Birthday Bitch

So, apparently it’s almost the Office Bitch’s birthday. Around here, everyone secretly signs a card for the birthday person. Her card ended up on my desk to sign today. I was one of the last 3 to sign. When I opened it, all the signatures were merely “Dawn” “Lynn” etc – no “Have an awesome birthday! From Dawn” or “I hope it’s excellent! Lynn” …I found it oddly reassuring that the smiles thrown her way are all fake. It’s obvious someone is disliked when the warmest words in their birthday card are the ones in the pre-printed greeting.
My note: “I hope its wonderful! She”

Wine Marathon

The other weekend, our sorority past president came into town for some advisor meetings. Another girlfriend and I had already planned a PanAm marathon to catch ourselves up since Sundays at 10pm seems to be a impossibe timeslot. So, the three of us all enjoyed a bottle of wine during the 4 episodes we needed to watch. We proceeded to continue our marathon-mode till 2am with season 1 of Sex & the City while I worked on a memory video of my girlfiend&I. Once that was completed and we finally got to watch it, we passed out like we hadn’t slept in days. Apparently, we aren’t as young&wild as we were, but I very much appreciated the evening, their patience in waiting, and the yummy wine bottle.

Mad World

And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad

The dreams in which I'm dying
are the best I've ever had.

I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take

When people run in circles
its a very
very
mad world
mad world.

Wednesday Games

My #bff knew that I would probably need some company over Thanksgiving weekend, so she invited me over for dinner and a sleepover at her parent’s house last Wednesday night. Her boyfriend, who’s an awesome fella, also joined us for the evening. We had some spaghetti and wonderful bread with pumpkin pie for dessert, then played board games & had drinks in the den. First was Yhatzee – my personal favorite – then Clue, which none of us knew how to play. We basically made up the rules as we went along – only having 3 people for a 6 player game. #bff got murdered in Yhatzee then ended up as the murderous Miss Peacock in Clue, which – despite her best efforts – she also didn’t win. I fell asleep in the recliner about half-way through Bad Teacher and sleepily wandered up the stairs to her room at its conclusion. The company of great friends can make even the worst nights unknowingly perfect.

Oddly Calm

I feel as though I had enough freak-outs during the month of November that, by the time the 24th rolled around, I was oddly calm despite its significance. I woke up next to my #bff and quietly packed and left for the cemetery. On the way, he dad called: tell the coffee lady what you want. I giggled. A nonfat nowhip caramel brulée, please. I pulled through the gates and drove toward the angel statue that watches over my baby’s headstone. He was already there, sitting in his blue Comero convertible – smokin’ a cigarette and sippin’ his starbucks. Good morning, Angel. He wrapped his arms around me – a hug that generally would well my eyes up. This time, though, we just smiled at each other. I got out the blanket her&I had snuggled under for years and laid it on the frosty ground for us to sit silently on & watch the sun rise over the fog. We smoked&laughed for about an hour before I left him sitting there. A couple tears flowed as a headed to my car, but I was oddly calm&comfortable the entire day. I miss her, of course. I always will. And the sting will sneak up when I’m not pay attention, I’m sure. But it was nice to make it through the 24th in a relatively normal state of mind.

I won't let you close enough to hurt me.
No, I won't ask you,

you to just desert me.
Turning Tables - Adele

Waiting

I remember the hollow sound of the phone line
as if it were
the twinkling jewelry box song that played next to my crib as a baby.
The emptiness holds the same familiarity
as a hymn I’d grown up singing or the ding of my own doorbell.
I remember attempting the 30-minute drive home.
The screams coming from my body
and exploding into my car
were howls of desperation
that I’d never conceived could rise from a human being.
Where are these noises coming from?
What is going on?
I’d ask of myself in the seconds when my cries couldn’t drown-out my sanity.
Drowning, I was - sinking into a blackout.
And I had no desire to stop myself.
I clung to her X-box:
the only item I had of hers in my car at the time.
I clung to the plastic like her skin was draped around it.
Like her scent would tickle my nose if I held it close enough.
Like she’d be coming back for it
any minute
and I’d be holding on
ready for her to take me away.
I remember the phone calls, texts, voicemails:
telling me how sorry everyone felt
not to blame myself
and that I’d be ok.
I’m never gonna be ok.

