Continuing On
Now Playing: Training Day

I'm not sure when it happened, or even where, but at some point I gave up on this... whatever this is.  I gave up on giving my words to this world, and I set out to only ever give them life on actual paper.  Smelling that paper was intoxicating, and the hint of ink in the air was refereshing.  It was harder, and yet easier all at the same time.  Then one day, it just wasn't enough anymore.  I needed something, but I didn't need this anymore, and so a new blog was born.  At the time I didn't think anyone had even read this, but then I checked my email the other day and found a reply to a post that dated back at least 5 years.  To see that I had impacted the world, that I am impacting the world still with these words made me realize that I was wrong to abandon this.  And so I'd like to invite whoever happens upon this to keep up with the future me, the me that this girl somehow grew in to.  I'm not saying this me is better, or that I've somehow figured out life in my absence.  Actually, the exact opposite may be true.  All I know is that I have more to say.

To hear more from me please visit:

 

http://j-l-foreveruntitled.blogspot.com/

where do we go when the buzz goes home
Now Playing: Does he love you by Reba... appropriate yes?

The world goes in circles and when you're drinking it just seems to go faster and faster until you just want to throw up.  Throw up the person you used to be and the mistakes you've made.  It was never obvious when I was going to wake up from this, but apparently it was today.  I was never in love as a teenager.  I never fell in love with a boy taht would have nothing to do with me.  It's crazy how the thought just crosses your path and smacks you in face right when you think it will never happen.  It's the day you finally say " well you know what, he wasnt that boy i thought he was, he didn't love me like it though or treat me like i deserved"  he wasn't there when i needed him the most, even tho when i needed him he was there that most.  it was fake.  and yet here we are. 3, 4, 5 years down the road i hit the point of no going back.  I'm in love so deeply i couldn't pull myself out if i tried.  I'm crying as i type this just so you know.  i love him. i love the man he has become. i love the song that just came on in memory of the man sleeping a room, a foot away.  I love him, with everything i have and everything i am.  He is everything i have never known that i wanted.  he's smart and cocky and sometimes he's a fucking asshole but i know how to tell him to stop.  i know just how to cry to make him melt.  He's amazing.  He listens.  And best of all he doesn't go running to that girl that i know still wants him back.  He is free of strings, of the puppeteers will.  He is his own man and i desire that.  I want the man that knows everything on his own.  I want to feel his breath his... warmth.  And i will do exactly that because for once i realize that life is better than this paper, this impersonal means of getting the truth out on misguided and mispelled demeanor.  Love you all... love the bud light more than life haha

J_L+R

Mood:  not sure
Now Playing: silence, except for his breathing
Topic: life

My thoughts won't grace the computer screen any easier than they will paper.  What I am feeling isn't something that is easily passed on to an audience.  It's a sadness that is hard to describe without the look of pain and emptiness in the eye of its beholder.  It's hard to examine without a chart of all the wounds that have graced my heart in the last few years.  you get stabbed in the heart enough, it's bound to break.  There are stitches, sutures, and miracle cures found through the hands of honest lovers, but nothing touches the crack that's permeating to the center of me.  Nothing can erase this pain, this loss, this emptiness.  My father is gone, but he very well may be watching over me.  It's becoming more and more apparent that my views on life, and afterlife are slightly flawed.  what I wanted to believe and what I realized I actually took to be the truth were two seperate things.  I didn't believe in god.  I didn't believe in angels or ghosts.  and now i have reality staring me invisibly in the face.  i cannot see him.  but for once i believe he is there.  he loves me.  he watches me.  and it hurts like hell that he could be inches away and i can't sense him.  i can't hear him, or smell him, or see his silhouette.  It hurts deeper now.  I need to face something.  i can feel it.  heightened perception perhaps from my life of misery, or maybe simply just negative melodramatic thought.  i live for this.  i love for him.  is he proud?

living the life he never would have wanted,

J-L

running away without a step to take
Mood:  down
Now Playing: ?
Topic: love

May 15^th, 2007

5:30 pm

I must relate my experiences of the last few days in a flurry of disarray, and miscomprehension. Every thought has been slashed to pieces, every mind-numbing accusation has been muted to a single dull roar. My realizations of life are rather gray. My theories of the world are even more broken, than the broken days I’ve lived before. Love is not unending, it is forever. Love is not unchanging, though. Those are the two honest answers I have found in the field of lies I’m trying to sift through. Love is all consuming, and painful, and it never ends. It’s that sick sort of torture we like to bestow upon ourselves far more than we like to wish upon others. We like it, hell we love it. We feed off the feeble feelings, and we think ourselves to be invincible when we are knee deep in its aftermath. It’s the fakest fucking feeling in the entire world. It’s the biggest lie the human race has ever dreamt up. A lie that has engulfed us all so rapidly that the majority of us never find the falseness in it’s mysterious depths. I love David. I will love him until the day I die. The love is real. What I feel is the lie.

