She sits, tears cascading turbulently down her cheeks. She wonders how she got here, to this place of pure petrification. Has she not been diligently working towards overcoming her demons, the monsters in her head?

Out her window shines a brilliant sunset, she leaves her stuffy room to enjoy this moment of beauty in her torrid world.

At it again

Here I am, Sunday evening, needing sleep and unable to accomplish it. The only thing I've uttered in the last hour is "I'm overwhelmed". It softly exhaled out of my mouth without me knowing it was coming. And that subconscious escape was spot on. I am moving in with my grandmother within the week, need to buy a new car, have a budding relationship (that I am currently freaking out about,) need to figure out my school stuff, have to find a home for my cat...so on and so forth.

I feel as if my life has been flipped upside down, well, I know it has, so it's an appropriate feeling. I still have to pack up the majority of my place and I don't know when I will be able to move stuff to my grandmothers, because that responsibility was handed off to my aunt who's in town, and with that transference I was taken out of the loop. Which isn't a good thing for a micromanaging control freak like me. I'm trying to completely downsize, this means getting rid of things that I have acquired over the years that I found to be a great resource, aesthetically pleasing, or just part of my collection of shit that I like to call "mine". This hasn't been easy for me, and with all the other shit loaded on top of it I have more or less shut down.

This shutting down means I want to sabotage all the good things in my life, and those things are work and the wonderful man. I want to just tell my job to shove it until I have all this other stuff figured out, and I want to just distance myself (even more) from the wonderful man. As is, I have been so busy I rarely see him, and when I do, I feel so preoccupied I'm sure he feels like he's dating a reanimated corpse, sans the zombie thrill. But the thing is, I also want to cling to him. I want him around me to support me, to make me feel like I have a place in my crazy world, but I can't ask him for that...well, I did actually. I asked if he wanted to help me pack, and I was met with disgust. I think his words were "If I were moving I wouldn't expect you to pack up my shit" Not gonna lie, that one stung, and he has every right to say it, it's my shit, it's all my shit. It was my choice to move in with a stranger I call "Gramma", it was my choice to accumulate so many useless things, it was my choice to procrastinate my responsibilities and act on the frivolities, it's my shit...but now, in essence he too is part of my "shit". Or at least I want him to be...at this point I don't know if he is feeling the same way...and I just want to give it up instead of seeing if I'm wrong.

This is what I do, I would much rather cut and run than allow anyone to hurt me. If I hurt me that is something I can deal with, if I allow someone else to hurt me that equates to weakness for me. I don't like to be vulnerable, and I don't like to allow others the knowledge that I am anything but impervious. UPDATE! So, he just sent me an email, wants to make me dinner, AND introduce me to a friend of his...this would be a first. See...freaking out for no reason. Phew!

And instead of dwelling on all that other shit, I'm going to get off of here, bask in the glow of his wonderful thoughtfulness, and request my body rest the way it needs to.

Night
HMR

Budding

I recently started dating a wonderful man, yes, wonderful, and a man. I thought this was an obsolete model. But, I found him. Here's the thing...I am freaking out. For the last few years I have been in a series of short-lived, casual relationships. For a while it was fine, then it got frustrating, it then reached a boiling point; I became down-right depressed about my dating life. I wondered all the normal self-hating things we as women think (even us self-sufficient, and confident women,) am I too flabby, am I not wearing the right style of clothing, should I start wearing scented lotions, and god-forbid, perfume? Am I too forward, not forward enough, too loud; would heels do the trick, or does that give off the impression I'm high maintenance? You name it, I thought it, but underneath all the learned self-doubt, I always knew those things weren't the problem, there was something I was missing, a piece to the puzzle that fell forgotten in some corner of my mind. It wasn't until today I found it.

This wonderful man and I went camping with some of my friends, this was the first official meeting, and I was a little nervous, one, because he's meeting my friends, and two, he was willing and excited to meet my friends. I should have been delighted at how well he fared, how easily he could talk to all of them, how quickly he melded with them. And, I suppose part of me was, but as the trip continued I became more and more withdrawn. The more he assured me through body language and gentle caresses, the more I holed up within my own head. What the hell is wrong with me!? Here, right in front of me, is a man willing to meet my friends after a few weeks of dating, allowing himself to be stuck in the woods with people he doesn't know, and he's not only knocking that out of the park, but he is showering me with subtle and not so subtle gestures that he is thinking of me, happy to be around me, appreciating me, desiring of me, and enjoying himself.