I remember the night before the funeral.
I slept on the floor next to her bed
curled into a tiny ball in the pitch-black stillness.
I remember my arm aching from holding it up
so my hand could gently stroke “her side” of the comforter.
I remember the beige carpet
soaked under my face
scratching at my tired eyes.
How am I supposed to do this without you?
I remember the funeral.
My face constantly pulled into random shoulders.
I remember our promise ring on her finger:
how huge it looked over her tiny knuckle.
I remember the desperation I felt as they closed her in for good.
She can’t breathe in there!
I screamed internally through the entire service.
I remember hands rubbing my back
sympathetic stares from all around me
hearing one of our songs played
and
waiting for her silly sing-a-long to find my ears.
I think that song was the last thing I heard for a long while.

I know I cleaned her apartment:
sorted and donated her things.
Found the box she’d left me with
“To my Bunni”
written on the side.
Thanks, bubba, for packaging it all so nicely.
I filled my bedroom with everything
– hers, mine, & ours –
and existed in our bubble.
I have no recollection of time.
I know it was winter.
I’m sure there were days when I never left that room.
I know I had classes.
I have no idea what they were.
I know I went out.
I don’t know how anyone could stand to be around me.
I smoked cigarettes
ate nothing but hot tamales
and drank coffee like water.
I honestly believe I was just waiting around till I got to join her.
Whether I drank myself to death
starved myself to death
or slept until my death...
I blacked out and waited for my baby.

For the longest time, I talked to her.
I talked about her like she’d just left for a little while.
Very matter-of-factly:
I acted as though I’d be seeing her shortly.
I didn’t reminisce on the good ole days.
I don’t remember really looking at pictures or telling old stories.
I just waited for her.

Then I woke up in Florida
– one whole year later –
interning for the Most Magical Place on Earth
and finally realizing:
she’s never coming back.

You Asked

You asked me if I’d love you
I said no.
You asked me if id take you back
I said no
You asked me if id ever be ok
I said no.
I feared we wouldn’t be.

You pulled the trigger.
What
the
fuck
were you thinking?

You thought I was telling the truth…
but
Id have never stopped loving you.
Id have taken you back, you know I always did.
I’d have been ok.
We'd have been ok.

I’ll never be ok.

November 23, 2009

Little Details

My mind has been consumed by all the little details.
The ring I gave her that she wore till the end – the few meals I ate that weekend – the dress I wore – the tights I bought at Target that morning – the bar we went to after the viewing – the shower I took – the color of the flowers – the ugly sweater-set her mom insisted on putting her in – the badge I snuck in with her – the long drive home – the cold, metallic door-knob I was unable to turn – the songs we sang – the hugs I collapsed into – the fear when they closed the casket – the reality of her being lowered – the cold air that bit my neck – the warmth that followed, surrounding me – the scent of her childhood bedroom – the comfort of the floor by her bed – the beige blanket I couldn’t bring myself to slide under – the cold, tight skin of her hands – the taste of Marlboro menthol milds – the letter we taped back together – the slideshow of pictures repeating – the cups that we threw in the parkinglot – the coffee I seemed to be living off – the hits that we took in the hallway – the words that we changed in the readings – the bracelets I made – the fear of seeing her dad – the long walk to the front of the funeral home – the lingering, unwanted mourners – the pit in my stomach – the lump in my throat – the calm – the panic – the desperation – the realization – the numbness – the ignorance – the blackout.
The little details.
They’re flashes&glimpses of a time I still catch myself believing doesn’t exist.