Love changes, it grows and grows until it hits that point where it can’t possible get any bigger or the fragile little bubble housing us both inside will burst. It hits that point and that is exactly where it stays. Frozen in time. Frozen in our hearts. Our hearts don’t listen though. We wait for the love to become more, to be more, to mean more. And when it doesn’t, it hurts so badly that we simply want to run. Run straight out of this safe little bubble and pop the lie we’ve been living since day one. We want to just keep going, keep running, until the pain wears off and we can be whole again. Whole…. And inevitably alone. So is this what I want? To be alone? Just the thought scares me to death.

I’ve dreamed of what my life would be since I was a little girl. I never knew what I wanted to be, but from the time Ken made his way into my Barbie’s world, I knew that’s what I wanted. I wanted a man worthy of my time. I wanted the prince from all my Disney movies, someone to sweep me off my feet and catch me each time I was about to fall. I wanted a man that would cherish me, and love me, and never be able to bear a second without me. I wanted every happy ending all those movies sold me. There would be heartbreak, I knew that. There would be sadness, and tears, and fights. I also knew that all of this would only bring us closer together. I knew that our hearts would only grow more dependent as the hard times took their toll. What I didn’t realize was that my life was no movie, I was no princess, and of all the men out there, not one of them was a prince. I also didn’t factor in human choice, and the variety that we have waiting beyond each step we take. Some from a thousand steps back, and some from a single step forward.

Where am I going with this, you know I’m not quite sure here. What I’m try to say is that love fucking changes. One day we grow up, and we realize that what we thought we wanted and what we really want are two separate things. Who we want, and who we thought we deserved from day one are not the same man. Our dreams are far more

complicated in the real grown up world than we were ever ready to realize when we watched those princes back in grade school. Life is harder than we were told to believe. There are roads, oh so many roads. There are consequences as well. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way. For every decision you make, every action you take, or decide to walk away from there is a consequence. There is a what-if and a could’ve-been years down the road that you will by no means be ready for.

And that love you were so sure of. That man that you are so set and ready to marry, will make a mistake. That love will be tested. And every what-if and could’ve-been will rear it’s ugly head. It will be when you least expect it. It will come out of nowhere and slap you in face, leave a sick sensation in your stomach, and make you call someone you haven’t spoken to in far too long. It is in these moments when you find out who you really are. It is in those seconds, or minutes, or hours that you are lying in bed trying your hardest to sleep but can’t get the voices of years past out of your head, that you will find out who you are. You will know if your love is strong enough. You will know if it’s time to pack your bags and walk away.

The decision will be made, you might even get halfway out the door. You will look back, at him, and wonder how life go so fucked up so fast, and you will go running back to him. You will see that glimmer in his eye that made you make the biggest mistake of your life in the first place. And nothing else will matter. Not the lies. Not the pain. Not even the boy you think you could have loved somewhere else, in some other time. This love. This life, will mean more to you than anything in the entire world. I know the feeling. The feeling where all you want to do is walk away, maybe just to see if you can stand without him. If you can laugh without him, and cry less. I know what it’s like to want nothing more than to escape the life you are living and hope to god that you don’t ever have to come back.

What I know even better is the truth. Love is an ever-changing illusion. Happiness is too. And his, meant more to me in those 2.3 seconds that I thought I would be okay walking away than anything else. His eyes were bluer. His smile was sadder. His hair was sticking up in just the right, wrong way. I fell in love all over again. I fell for his realness this time. Not the fronts, or the sarcasm, or the hero I thought he could be. I fell for him. All my movie endings faded away, and I was left standing with simply tomorrow, and maybe the next day, and maybe even possibly the one after that. I was left with him. And all his mistakes, and all his lies. But I was okay. For one more day. And for once, that was enough.

Loving the lies, and the illusions, but hating my stupid self.