Back to that puzzle piece I was talking about. I found it, figured it out, found it's place in the great mystery that has been my dating life. He has potential, long-term potential. He is nearly everything I have been looking for, and as detailed as that list is, he is probably as close as anyone is going to come to fulfilling all my criteria. It makes me feel completely unworthy, and I know that's stupid. I'm intelligent, funny, compassionate, easy-going, motivated, and other things that sound nice when written out. I deserve to be happy, I deserve to be treated with respect. I deserve to have someone desire me, and all the things that go along with a healthy relationship, so what's the problem? I have never had a healthy relationship, not with my family, not with any of my long-term (or short-term) boyfriends, and not with a fair portion of my friends. I have always desired one, but have never experienced it in practice. I have been conditioned to believe I am not allowed happiness, that for me short-term bliss is all I will encounter. A long-term scenario has never crossed my path, and for that reason and that reason alone I am losing my shit. I'm throwin' up the walls as fast as I can, trying as hard as I can to come up with reasons it won't work ( I still haven't found any, by the way,) and the only person I'm hurting in this situation is myself.

Now that I know what is causing this asinine fear I can counteract it with logic, right? If only it was that easy. Now I'm thinking no matter what I do my crazy is going to show. I'm either going to transform into this shriveled version of the person he has known for the last few weeks, or I'm going to have to let him in on the dark undercurrent that is my learned abuse. And I don't think that he'd do so well hearing, "Hey, you're absolutely wonderful, and as far as I can tell, there isn't a single flaw in you, but I've been abused emotionally my whole life, and now that's all your problem, how do you feel about that?" I'm sure there is some middle ground in there...but I never see any gray area while in the midst of a self-induced mental doubt spiral.

The worst thing about this, I feel guilt, guilt for being treated kindly, lovingly. Guilt for him showering me with compliments and affection. Guilt for him acting like a gentleman and being chivalrous. Why the hell am I feeling guilty for finally getting the things I've always desired, and deserve? Fuck if I know. You fill in that blank for me, because I think although it's related to the whole abuse thing there is a subtle variation on it's root cause. The feeling of unworthiness I get, but this, this is out of my league. I rarely feel guilt, and this is so, because I attempt, and usually succeed at living my life in a way that makes guilt an impossible feeling for me to experience. I am always honest, I am caring, I am...all those really great things I talked about up in paragraph three. The only thing I can point to is my self-sufficiency. I have been the keeper of my own life, and the decider in nearly every relationship I've had. I have been the one in control, the planner, the doer. He is on top of his shit. He doesn't need help loading up the car to go camping, and was probably as efficient at that task as I would have been ( I pride myself on my organization skills,) he plans our dates and does a damn good job, most of the other guys I've dated wouldn't know what a date was if it was attached to a wrecking ball and smashed into them at high speed. But are these things really guilt-inducing?

I'm sure this will be the first of many installments, but for now I'm done, it's nearly midnight, and I need to sleep, not like putting down the laptop and walking away slowly will bring the much needed slumber. I never get sleep when I'm like this, too hopped up about potentialities that don't really exist, and if they do, can't do anything about at 11:50 PM on a Sunday night, or any night for that matter.

Fin
HMR

Bliss

Created bliss is as substantial, if not more so, than accidental.

Occasionally events occur that keep us from our bliss, things truly outside of our control, it is in these moments that I find myself turning on the reserves and searching diligently for my own shred of bliss. Today, which was rather hard for me due to a series of events that are not truly relevant, to me, or to anyone else, I decided that I would take a gander at the web at large. I honed in on a few specific topics, also irrelevant; it was within this personal search that I came across a hilarious post that had me laughing so hard my ribs hurt (which isn't hard at the moment.) This bliss was brought on by the most ridiculous photo of a dogs head with a motivational statement attached: "Pee on babies, they won't remember" I suppose this can also be lumped into the "accidental" bliss, namely because it had no pertinence to the search I was doing, but non-the-less, I was in search of happiness, and wow did it deliver.

My advice to myself, and by proxy to you, is too search for joy when joy is elusive. We have all we need to change our current rut, we must only put a bit of effort, and allow ourselves to be receptive to such things.