More Bubbles

So, not only do the problem bubbles people secretly live in astound me, but the things they regret and the memories that haunt them also kind of shock me these days.
Every Wednesday after our sorority meeting, my girlfriend and I used to round up some troops (or go alone) and hit up the local AppleBees for college night. We'd always ask our president at the time if she wanted to join, but she never made it. The other night, I showed a bunch of the girls a video I’d made and some of the pictures were of those AppleBees Nights. The busy-president wiped a tear from her eye.
“I always wish I would have gone to one of those.”
People all around me are regretting&hurting over things I’d have never even thought of…
I tend to only think of where I was when “it happened.” What I was doing, what I was thinking, how I reacted. But, every other person in her world had a different experience. Right now other people are haunted by a different memory of the moments surrounding The Event. Take for example one of my best girlfriends – I wouldn’t even think to wonder what specifically is bothering her during this two-year-mark-mourning-period… but she’s dreading her drive home for the holiday, cause it was during that drive that she got the phonecall about my girlfriend’s passing.
And I guess that brings up another point: she wasn’t just “my girlfriend.” She was our friends’ sister, drinking-buddy, roommate, flag football quarterback. I have to stop and remind myself in this time of internal aching that there’s a ton of other people out there aching, too. I remember, when she first passed, I worried about everyone else – how everyone else was coping – if others were ok. That was a good mindset to be in.
Don’t worry about me – I’m only one broken heart in a sea of others who miss you, baby.

These Days

These are the days when I could have done something. I knew there was a problem. I could feel a cloud above our heads – that had been resting in separate beds more often than usual. These are the texts I should have responded to more happily, more positively. These are the emotions I should have tried harder to understand. These are the arguments that burned – the ones I should have forgiven. These are the shadows of my selfish self clinging to the girl she’d known who’d never’ve let someone hurt her. I grasped at my independence&strength by trying to let go of someone who was letting go of herself. These are the days I should have held on to.

These are the days leading up to the day I'll long to go back to forever.

Magnolia's Hiding

I firmly believe that my baby’s still with me. Things happen that can’t be rationally explained – generally when I’m upset or something big is going on.
When I first moved to FL, I dreamt that she was sitting on my bed when I got home from work – a dream of her in a place she’d never been in life. To me, that means she’d visited where I was living after passing – probably checkin’ out the place…makin’ sure I was comfortable.
We had this song on our playlist that we found on some random mix cd a friend had burnt – we could never figure out the title or artist, but we loved it. When I got my new computer and couldn’t transfer my old music, our playlist quietly remained on the old one and I could never download that song to the new one, cause I couldn’t find it. One night, in the middle of a crying fit, I turned on shuffle on the new computer. Bellowing from the untitled tracks was that song.
Let’s stand back & watch the world fall apart for fun. We could be angels…
My heart stopped. Then I just smiled.
Weird, unexplainable things happen and I chalk it up to her “just sayin’ hi.”
This morning, I looked up the cemetery she’s buried in so I could draw a map for a friend. As I zoomed, a nearby road popped up. Magnolia.
I recall, in my sleep, how you changed my life on Magnolia Street.
That had been another of our songs and, in her suicide note, she’d promised to forever wait for me on Magnolia Street. I once took a roadtrip searching for Magnolia’s… for 500 miles I wound around the country stopping and taking pictures of street signs. Then, this morning – 2 days before the 2 year mark – she showed me another.
Thank you, baby. I love it when you “just say hi.”

Mentioned Secrets

I’ve got secrets.
And I like them.
But they’re unfair
cos those left unaware
don’t deserve the dark.
In my defense
I never lie
I simply fail to mention.
But what's left out
without a doubt
would break my listeners.
I thrive on my imperfections
but I know
entirely so
they would break you,
my dear.

Beer Flights

Apparently, I’ve been harboring a love for chocolaty-coffee brews. Yesterday, a good friend texted me during lunch and asked if I wanted to grab a beer at the bar she works at – Shakespeares. Most definitely. I love middle-of-the-afternoon decisions. I love them even more when they involve booze. And I love them the most when the booze is something new I get to try. I started out with a Soft Parade – brewed by Shorts – a strong ale with raspberries, strawberries, and blackberries. It packs a high 9.5% abv and tastes like Kool-Aid. Dangerous. Next, I had a flight – 4 small beers – which reminded me of the flights of authenticGerman&SamAdams brews I served at Epcot’s Food&Wine Festival. Obviously, any Disney memories make me a happy girl. The 4 I chose for my flight were:
Edmond Fitzgerald – a Porter by Great Lakes with a 5.8% abv
Espresso Love – a Stout by Arbor Brewing with a 7.5% abv
Total Eclipse – a breakfast Stout by Maumee Bay with a 9.1% abv
Winter White – a winter Ale by Bell’s with a 5.0% abv
Now, I mostly chose them because of their names. I was enchanted by the story of the Edmond Fitzgerald growing up, I love espresso, I just saw Twilight, and its supposed to be winter out. It turned out that all 3 initial choices were chocolaty-coffee brews and the last a light clove&fruit brew. Funny how I did that. I liked them all, of course. I’ve only ever run across one beer I was entirely not fond of
–
a scotch ale served at room temperature.
Ew.

