"Our mistakes have brought us to grace." - Julia Baggott
Today's horoscope said I would receive a great gift. Everywhere I've looked, I have found inspiration. From quotes about life, to writing that moves me to explore, to listening to others stories, to indulging my curiousity - there are lessons to be learned in it all. A reminder that gifts are not always material.
Monday, June 29, 2009
More moments
1. It gets dark early now. A constant companion of emptiness. Every night I crawl into bed and try to not let it wash over me. The feeling and urge to be loved. To be held. To be noticed. But I am powerless. It can take my breath away. But it’s comforting. I am still here. I can still feel. And it hurts. I close my eyes on another day with a plea that it won't last. Oh, how I wish you would call.
2. This time things progress at a normal pace, instead of awkward and rushed like before. But there’s still no romance. I enjoy being around him. I feel like I can be myself, or at least that’s the Hallmark answer I’m trying to convince my head of. I don’t have to be someone I’m not. I say dumb things and don’t care. I watch him eat the dinner I made, and I smile. He laughs and asks what? Afterwards, we lie there and talk. Like us, the conversation is stripped and bare. I can hear the traffic outside. He finally looks at me. I want to tell him that he should leave, but I don’t because he already knows. After he leaves the room smells of longing and peaches.
3. We both wake up foggy and hungover. I ask for some water and you get up to get me some. You take a sip before handing me the glass. You lay back down in the bed with me, and put your head on my belly. We sit there quietly for a few minutes. I run my fingers through your hair. You look up and tell me that I am so pretty. In that one moment, everything that was once broken in my life is fixed. I don’t tell you that this is what I am thinking about when you ask me seven months later. In fact, I never answer your question instead I just smile. I realize I have never been happier. I immediately fear losing that feeling forever. “Just Like Heaven” is playing on the car radio. Now, I wish I had told you what I was really thinking.
4. We stumble home from another raucous night out. We turn the key to the apartment and walk in. I’m giggling about nothing in particular. We don’t turn on the lights. We just sit in the kitchen and eat ice cream. Suddenly, you begin pouring out your emotions to me. You’re crying. I want to rush to you, and hold you to tell you everything will be okay. Like you have done for me so many times before. The lights from outside are reflecting off the pool causing big waves of pale blue light to dance across the ceiling. You have never looked more beautiful, or more real. I go to and wrap my arms around you. Cradle your face in my hands. You go tense. I know this has made you feel weak. You will never let me see you weak. You will never let me in. You pull away from me and angrily swipe your tears away, and tell me you’re being stupid. You go fall asleep on the couch. I have never felt more apart from you.
2. This time things progress at a normal pace, instead of awkward and rushed like before. But there’s still no romance. I enjoy being around him. I feel like I can be myself, or at least that’s the Hallmark answer I’m trying to convince my head of. I don’t have to be someone I’m not. I say dumb things and don’t care. I watch him eat the dinner I made, and I smile. He laughs and asks what? Afterwards, we lie there and talk. Like us, the conversation is stripped and bare. I can hear the traffic outside. He finally looks at me. I want to tell him that he should leave, but I don’t because he already knows. After he leaves the room smells of longing and peaches.
3. We both wake up foggy and hungover. I ask for some water and you get up to get me some. You take a sip before handing me the glass. You lay back down in the bed with me, and put your head on my belly. We sit there quietly for a few minutes. I run my fingers through your hair. You look up and tell me that I am so pretty. In that one moment, everything that was once broken in my life is fixed. I don’t tell you that this is what I am thinking about when you ask me seven months later. In fact, I never answer your question instead I just smile. I realize I have never been happier. I immediately fear losing that feeling forever. “Just Like Heaven” is playing on the car radio. Now, I wish I had told you what I was really thinking.
4. We stumble home from another raucous night out. We turn the key to the apartment and walk in. I’m giggling about nothing in particular. We don’t turn on the lights. We just sit in the kitchen and eat ice cream. Suddenly, you begin pouring out your emotions to me. You’re crying. I want to rush to you, and hold you to tell you everything will be okay. Like you have done for me so many times before. The lights from outside are reflecting off the pool causing big waves of pale blue light to dance across the ceiling. You have never looked more beautiful, or more real. I go to and wrap my arms around you. Cradle your face in my hands. You go tense. I know this has made you feel weak. You will never let me see you weak. You will never let me in. You pull away from me and angrily swipe your tears away, and tell me you’re being stupid. You go fall asleep on the couch. I have never felt more apart from you.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Moments
Just little moments that run through my head.