For the contemplative

Inside my head everything happens. Everything I want, and everything I don't want. Everything that screams the truth and every other imaginable thing. With these thoughts, I feel most at home. I don't mind being alone, but I find myself wondering when I will stop being alone. The last few months I have wanted someone to share my world with, share my head with. I have quite the brain, always figuring out the ways of others, the way of myself. I am good at this. Very good at this. I strip down the walls that people build to mask their truth, strip down myself until I am nothing but thought, which is all we are anyway. We act on our thoughts, live through our thoughts, are hindered by them. Emotion, a byproduct of these thoughts, becomes the very product of our lives. To me, you think what you are, or are what you think. It is up to us to become our thoughts and share this legacy with the world. It is up to us to break down our fear into moments of thought. I'm not saying that fear isn't healthy...like one of my fears, miserable physical pain, this keeps me from doing things like attempting standing backflips and jumping over moving cars...this is a healthy fear, because even though we are thought, we are housed in a body that doesn't understand the vast opportunity of our mind. I am often misunderstood as rude or any other number of negative qualities, this is because people are afraid of themselves, afraid of their mind. Our mind is just a labyrinth we must master, find the path that gives us a reasonable and pleasant outcome. As with any labyrinth, fear is the opponent, if we allow fear to win we remain in that miserable and unending place. If we allow ourselves the power to know fear is but a byproduct of moments of thought, we are granted freedom, freedom from ourselves, and from the world at large. Given the option most people will acquiesce to what is "comfortable", what is normal to them...I think as humans we fear the unknown, and failure more than anything else. If one allows themselves to transcend these thoughts we are but birds floating over the miasma marveling at what we are truly capable of. There is one thing that I have not mastered with thought, and that is love of another.

I have made the life I want for myself, mastered my fear, and have realized I am capable of anything I desire in this world...except for a mate. This is not something my mind can materialize for me. I recently met a man who decided that he was ready to meet someone who would love him for everything he was, he did a sort of ceremony to will this person to him, this person was me...I will not go so far as to say I love him, but I understand him, I understand his journey and know that he will find his path, I am accepting and compassionate, caring and all other things a person desires as a human, there is one problem, he is afraid, he has not allowed himself freedom, and this in turn means it will never work. He brought to him all he wanted through the power of thought, and can't seem to accept what lies in front of him. I have done no such ceremony, and have little desire to do so, but I still find it fascinating that someone who had the power to do such a thing is too terrified of the reality of it to let it work. I too wish for someone who will understand me, who can follow the path of my mind, who knows my freedom and is free themselves. People continue to say that I am young, that I will find this person, and perhaps I will, but I feel as if I am old, I feel like my time on this earth is short, and I would like to spend as much of this time with someone who understands the journey as I do. Living life everyday to be free, to be happy, to take risks that help us grow, learn, progress.


Well, for anyone who reads this, you just viewed part of my brain...hope you enjoyed it and could track it on some level. Til next time. ~H

Hopeful

Justin stands smoking a cigarette (he's 8,) on the corner of Kemp and Kensington. He wears a tattered blue Adidas shirt, black jeans, the right leg ripped from knee to ankle, and sneakers 3 sizes too big. He picks up a medium size rock, weighs it in his hand with a slight jostle, he then turns toward the garage behind him and throws, as hard as he can, squarely hitting the one remaining window. He laughs with the sound of shattering glass. His mother and some man he just met this morning come out of the house next to him, mother shouting, man with beer in one hand, cigarette in the other.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His mother yells.

Justin just stares at her.

"Get in this fucking house right now!"

On his way into the house he grabs the beer out of the mans hand, takes a long drink, and while returning it asks, "Hey man, can I have a cigarette?"

The man, nearly as tall as the door frame, tattoos peeking out from the edges of his clothes looks at the boy, then at the boys mother, she shrugs her shoulders. The man takes out his pack of Marlboro Reds, opens the top and tips two cigarettes into the boys waiting hand.

"Really, two?" Asks Justin.

As Justin walks into the house, toward his hovel-like room he holds back the tears welling up in his eyes. This is the nicest one who's come along, he thinks to himself, I hope he stays awhile.

Here it is again

That feeling of oblivion. The sense that something quick is at my heels, waiting for the moment I lessen my step. The dark corners creep ever closer. Something's got to give, and I'm not sure what it is; my soul perhaps, maybe my mind. Fuck. I have felt this dread so many times before, the first time I was 4; I thought that this feeling meant fire. Flames to engulf my life. It still manifests as fire, I thought I had come to terms though. Thought something within me had an understanding. Not the case. It seems the only reasonable thing to take the air out of me, my spirit, needs to be quelled, turned into something, something different, something dangerous, something that burns. I'm afraid of the dark these days, afraid of the things I can feel, but can't see. Afraid of the wind that brings me sounds of another world, one I have only one foot in. But where does that other foot reside? I feel but a shell, walking as if I belong, knowing I do not. I can't make sense of it anymore, the harder I reach, the further it retreats. Glass is beautiful, especially when shattered, fire can shatter glass. Chaos. Heat. Flame. Air. Hotter. Destroy. A cycle I no longer wish to engage in, no matter how familiar. When does the air run out so the fire will stop?