Problem Bubbles

It astounds me
–
the internal battles that other people are fighting.
I sit in my bubble and let my own problems surround me, then
– in one dinner date, beer tasting, or texting fit –
I learn that the people I love are sitting in problem bubbles, too.
Open your eyes, girl! I think to myself. You’re not the only one on the struggle bus!
I like it when I realize
– though I don’t like to know that my friends are hurting –
but I like it when I know and I can help.
Even if I can’t entirely wrap my head around and understand their issue,
to know it’s there at all makes me more aware of loving them.

I Remember

CuriosityKilledtheCat
I don’t remember the moment that my sexual curiosity developed. I don’t remember a distinct day when I wanted to kiss my best girlfriend in the 5th grade. I just remember kissing her. I remember sleeping naked next to her – our 10-year-old bodies not understanding why we desired to do so. I remember stolen kisses in laundry rooms and provocative dancing at underage parties. I remember using booze as an excuse, but knowing full-well what my intentions were. I remember kissing boys cos I was “supposed to.” I didn’t mind – but I don’t remember enjoying. I remember being jealous and feeling guilty. I remember wanting. I don’t remember feeling like I shouldn’t “feel things” but I remember knowing that I shouldn’t tell.
I remember and I forget and I erase and I imagine.
I remember the first time my roommate touched me. My entire body tingled. I’d stifled my desires so incredibly that her fingertips seemed to burn my skin. I remember aching for more – but burying my hipbones in the beige carpet to avoid turning and allowing both of us to acknowledge how little control I had. I remember wincing in agony as she traced the back of my ribcage. I remember my breaths coming merely from the back of my tongue – the depth of my existence had been captured by her hands. I remember when she finally kissed my shoulder and the surrounding carpet turned to undulating, warm liquids. I remember shadows and darkness and panting and rubbing. I remember yearning and knowing. I knew that she held all the cards. And remember giving them to her.
I remember opening my sleepy eyes to the note on my pillow:
“thank you for the night.”
I remember feeling like all the things I should or shouldn’t, have or hadn’t, want or waited for made sense. Reality had set in. Those naked nights in my awkward pre-teen body – those lip-locks on the washing machine – those shirtless grinds to Ludacris: they’d been nothing to be ashamed of. I’d known all along that I shouldn’t be. I remember knowing. I remember feeling set-free and released, though. I may've never felt stifled – but I felt like shouting, now. Curiosity hadn’t killed this cat – it had released the soul inside of me. I remember wanting everyone to feel what I was feeling. But I knew that that’s irrational. Curiosity can break a person down – ruin the life they’ve been happily leading – boggle their mind and jumble their spirit. I was lucky that night on the floor. I remember knowing that I was meant for that moment. Not everyone is meant for those moments.
The key to remembering is not needing to forget or erase or imagine.
I remember. And I thank her for the night.

NovemberNothingness

Yes, its been 2 years. Well 1 year and 362 days… but who’s counting? I spent last year in Disney World, though – took the day off work and got drunk in the Magic Kingdom. The reality was gone without a grave to visit or mourners to hug. I remember aching, but it was an unexplainable ache that I was comfortable experiencing alone. And that’s what I did. My friends now tell me how worried they were. “Who’s gonna drive to Florida and make sure she’s ok.” But, despite their worry, everyone’s always known that there’s no fixing me. Thus, they let me be. I’ll be ok if I want to be. I blackout if I want to mentally disappear. I’ll ignore my phone&computer if I want to be out of touch. And being 19 hours away made my ability to do so completely attainable and their desires to help out of the question.
Now, though – almost 2 years after she left – I find myself in the middle of it all. I can’t just close my eyes, count to ten, and be somewhere else. I can’t get wasted and have people assume it’s simply another bar night – cause it’s not, and the people here know that. NovemberNothingness (as I’ve come to call it) is everything to the friends who surround me. They know that my strong face isn’t strong at all and my firm legs are shaking from the inside out. They know. They still know there’s no fixing me, but they know. And I wish I could pretend that 2-years-later it's so much easier – but as my 2010 black out doesn’t seem to count – here I am and nothing’s easier.
November will be over soon.