6:01pm

Winding, winding... bring me home
Mood:  down
Now Playing: ?
Topic: life

05/08/07

11:44 pm

Every road is winding. Every window is cracked. Every path I seem to take, doesn’t ever lead me back. I’m disoriented, disillusioned, and entirely disguised. No one knows me, no one sees me, and unfortunately no one tries. I’m confused, and falling apart at such a speed that I’ve lost myself before I even knew the pieces were out of place. I’m a puzzle, without the edges. The song with a tune that’s not quite right. Everyone can tell, but by some grace of god, no one cares enough to listen. The world is strange in this light. Off kilter, and desolate. I don’t know where I stand, if I’m even standing. Those who were witnesses to my destruction, have wandered off. Those that loved me, continue to love me in the eternal sense, but still not the everyday. Love’s an odd concept here anyway. It’s sarcastic almost, on the edge of being serious, but not quite. We all feel it, we all make fun of it, but it’s not quite real to us either. It’s an inside joke, the very core of every reason that any of us have ever been broken in the first place. Love, the double bladed sword. Friendship, the dagger to the heart. Each inflicting a wound that will heal, scab, but never go away. Old flames will not be stifled. Old friends won’t stop grabbing the attention of my nerves. I’m been broken. I’m still breaking. And those that cracked me to begin with haven’t even noticed their impact on my life. That’s what hurts the most, I think, when so many can walk away without a thought. When so-called family can forget you. The wounds are all there. And if my father could see us all today he’d shake his head in remorse. We’ve fallen apart without him, let ourselves be spread across the country, soon to be across the world, without a second thought. We are here, we are there, but none of us are together. It’s strange sometimes to look back on mere years, and think it only minutes, or on the other extreme, think it to be centuries. I’ve lost all memory of him, most of it anyway. His smell has been lost with the smell of the one I love. His laugh has been caught in the winds of time. And his voice, his voice was silenced a single month after his passing. I fear he has disappeared from this world entirely, his mark never making it past his forever tainted eldest child. I remember him, everything he stood for, but nothing he actually was. He loved country music, but I’ve forgotten the tune he used to always hum. He was a fantastic cook, but his recipes were lost in his jumbled memory those last few years. He was… my father. He was normal. He was also broken. So maybe that’s what’s living on in me. His brokenness. His inability to be complete. Always searching, always failing, always wondering what else this world has to offer. He wasn’t fantastic, he didn’t change the world. He wasn’t a saint by any means. But he was a good father. He loved me. And the thing that hurts the worst is that in my times of trouble, I can’t call on him. On the days when nothing in the world makes sense he can’t tell me to shut the hell up and keep going. He’s not here to tell me to stop being a fucking little girl and just grow up. He’s not here to look me in the eye and tell me that I can be better, that there are better things in the world than misery. And I have a feeling that his voice is the only one my heart and soul answer to. Tell me, where the hell am I supposed to go when no one else’s words matter, and his are gone?

Forever listening for the words of wisdom that were caught on his last breath.

12:05 am

Today's fears, tomorrow's repercussions

05/01/07

12:00am

A new day dawns, with an old heartache. A new month begins, with the same distance that engulfed me the month before. A distance, not measurable my centimeters, inches, feet, or even miles. This distance I speak of is metaphorical, psychological, in all accounts, not distance, just merely difference. This is a distance from me, from who I really am, and who I’ve become as each monotonous day has dulled me. Who am I, if I am not who I thought myself to be before? And when exactly is before? Before what? I can’t remember a day that marked this change, I can’t pinpoint a minute, or even a second in time where I lost myself. It happened suddenly, and yet so slowly. I am not who I always was, nor am I the person I am meant to be. I’m stuck in the in-between. I’m striving to be this person, this professional, this adult. I’m being forced by society to fulfill this role, that I’m still not sure I believe in. I find so many cracks in the ideas that I’m supposed to fulfill that I’m not sure that I want to be that person anymore. Go to high school, graduate, go to college, and start over. Why? Take the same classes every other psych major takes, and become a brilliant psychologist. A brilliantly normal, and by all accounts identical psychologist. We’re sheep fulfilling the criteria of the professional. I don’t want to be a fucking sheep. I have my own ideas about people. We don’t all fit into this criteria we’re forced to judge sanity by. If I were to measure myself on the scale of mental illness, I doubt they’d allow me to pass my judgment on to others. A self-diagnosis I’ve revamped day by day as my symptoms worsen to the point of breaking. Dependent, fearful of rejection, introverted, highly distractible, unable to develop concrete goals…. In all reality, a completely normal, yet uniquely complicated college student still getting a handle on the world that is changing more and more everyday. I learn what I have to, I do what I’m told, and I turn around and the world is different. I went to grade school learning Pluto was a planet for Christ’s sakes, my child years from now will look at me like some moron when I tell them that. “Pluto isn’t a planet, mom, don’t be a dummy.” I can just hear it now. Professor’s spew data like it’s scientific proof of the world, but it’s not. Today’s facts, are tomorrow’s faux-pas moments. We have no idea what tomorrow holds, we can barely uncover the truths of today, or even a thousand years past. Dinosaurs were rendered extinct millions of years ago, and we have yet to uncover a single clue. People die of unknown causes every few minutes, and we don’t even bat an eyelash. The future will slap us in the face one of these days, and all we’ll be able to say is that the red mark that ensued resembled very closely a human hand of today. So where does this leave me? In between. All I have yet to figure is in between what? Will I be the perfect psychologist my degree is molding me into? Will I continue down this path, the path a thousand others have taken, and are taking with me? Or will I stray? Will I find who I really am? Some days I wonder if I even want to know who I am, who I was, or who I’m supposed to be. Life confuses me, death confuses me. Things were so easy in the beginning. Friends were plentiful, family was tight, life was sunny. Twenty years later I look back and wonder how to survive without all that. Without a father, or a best friend, or a proper family. I wonder if life matters without them. I wonder if anything will ever matter as much as things did back then. Everyday I search for my answer. Everyday I get a little more frustrated about the world, and myself. The lights dim, as day turns to night, and the thoughts intensify. The nights are the hardest.

