nine years. I don’t.

I’ve looked up Tracy, Olivia and Vincent. Tracy hasn’t changed, and man does Olivia look like her! Vincent looks just like I imagined he would as a teen, and you no longer look like the man I called my father. I wish I could have known you all.

I was on the phone when Mom called. I heard your voice change when she said I wanted to talk to you. That tone said a lot. I wondered then, if it hadn’t been only me heartbroken for all these years, and maybe you and I both need closure.

I’m disappointed that neither of us will likely ever have that remedied. It sucks.

Dear Chuck,

I’m still hurting.

My heart aches a little every time that I am forced to compromise for her, when she won’t bend an inch for me.

I wish I could address you as Dad but the word just won’t come naturally from my mouth. Padre seems like it will have to do. At least for now.

I’m still confused as hell as to how to have a father-daughter relationship. I don’t have a clue as to how that whole thing goes, and I think that’s rather unfortunate. For both you and I.

I know you say if it came down to it, you’d choose me, but all past experience with men in general, and even with you, has proven otherwise. It makes it hard to believe. But I’d never tell you that, so instead it gets to stay here.

Thanks for calling me your daughter. Please don’t ever stop.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Take Smaller Bites

Looking at previous posts, I feel like I've been biting a little bit too much for me to chew all at once. Thus the probable reason I "don't know where to start" with things.

I need to simplify.

As the post title says... I need to remember to take smaller bites. Otherwise I will end up choking. And ya' can't do much when you're choking.

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

because i couldn't tollerate myself if i posted all of my minds inner workings on twitter.

+ The moment she starts carrying a tissue around in her pocket for use throughout the day, a girl becomes a woman.

+ I will never forget how surprised I was to find how easy it was to tell my mother that I was actually rather like her. And I wasn't ashamed.

+ I find myself thinking every day, how cool it is that my mother is my best friend.

+ Life is short, and there is a lot that I want to do. It's a new and fascinating idea to me that all it takes for me to achieve it all is to get up and DO it. It all starts with the simplest thing--the decision.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Note to Self: Don't Share!

I just hid more than fifty percent of my old blog entries.

It is such an odd thing to look at the writings that have come from your own past. Most of the time when I feel the need to write, there is a void I am looking to be filled in my life, or something that I am actively avoiding confronting. It is in those moments that the most "interesting" blogs come about. I am almost always very pleased as I write them, as well as when I finish. I will write all about my inner-most feelings, and somehow feel like someone may read it, be interested, be helped in some way. I am flattered by my own arrangement of the words to express what I am feeling or what I am not feeling inside.

And then, months later, I read those very same entries, smack my little forehead with my palm and ask myself "Why? Why did I post that?" My eyes become wide, my lips purse, and my inner voice whispers quietly to itself "Quick! Delete! Delete!" My heart even races a bit. Because, you see, the truth is that the "interesting" is truthfully, rather, more irrational emotion than anything.

True, we are only human, and as humans pain is inevitable. But it is the most unnerving thing to look at your past and see a moment where you've truly strayed from that strong, courageous, I-can-do-anything-I-set-my-mind-to person that you generally are, to write an over-emotional and public announcement that you have done so to whomever stumbles across this page on the internet.

But perhaps these shall, from now on, serve as good reminders to myself that I simply don't want to go there again. There is enough pain, anger and heartbreak in this world. I think next time I want to visit one of those emotions, I'll look back here and remind myself of that fact, decide to move along, and most definitely not to share!