No Hesitation

"The moment I said it
the moment I opened my mouth
lead in your eyelids
bulldozed the life out of me.
I know what you're thinking
but darling you're not thinking straight.
Sadly things just happen
we can't
explain.
It's not even light out
suddenly
you've somewhere to be.
No hesitation.
I've never seen you like this.
You're scaring me - You're scaring me - You're scaring me to death.
I'm losing you - I'm losing you.
Trust me on this one:
I've got a bad feeling.
Trust me on this one:
You're going to throw it all away
with no hesitation."
Imogen Heap - The Moment I Said It

BlackOut Barbie

I say that 2010 was a blackout – mostly because I emotionally blocked out the world, but also because I literally blackedout all Spring. A good girlfriend&I participated in something we affectionately nicknamed DOTD’s. (DrinksOfTheDay) When we made up our minds to have a daily drink, we didn’t go back on our word. Now, I’d like to make it clear that I didn’t&don’t think we were alcoholics. We willingly chose to have a small glass of wine while watching TV, grab a $5 fishbowl Margarita from Roadhouse before a flag football game, or slam a FourLoco on a Saturday afternoon, but we never felt we needed to and I know we took a couple days off here&there. It was our last semester as undergraduate students, though, and as our crazy, college careers came to a close, we insisted on going out with a bang. Whoever wants to judge&label will simply roll out of my mind, cause they weren’t there and they’ll never get it. Sometimes you need a girlfriend to be mindless with – we had deep conversations, silly gigglefests, and all-day Dawson’s Creek marathons – but when the mind has already slipped into a dark, depressing place a friend who’s willing to silently sit by you without mentioning the pain or voicing potential worries makes a blackedout Spring seem completely reasonable&necessary.

Air Attack

I have this thing against the air.
I know it’s vital to my well-being, but I don’t like when things “touch the air too much.” Like food that has sat out for a little while – way too much air has touched it for me to want to eat. And bars of soap: surrounded by air – infested by air.
Or these containers I found on my bathroom counter this morning… that hair gunk has been touching the air all night. I feel like it would stick to my hair, pull things into my hair, wrap its air-infected livelihood around my strands of hair. And the tip of that drop bottle could go nowhere near my eye… there’s air all over it.
To each their own – of course. If air doesn’t bother other people, then – by all means – dip a big scoop out of that peanut butter jar whose lid has been half-screwed-on for days or scrub your teeth with the open-capped toothpaste. (I don’t even want to think about the fact that your toothbrush touched the caked-on paste surrounding the opening that’s been eaten-up and traumatized by the air.) Go right ahead and do- yo-thang with the air-filled consistencies of your life, but I myself will simply continue to stray away.

Mexican Nights

I’ve been on a mexican food binge this week.
3 nights in a row I had a vegetarian, dairy-free, taco salad.
3 nights in a row I loved it.
And I have left-overs tonight.
I can’t wait to rent a movie & eat them for dinner.

Ricky's Waffle

Scene: Lunchtime in the caf on move-in day of freshman year
Me: PISSED because Betty wouldn’t start in the parking lot
Company: My roommate and some girl she’d met from across the hall
After a long, crazy rant about how much Betty sucked and how much I hated her I felt I had successfully scared my roommate’s new friend
–
so I calmed down and explained…
Betty is my Blazer – broke down in the parking lot
and she’s having issues today.
OH – ok (she probably thought) this bitch isn’t completely insane.