Tonight is the worst. His arms are not around me, though they will be when my head hits that pillow. He loves me, with everything he is, and I know that. I am absolutely sure of his devotion to be with me for the rest of our lives. I tell him I wouldn’t but if he asked me this second to marry him, I wouldn’t hesitate. He would never leave me. And yet, I hear myself each time he tries to leave. I hear the crack in my voice as I choke back the tears, and I wonder what the hell is wrong with me. I try to quiet my fears, that he’s not going where he tells me he is, even though I have no doubt in my mind that that is exactly where he is. I’m just afraid, terrified by all accounts that I’m not enough. I never was enough. Everyone leaves, everyone made excuses, and everyone always told me they loved me. So how do I stop this? How do I believe that he’s not going to end up like all the rest of them? I bore them. I don’t do anything spectacular. I can do math at an unrealistically fast speed in my head, but there are geniuses that can do it better. I can write a well-developed paper for class in about an hour and get an A. I can study for 10 minutes and pass my final exam like I will tomorrow morning. I can read disgustingly fast, which allows me to always, always finish first, but only turn my paper in second, because I’m a little unsure of myself. I’m not special. I’m not different. I’m not who he thinks I am. That’s what scares me the most on these nights, that he’s finally realized I’m not that girl he has in his head anymore. I’m not that writer anymore, or that genius, or that fantastic cook. I burn toast, I can’t flip pancakes, I can’t form a coherent sentence half the time I try to write anymore. I’ve spelled 7 words wrong in the last 2 sentences I’ve tried to write. I’m falling apart. I’m disintegrating at a rate so fast that I might lose myself before I can tell him any of this. I’m just so fucking lost. I need my best friend, both of them. No matter how broken he is, or how busy and still somehow disappointed in me she is. I need them. I need a glimpse of what was in order to keep going towards what will be. I’m broken, and bleeding, and no one’s holding the wound anymore. No one is dealing with me anymore. No one cares. And it hurts more that I ever thought it would. Numbness is appealing in situations like today.

I hope that one day I can get over these ridiculous fears. That one day, or year, or month from now I can be okay. I hope it happens gradually, and shows up all of a sudden, just like how I got here. I hope this in between will disappear exactly as it came, without recognition. I do not want to remember these days. They are monotonous, tear filled, and hard to swallow. The one sadness that only strengthens when you try to drink it away. It tries to choke you, and drown you in everything you can’t be. This world is fucked up like that, it tries to kill you in the most ridiculous fashions. It tries to kill you on the inside, so the person on the outside dies as well. I won’t let that happen. I used to love who I was, what I stood for. I don’t stand for anything right now, I can barely stand on my own to be honest. I’m tired of it. I’m scared of it, and it’s going to change as soon as I can find a breath of reason.

So fuck the world’s ideas of what I should be, because tomorrow, they’ll only want me to be something different anyway

12:42 am

running away, or simply being run over?
Mood:  down
Now Playing: CMT videos
Topic: life

It's one of those days.  Not again, though, just still.  I'm stuck in this place where I don't know where to go and I don't know what to feel.  I don't even know if I can justly explain the emotions swirling inside my heart.  Maybe that's my problem.  My emotion has settled inside my heart, and my head can't make sense of it.  My heart and head are unattached, growing still, but separately.  My heart's growth seems to be stunted, a step behind everything my brain and body is telling it to do.  The step is more like a mile.  A milestone.  A moment in time, I can't get past.

If there's a song that describes this state of mind I can't place what it is, who sang it, or when I heard it.  I know it exists though.  There is a song that I want blast from my car radio driving down the highway without a destination.  There's a song out there that I know would tell me exactly where to go right now.  And I can't past the feeling that I just want to get away.  Anywhere but here, never seemed so true as in this moment.  Everytime I'm in my car driving, I have to stifle the feeling to just keep driving.  I've never been here before.  I've never needed to just escape everyone and everything.  And I'm not sure that it is that drastic.  Maybe I just need a break.  From life. 

 I just want to get in the car with my boyfriend and never stop driving until I end up somewhere and know exactly why I started driving in the first place.  There is a place, out there somewhere.  It's a place where I'll feel again.  It's a place where my heart can heal, and my head will finally clear.  It's out there.  I feel it.  It's humming in the back of my head, it's drawing me nearer to the edge everyday.  Do I jump?  Do I drive?

 That's the hardest part of the journey of life, knowing when to silence those feelings, and when to follow them wherever they may lead.  I think I just need to drop everything and not look back this time. 

