A New Home

If you're interested, I'm still writing, just with a new voice. Find me here:

http://whatsonyourheart-speak.blogspot.com/

Breaking

I've been living without accountability. I can be the mess that I am and never improve, and that's how I like it. I'm supposed to want to be better, I know that...but I don't. I want to stay here, miserable, and not be bothered. I don't know how to be happy, and all I wanted was a way to avoid thinking about that fact. If I could simply rush fast enough, find enough distractions, find other people who make a life out of being a mess to throw myself in to, I could avoid the way things actually are.

A situation I cannot fix.

Here's the part where I say I am going to change.

I'm not.

I know myself well enough to know I'll keep doing it this way, my point is is that this blog is no longer useful to me. I no longer need a place to be sad, in fact I find sadness bothersome. It's no longer tragically beautiful.

So though Jude is a giant chunk of me, Jude is done here.

Hermit

I'm going away to be by myself. I'm tired of all of you. You walk around with your words and your pride and you just make me sick. You're so careless. So loveless.

I'm going away to feel the shape of myself again. I tend to lose sight of who I am in my efforts to find a place among you. What was it he taught me? There is no place for me. Not one of you will understand me, much less want me.

I'm going away to be myself again. The only place I feel like me is...Alone. I'll curl up inside myself and go back to sleep. I'll lie. I'll hide. I'll stop trying.

It's so much better this way.

Desperate

The shape of your full lips, and the sweet perfection.

It should have been enough.

I should have been lit.

Someone tell me why I can't feel.

A Thing Seldom Found II

You were in my dreams again last night.

I wonder...do you enjoy haunting me like you do?

I haven't thought of you in weeks, and then there you are, popping up inside my head. Against my will. I'm sure I imagine our memories better than they really were. I know that. And so I put them away, somewhere inside myself, and I leave them untouched. Until you....you come back and kick up the leaves. Make me ache for you.

This is madness. We've haven't spoke in years...our time together lasted the blink of an eye. And yet...my dreams...you're always in the ones I remember. And after each one I just want to run to you, just to speak to you.

If you could have been the one to undo all this wrong...how could you walk away?

I wish I could just forget you as much as you seem to have forgotten me.

You Smelled Like a Mix of Curve and My Own Personal American Dream

Sometimes I sit very still, close my eyes gently, and remember the scent of you. It's usually after I bump into someone wearing your cologne. The smell is close enough to bring you to mind, but lacks those tones specific to you, I strain my mind trying to remember them. That scent that was so unmistakably you is so vague, the memory flits on the outskirts of my mind, always trying to allude me. See my mind knows better than to let the other self remember you. What would be the point in allowing that false comfort? Sure, sometimes it's nice to go back, to remember those times before I had lost the single most precious thing in the world.

Because we were more than this. We were better. Better than the best and brightest dreams they sell in universities. Better than cars and tvs and dvd collections and limitless mp3s, better than the best fine cuisine. Better than even the strongest friendships. Better than any success one could hope to find.

Better than anything life has to offer.

And now I am without you, and must always be confronted by the knowledge that neither today, nor tomorrow, will there be anything better than us.

When I met you I lost my taste for anything else.

What do I do now? Knowing nothing...will ever be right again? And I will never again have a place I belong?

What do I do now that nothing matters?

I guess I can sit silently, looking as though I am merely day dreaming, and try, try so hard to remember what life was before my heart was shattered.

A Thing Seldom Found

I put my itunes on shuffle mode the other day and one of the Foo Fighters songs you loved came through my speakers. Of course I thought of you...and I just had to ask you...what were we?

To me...you were the brightest, and shortest moment of happiness in my life. I always hoped that we would come back together. You had your life to live, and I had mine, but I always hoped that in all the madness, somehow it would end up you and me.

I don't have a whole lot of faith in things like that, and then I never knew if you were serious about me...And I just need to know, so I can put this to rest, once and for all...how did you feel? Did you want me like I wanted you?

Was it more than just some short lived fling?

Do you think of me still?

Do you ever think that the single greatest tragedy is that we let each other go?

I remember our late night talks...continually being blown away by how right it felt to be with you. I thought you felt the same.

Maybe I was just wrong...If I was it can't hurt me now, but I need to know.

Maybe there was never a need for my sad and lonely days. Maybe...the hope I found in your eyes still exists. That's something to smile about, right?

Maybe you're happy with someone else, and so the past doesn't matter. Then again...maybe not.

I'm brave enough to find out.