Us - Dancing in the "First Snow" of 2006

That random girl became my RickyBobby and I became her Waffle. We spent the next four years living under the same roof – one of those years I literally lived UNDER her, well, under her loft bed in my own bed.
She’s been there through the shittiest of days and the wildest of nights.
We’ve
wreaked havoc on fraternity houses
danced our asses off in bars
played in countless snowstorms
stayed up for sunrises
driven all over the place
watched days-worth of movies
held each other up
and carried each other home.
We’ve been
Fanta Girls&Wizard of Oz characters
Sorority Sisters&Spring Breakers
Bar Stars&Hangover-Breakfast Extraordinaires.
When things fall apart – Ricky’s a wiz with puzzles
(even the ones with missing pieces)
…and when things come back together – she’s got the party-plans covered.
I’ve got the best friends a girl could ask for.
Through thick&thin, good&bad, up&down.
And no matter how much distance separates us as we turn into “big girls”
–
I never want to miss a beat in my RickyBobby’s life.

Not Yet

When the
two words
I want to hear
have not yet been spoken
–
any other words
fall
pathetically
on my deaf ears.

Diet Season

It seems that every single person in my world is on a diet – which is kind of ironic considering it’s the Holiday Season i.e. Time-To-Pack-It-In-&-Embrace-The-Pounds. I guess it’s a good theory – get in the right mindset now so holiday indulgences don’t do as much damage.

So, I won’t complain about having healthy friends.
Mr.U – who is wonderfully attractive in my eyes – is a salad-eating, turkey-burger monster. A big, manly guy-friend – who I had dinner with last night – is a breakfast-oatmeal, chicken-breast fiend. One of my best girlfriends – who’s absolutely adorable with a hint of high blood pressure – is a fiber-bar, exercise-oholic queen.
And I’m happy for them all and with them all. It’s never too late to start thinking in “healthy terms” and it’s never a bad idea to keep an eye on one’s weight – especially at this time of the year. Even the company I work for is hoping to keep its employees waistlines comfortably fitted inside their regular-size pants this season with a "Holiday Freeze Challenge." And I guess it does me some good to have reminders around me, too.

Thursday Weather

Thursdays are apparently the only day of the week that Winter wants to come out and play this season. And, of course, it is the one day that I’m absurdly busy with lots of driving&walking. While most weeks have been bombarded with torrential downpours and high winds – last week: it snowed.
My adorable friend made a teeny-tiny snowman on her deck with the few inches of white-fluff that accumulated and I couldn’t help smiling when I walked through my snowy campus all-lit-up at night. Go figure, today – another lovely Thursday – there’s a chance of snow in the forecast. I don’t even mind, though. The WinterWonderLand of this Midwestern state I live in will have to come eventually and I’d almost say I’m almost ready for it.

Or ...I'll at least pretend I am.

Delicate Silence

I know people are trying to be nice&supportive,
but “I’m here for you” messages
that only come at the end of November
don’t mean much to me.

"So why do you fill my sorrow
with the words you've borrowed
from the only place you've known
And why do you sing Hallelujah
if it means nothing to you
Why do you sing with me at all?"

Damien Rice - Delicate

Healthy Ridicule

Pot Lucks.



– pot lucks –



Everywhere.

My office has food at least every other day. That’s fine. I have a lot of self-control and I’m a bit of a picky eater, so it’s not like it really bothers me. But it does amaze me. And it’s a little irritating when I’m deciding what I want to bring and all I really want to bring is a veggie platter, but everyone ridicules me for picking a “healthy option.” When the sign-up list is full of cookies, brownies, sliders, and cheesy potatoes – I don’t see what’s wrong with someone bringing in some greens. And I will not back down – if I have to bring food in, I’m bringing something that I’d actually want to eat left-overs of. Part of me is secretly excited at the prospect of all the left over veggies I’ll have for salads next week. Who wants to bet the person bringing in brownies will have an empty pan to take home?

#bff

“Aren’t you sad you can finally hang out again and she’s just napping?”
“I don’t care what she’s doing. I’m just glad she’s here.”