 My biggest fear is that when I actually get to this place, when i follow my heart ignoring the consequences, that I'll end up in a land far darker and harder to navigate than the one I'm in now.  I'm afraid I'll get all my answers, and it's all the things I never wanted to hear.  I know what I'm searching for, and I know what I'm hoping for, but the truth is... no matter where I end up, he's not going to be there when I arrive.

He's not going to be standing on the edge of some nameless town, pointing to the reason I've been driving for hours, days, more precisely years.  He won't be driving next to us on the highway, no matter how broken down or how disgustingly maroon that Chevy truck is.  That long haired man with the ballcap and  flannel shirt on isn't him.  And it won't be his driveway we break down in.  Because someone else is driving his faithful truck with his smell still embedded in every inch of the interior.  Someone else is sleeping in his bed.  Someone else parks in his driveway.  Someone else's kids curl up in those bedrooms.  I know where he isn't.  And as much as I don't want to admit it, I know where he is as well.

 It's cold there, and dark, and bottomless.  And the fact that it slices a dagger through my heart to enter a world where this place is a reality, isn't fair.  If memories could kill, I would be in critical condition.

 Does he know?  Can he see?  is it his voice in my head urging me to just drive?  and if it is, what is he trying to tell me find?  I can't make myself believe that it's him.  but i can't turn the thoughts off.  My brain won't stop.

 I can't sleep anymore.  he's everywhere.  he's everything.  He's every reason I ever ration.  he's overtaking, and it hurts.  it just hurts.  which makes me want to run.  That used to be my answer to everything, just run away, leave it all behind.  Don't even pack a bag, just go, and when you get there you'll know.  You can build your life back together, and everything will be okay, but for some reason I can't even make myself believe that.  Everything will not be okay, ever.  I cant save myself

 but i can run...

 

...someone catch me,

Jenny Leigh

My Face of Darkness
Mood:  down
Now Playing: ?
Topic: life

02/01/07

 

Middle of the road,

center of the highway,

waiting for traffic to come

and sweep my worries away.

 

Ventilators are far easier

than trying to find reasons for every breath.

In, out, in, out, in,

hold it until you burst.

Brighten the walls if not the world.

 

Some say I’m depressive,

I prefer antagonistic.

Try to outdo me.

I dare you to loathe the world

as much as I wish I could love it.

 

We’re opposites, attracting,

and it’s about time you realized

We’ll lose interest before

We ever figure all this out.

 

Broken, blistered,

healed, and tainted.

But still wishing on the stars

that have already burned out.

 

Ever notice the ones that burn the brightest

are the first to fade away?

I was bright once too,

that’s what they’ll say.

 

What they won’t tell you,

is how I got here.

You’ll learn though.

This road, it’s contagious,

and you may not know it yet,

but you’re only a few twists and turns away.

 

Life’s ironic like that,

you just have to learn to laugh.

Laugh at the heartaches,

the losses, the pain,

and maybe someday it’ll give up.

 

Life gave up on me a long time ago,

I have a slight case of ignorance

So this is me holding on,

this is me not letting go.

 

This is me in the truest, barest,

most disgustingly honest hues.

The truth may be ugly,

but from far away I look beautiful.

 

The scars are minute,

the darkness shadows all truth,

and you’d come running

if you ever saw the paths I took.

 

They’re beautiful, and dangerous,

and in the end you’ll see

why your darkest moments,

Are equally as enlightening.

 

If you can look in the mirror

and accept your face of darkness,

I applaud you.

I can barely manage to glance at mine.

I'm the splenda in your sickeningly sugar-coated world
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: ?
Topic: life

January 31, 2007

1:19 am

Who am I to assume that my fucked up existence even matters in this world? Who am I to judge what will one day prove to be important? I’m nobody… but in the same respect I am somebody. I am a blip on the radar, a face in the crowd, but I’m different. I feel this fact every single day. I don’t fit in, and I used to hate that fact, now it’s simply there. I don’t know why, but I think it was supposed to be this way. I was supposed to be different, not better, simply different. It’s kind of like sugar and splenda. I’m the splenda, but even though I’m “healthy”, someday they’ll discover that I’m only slowly killing you. I wish my mind would work. This life is getting me closer and closer to the nowhere I’m destined to end up in. Middle of the road, center of the highway, waiting for traffic to come and sweep my worries away. Ventilators are far easier than trying to find reasons for every breath. In, out, in, out, in… hold it until you burst. Brighten the walls if not the world. Some say I’m depressive, I prefer antagonistic. I’m out to show the world that they’re happier than at least one billionth of the population. Try to outdo me, I dare you to loathe the world as much as I wish I could love it. We’re opposites, attracting, and it’s about time you realized we’ll never figure all this out. Broken, blistered, healed, and tainted. But still wishing on the stars that have already burned out. Ever notice the ones that burn the brightest are the first to fade away? I was bright once too… that’s what they’ll say. I was full of life, and reason, and goals. What they won’t tell you is how I got here. You’ll learn though. This road, it’s contagious, and you may not know it yet, but you’re only a few twists and turns away. Life’s ironic like that, you just have to learn to laugh. Laugh at the heartaches, the losses, the pain, and maybe someday it’ll give up. Life gave up on me a long time ago, too bad I’m more stubborn than anyone realized. This is me holding on, this is me not letting go. This is me in the truest, barest, most disgustingly honest hues. The truth is ugly, but from far away I look beautiful. The scars are minute, the darkness shadows all truth, and you’ll come running if you ever see the paths I mistakenly took. They’re beautiful, and dangerous, and in the end you’ll see why your darkest moments show you who you truly are. If you can look in the mirror and accept your face of darkness, I applaud you. I can barely manage to glance at mine.