1. I am on the back of your motorcycle. I don’t have a helmet on, and all I can think is my mom will kill me if she finds out. I don’t remember what kind of motorcycle it was, but knowing you it was probably the top of the line. The bike is loud. I can feel the rumble between us. I’m holding on for dear life. Exhilarated. Scared. It’s a warm spring night. As we ride, the wind blows my hair into my face. It stings my eyes, but I don’t want to let go of you to fix it. We pull up to a stoplight and you grab my hand and kiss it very gently. I bury my face in your back so you can’t see the goofy smile you’ve spread across my face. It feels like a movie. Later when I go to hop off your bike the exhaust pipe bumps against my leg. It leaves a nasty burn. You do nothing to help ease the pain. Roll credits.
2. There's something strange about waking up with another person in your bed. Hogging what should be your side. Soft morning snores punctuating the silence. There's something protective in the way a strong arm flops over, and pulls you towards them. So close that you can feel the warmth of their breath on your neck. Two bodies sharing an embrace, faced away from the world outside. Each wanting different things. Each willing to give up a piece of themselves to get it. It’s palpable. It surrounds me. I have no choice but to surrender to it.
3. Whiskey makes me think of you. I love the smell, the taste, the way it sits warmly in my belly. It always reminds me of home. The home you and I made. When I hear ice cubes clinking on the side of a glass, I am reminded of our laughter. Those were the fun times. I have switched brands of whiskey.
1. I am on the back of your motorcycle. I don’t have a helmet on, and all I can think is my mom will kill me if she finds out. I don’t remember what kind of motorcycle it was, but knowing you it was probably the top of the line. The bike is loud. I can feel the rumble between us. I’m holding on for dear life. Exhilarated. Scared. It’s a warm spring night. As we ride, the wind blows my hair into my face. It stings my eyes, but I don’t want to let go of you to fix it. We pull up to a stoplight and you grab my hand and kiss it very gently. I bury my face in your back so you can’t see the goofy smile you’ve spread across my face. It feels like a movie. Later when I go to hop off your bike the exhaust pipe bumps against my leg. It leaves a nasty burn. You do nothing to help ease the pain. Roll credits.
2. There's something strange about waking up with another person in your bed. Hogging what should be your side. Soft morning snores punctuating the silence. There's something protective in the way a strong arm flops over, and pulls you towards them. So close that you can feel the warmth of their breath on your neck. Two bodies sharing an embrace, faced away from the world outside. Each wanting different things. Each willing to give up a piece of themselves to get it. It’s palpable. It surrounds me. I have no choice but to surrender to it.
3. Whiskey makes me think of you. I love the smell, the taste, the way it sits warmly in my belly. It always reminds me of home. The home you and I made. When I hear ice cubes clinking on the side of a glass, I am reminded of our laughter. Those were the fun times. I have switched brands of whiskey.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Just like like Ah-nold said, I'll be back.
Dear Anonymous,
Often when someone signs a comment “anonymous” there’s a reason. Usually, they want to tell you something bad like “hey, your feet stink and you’ve had spinach in your teeth for the last hour.” Rarely, is it good. You’ve proven the exception.
Words are powerful. Words can heal. I thank you for yours because you have inspired me to start writing again.
So Anonymous, keep checking in. And keep inspiring those around you. Those that need it truly thank you.
Sincerely,
Tweets
Often when someone signs a comment “anonymous” there’s a reason. Usually, they want to tell you something bad like “hey, your feet stink and you’ve had spinach in your teeth for the last hour.” Rarely, is it good. You’ve proven the exception.
Words are powerful. Words can heal. I thank you for yours because you have inspired me to start writing again.
So Anonymous, keep checking in. And keep inspiring those around you. Those that need it truly thank you.
Sincerely,
Tweets
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