This is my best friend. We spent last summer enjoying silly days consisting of people watching out her front window, napping, wandering around campus, laying by the pool, watching marathons of weird tv shows, and floatin’ around in the clouds. I could spend every day in the most random fashion if I was with her.
We spent a solid half-a-year not talking. She didn’t apologize for something miniscule and I moved away to Florida – once again letting my need for an apology from a friend plant itself in the front of my brain. We’re good now. She’s sorry. We’re both sorry. I can’t imagine my life without her. Had I not been 19hours away – the non-communication could never have lasted that long anyway.
But, yeah, I’m thankful every day for this amazing girl.
Ups&downs&all-arounds – days full of nothingness – nights full of craziness.
She’s pretty legit.

Acceptable Memories

"I’ve come to accept the fact that I’ll undoubtedly never feel that way again – I’ll never be so swept away&wrapped up – so unaware that life could have been or ever would be different from the love-soaked living we’d found ourselves inside.
And I’m ok with that acceptance.
The moments we had and the emotions we shared could last a million lifetimes over and still sweetly cling to the back of my neck without ever losing their luster.
I could live forever inside the memories we shared.
Sometimes… I fear I really will."

Stand Still

"I firmly believe that some people are born with a darkness. My bunni was. Though I didn’t know the details of her past darkness, I felt like I was saving her from something. Had I known how low she'd gotten before, I would have fought a million times harder, but I seemed blinded from that dark. Numbed to the notions that would have pointed me toward digging into her past. Whatever numbed me told me to live in the moment with her –to make her happy whenever I could. If those moments could be good enough, then the smiles I got were the smiles I'd cherish, no matter how many smiles she'd had&lost before me.
You never think that someone is actually going to do that. Actually take their own life. Her&I had big plans for the future. I always figured the worst that would happen was that our plans wouldn’t happen. I never thought that I wouldn’t have the option to choose whether or not they would.
I remember that last conversation.
Boy, was I angry.
She wanted to start over and erase all our issues.
“We can’t just erase things, bubbah. We can move on from here. We can get better and move forward and slowly forget the things that've gone wrong, but we can’t erase.”
Her response was loud. It wasn’t her voice. It wasn’t audible. Had she slammed the phone down? What an angry hang-up... we were seemingly fucked beyond repair.
I tried to call back. Sent her a reassuring text that, with help, she could get better and we could get better.
No response.
Fine.
“Be that way.” I angrily murmured to myself as I walked into the art building. The cold concrete walls matched my frustration. “I’m not fighting this battle without your effort anymore.”
Little did I know, her effort was over. Her last attempt at “our” happiness was to leave&hope I’d move on. The loud response I'd heard through the phone was a gunshot. A bullet placed behind her right ear.
Go figure, she’d preserved her beautiful face but turned her body off.

Almost 2 years later I still think about that “effort.” Not wanting to hold me back was an important desire of her’s. But, though she left in the hope that I’d move forward, in here absence I find myself bleakly standing still."
-excerpt from my novel

What If You

What if you
Could wish me away

What if you
Spoke those words today

I wonder if you'd miss me
When I'm gone

It's come to this, release me
I'll leave before the dawn

But for tonight I'll stay here with you
Yes, for tonight I'll lay here with you

But when the sun hits your eyes through your window
There'll be nothing you can do.
Joshua Radin - What If You

WindyCity Weekend

Mr.U and I decided to take a last-minute trip to Chicago this weekend.
Friday, we stayed with his cousins on the south side. I love meeting people’s families. You know you’ve got a good person on your hands when you love their family. We had homemade pizza, drank a ton of beer, and I toured the neighbors’ houses – absolutely in love with all the architecture.
Saturday we got up and got mexican breakfast at Bialy's – went into the city and walked around – laid on a bench in Millennium Park for a couple hours – checked into our hotel room – took a nap – went to dinner and drank all night at Timothy O’Tooles.
Sunday we woke up – had sex – and I went out for coffee while he slept some more. When we finally got around we headed to Wrigleyville for the day – got breakfast at Pick Me Up Café and drinks with friends at Red Ivy. A million too many shots later and I was turned away from the next bar – passed out on the train – wandered away from Mr.U and got a ride from some generous college students.
I need to stop getting lost and being saved by strangers. One of these times I won’t be so lucky. And one of these times he won’t be so forgiving. Fortunately, he was and our weekend was wonderful.