Starting over, or just starting in?

11/29/06

5:05 pm

I’m starting off on a new piece of paper so I can wipe clean the memories of yesterday, so I can forget the girl I was, and become the girl that I am, or maybe have always been. I’m never true in these pages, that aren’t even pages, just simply dots and dashes combined to create a much faster, but less true version of my thoughts. Where we end up is somewhere between reality and sadness, but somehow still a step above where we really are. It’s like the words are bleeding so fast that I’m losing my head before the contents have been spilled. It doesn’t even hurt sometimes. It doesn’t sting, or swell, require any stitches, but it sure as hell kills you inside. It kills those places that weren’t so black, dyes them the wrong shade because of misguided intentions and fast-paced decisions. This world is broken, and I have only words bleeding forth much faster than they ever should, the words spewing forth from my mouth tangling and snagging on the shards of a relationship that I’m, for the first time unsure of. How does life take you down such roads? Or is it I that am leading myself to tears?

I also wonder when such talent becomes a bad thing. I’m praised for my mind daily, never on the inside but showered with almost bitter compliments from all those around me. You’re so smart, you’re so reliable, you’re so… different from the rest of us. But am I? I’m the same stupid little girl that wanted happy endings, the same girl that waited 18 years for a man worthy enough to sweep her off her feet. But he’s dropping me, and I wonder if I won’t get carried off beneath the wheels of the carriage that by now should have already turned back into the pumpkin. My dreams are crushing me, or will.

It took me years to steer myself in one direction, and now that I’m a year and half down the path towards something I might really want, it’s killing everything that I thought I would have forever. My goal, to cure the world of it’s misguided intentions of saving itself through means that would never get them to the place they dreamed of. I want to end suicidal behavior, drinking binges, and victims allowing their own abuses. I want to end misguided lives, to cure people of their stupidities almost, but I can’t even see my own. I can’t get past my own, because the ability that enables me to read others, is the same one that keeps me blind from seeing it in myself. I hurt myself every single day. I kill myself inside each day a little more by never being honest, never speaking up, never acknowledging what is happening to me, around me, because of me. It’s always circles, it always was, and I’ll circle back to tell you that it’ll never change.

I am broken, and I do all that is in my power to keep myself that way. I lost a father so drastically that I’ll never recover. It was slow, heartbreaking, and destroyed every chance I had to have a normal relationship in the future. I will always hold on too tight, react too soon, and close up inside every thought that may damage it until I can hold it in no more. That release in the end is wonderful, it’s all out there, and real, like the girl I used to be, but at the same time it’s too much, too soon, too unchecked. I let my brain shutdown for 30 seconds and let it all out, and that’s just it. It’s not me, and it’s definitely not the girl that he fell in love with.

I am a disappointment through and through. I don’t know how to keep a relationship going to save my life, and I may never know. I probably won’t, because the minute that this one ends, as much as I dread the thought that it’s even possible, it will all be over for me. I will prove myself right. Because love doesn’t break the boundaries that so many people believe it does. Love cracks at despair, loss, and change. We can’t control love any easier than we can capture it. It’s alluring, and speaks false promises of a future we’ll never see. It hurts people, and leaves them empty. Maybe in the end we will see that love is what doomed us from the beginning. Love is the real enemy. Love is the war.

But I’ll keep fighting. We’ll all keep fighting. Until there comes a day when the promises stop being whispered, when the twinkles in the eye stop grabbing our attention, when the wits and brains of the boys cease stopping time to show us it may be worth the five seconds to call out his name. The battle will rage on, engulfing generations old and new. It will never end, because love promises to be never-ending. Always and Forever, a contradiction of time and place, of reality. But still my favorite lie.

May he never walk away, or give up on me. I’m still healing, as I see with my knowing eyes that he is too. We’re trying to heal, but the answer lies in letting the other heal it. You must face what makes those tears build, not what sets them finally free.

I don’t really believe in love anymore. When I was little I thought it would cure the world, but after growing out of my naïve self, I see that it is the virus. We let it spread until we can’t handle it anymore. Love can’t be all you are, and I think that’s the biggest problem I’m having. I need for love to be everything in my life, and I need for it to never go away. But that’s a silly childish dream that I need to overcome. I need to grow up, if only in that small sense.

So here’s to loving, in moderation. Here’s to living for me, instead of through him. Here’s to life not being so fucked up. And finally here’s to me, because maybe I deserve it.

Tip back the cup of misery, and take a swallow to set you free,

Jenny

Untitled Poem

October 31st

9:55 pm

The night shrouds my good intentions

With a blanket of navy lace

And my actions are somehow blurred

By the inevitability that it will slip away

I am muted

Fallen silent to the demons of my past

They are back

They are screaming

And I’ll never get away.

But I wonder what will happen

As morning breaks over the horizon

And the rain drives the faint of heart away

Will I be free of my past

Of my mistakes of tainted youth and misguided intentions

And the life I could’ve, would’ve, should’ve

But didn’t want so very long ago.

I wonder if it ever really fades

Because the tattoo burnt across my heart is darkening

It says liar, fake, deceiver

But it’s in a dialect only few recognize

The few that matter

The few that care

The few that branded it there

With the intention of never letting it go.

Their grasp is loosening

After years of holding on with all their might

The world’s spinning, spinning,

Turning over new leaves, new trees,

And even newer breeds of deception

So has my crime dulled with time

With repeated overshadowing of the lower

The lowest of the low

Situated far below me on the ranks of disillusionment

Can I be forgiven in a world of the unforgiving

Or can I be at least, possibly at most, forgotten

The pain will never dull

The screams will never mute

The scars will never fade.

But the guilt, that brick of blame

It can be shrouded by the navy lace

As it rests so peacefully in the night

Awaiting a new day, a new say,

A new version of life,

It teeters on the edge of slipping,

But will never fall, unless pushed.

growing up without falling down
Mood:  hug me
Now Playing: Alanis Morisette "Dear Matthew"

I wonder when I'm gonna finally want to grow up.  I'm 19 years old, a sophomore in college on my way to a degree in psychology.  I work at a job I hate, with people that are pretty much going nowhere in life.  I sleep, I party, and every now and then I fall farther in love with a boy that I can't possibly ever live without now.  Sounds normal doesn't it.  My life that is.  I don't know why I feel like I'm going nowhere right now, but I do.  I've lost a lot of friends to distance, and second thoughts.  I don't know who I am anymore.  I can't write, I can't form a thought, or justly represent it to the world.  Who am I if I am not my words?  It's not that I don't have anything to say, it's that I'm so goddamn tired of spewing the same twisted complaints.  I'm sick of whining about my love life and my false friendships and my loneliness.  When will there ever be more?  Is there more, to life, to a world so off kilter?

 So when do we grow out of it?  When do we decide to put pitty highschool dramatics behind us and lead a real adult life?  What does that even mean?

 fuck it this isn't making sense.

Untouchables

October 2^nd

9:04pm

The future is something that I can’t quite touch today. I want to reach out and grab it, feel it for bumps and bruises, see myself in that light. Will it be bright, broken, or devoid of all that matters? Will I wake up one of these days in the shoes of the girl that I will one day become? Will I always be this goddamn broken? It’s a failed attempt to question the fates that aren’t listening to my cries. I’m insignificant in the scheme of things, I will prove to be nothing more than my words on this paper. I will cease to be, and nothing will remain, nothing but this. This broken page bleeding an existence that didn’t ever say anything worth reading about. All these questions about love and life and purpose, no one cares. No one should, because they have their own. Everyone wonders if they’ll ever get to that grand place we all believe we’re destined for, that place that we believe we deserve, but what if we don’t? What if we were put here for punishment? Did we do something so long ago as a race that someone decided we needed to pay? Or is that just a human emotion, revenge, justice, peace of mind? I don’t understand where I’m going with this or where I may have already been. It’s all coming out in circles inside squares and I can’t find a corner in which to hide. We aren’t helpless, we’re lost. We aren’t broken, we’re hurting. We aren’t confused, we’re misrepresented. So what’s it all for? Is it worth it anymore? Can you get to a place where the hurt overtakes the possibilities of tomorrow? Tomorrow means nothing. Today means the world to me, but I’m not sure that the world means a goddamn thing anyway. Why do we continue to walk the paths we can’t ever get away from. They’re all the same, they’re all crooked and trapped, and dead-ended. We always end up in a place we don’t want to be. Always. And forever. Broken, but not forgotten. Forgotten, but not disillusioned. We know who we are, we know where we are and where we’ve been, but we don’t care. Tomorrow is what counts. That place we can never get to because it always turns into today and like I said today doesn’t mean a damn thing when we have tomorrow to worry about. Wishes disappear, desires fade away. Love may live on through death, depression, and disgust, but hate breaks boundaries love knows nothing of. Hate breeds a future full of darkness. I guess it’s only fitting that the streetlights burst at the thought. We are seeking the darkness we fear, we are going to a place we never wanted to ever experience. But somehow it’s too alluring to avoid. Truth blossoms in the dark, but lies, they tumble easier than your lifeless clothes onto the floor. You’re rolling around in the sheets of desire again, naked in every sense of the word. Does it feel good? Right? Justified because the lights don’t burn to tell your tale. I feel that too. In the dark I feel free. Freedom born on the wings of the owl that haunts the night. He doesn’t forget though, no one ever forgets. Our actions will follow us until the end of time. What does that say about you? Where will what you are doing tonight, in the dark, take you when you meet your maker? It will take you miles from that place you always assumed you’d make it to. There is no such thing as success or never-ending love. There is no such thing as making it. You will be mediocre for the rest of your life, or you will break yourself so badly on the way to the top that you fall. Flailing slightly trying your hardest to convince the gods that you deserve that pedestal. You’re feet aren’t pretty enough to be eye-level in this image driven society. Get some expensive shoes, paint them up pretty, they’ll never measure up. The mediocre will never lead the world. The world’s going to hell anyway, do you want to look responsible for the final showdown? Because you’ll lose. There are forces in this world that far surpass our own. We will not win, we will kill ourselves. Mass suicide at the hands of a society so driven on surviving that it surrendered its chance of ever succeeding.

Sometimes life hurts and I get away from where I thought I was. I scare myself at times, but I guess that’s expected. I don’t want to be so dark, so depressive, but it’s easier than anything right now. The words are bottled up so tight they might just uncork this bottle, but I’m holding it too tight, trying to guzzle the contents into nothingness. I have no words for you, not anymore. I have no thoughts, not today. Because today doesn’t matter, and tomorrow will never come. Yesterday is all I have, and it’s lost in the tears I’ve cried trying to get it back. If you were ready for the truth I don’t think I could manage to drag it from the trenches of disillusionment. It’s scary, and it hurts far more than any words ever could. My words are all I have, bleeding much more profusely than the cuts I refuse to put in my wrists.

I always wanted to tattoo my thoughts of the world on my wrist, something in words, something particular and somehow astonishing. The only thing I can seem to think of is forever. Not because I believe in it, but because that’s what I think about life. It’s bullshit, we’ll never get it. Call me pessimistic, my dictionary lost that page anyway. I couldn’t stand the look of the word permanent, so I destroyed it.

Take a word of advice from a veteran of misery, don’t listen to a word I have to say.

Shut me up but don’t shut me down,

Jenny

9:32 pm

Unhappiness in a Bottle

June 1^st, 2006

1:20 am

The beginning is always the hardest part of anything to write, for me anyway. I always have trouble getting where I’m going, but I always know where I want to end up, so I’m gonna start there. I’m sick and tired of being unhappy. I want to reach that place where everything is going to be okay again. I thought I was there. I thought that I was finally on track, but I’m so far away that I can’t even see the train heading straight for me. I don’t know if I’m crazy, or just horrendously unlucky. I keep getting dealt the hard hand, or maybe I redeal until I get it, I’m not sure. Maybe I want to end up here. In this place where things aren’t okay anymore. Sometimes I really wonder. It’s a draw, I guess. I can either be in this place, willing and able to write every care, fear, and sadness that I can convey, or I can be on the other side of the spectrum. I can be happy, or so close that it doesn’t matter if I’m really there, and I miss my ability to convey how I feel. When I’m in this place I can get it all down on paper, one way or another, but when I’m not it’s just there, and no matter how long I try I can’t show the world how it feels. Because happiness is not something you can write about. You can’t write about being content, whole, in love. Because there aren’t words for that. There are similes, but none quite compare. None will ever come close. So ya, maybe I like the darkness. Maybe I stray to it every time my life starts to get boring. Maybe that’s my disease. What’s my cure?

Some say love can cure you of anything. I was one of those people. I thought that love could move mountains. I was wrong. There are boundaries in even love. There are limits, things that just cannot happen. And that realization really hurt. It hurt knowing that even if you are drowning in love, sometimes it can’t save you. I’m not sure how to even explain what’s going through my head right now. I’m thinking about this too much, that’s what he’d say. He’d say that things will eventually be okay if I just give him his space and his time. What he doesn’t know is that my entire world has been tipped upside down and turned inside out. I don’t know how to function in this backwards place. I don’t know how to be in love anymore, because the way I thought love is isn’t in any way close to the way it really is.

I thought love would save me. I thought that once I fell in love all those holes and all those pains would eventually go away. I thought I’d be whole again with the man of my dreams by my side, but suddenly I’m not enough. He needs his time to enjoy himself away from me, to grow away from me. But what happens when we grow up separately for so long, will we eventually turn into people that aren’t in love anymore? Will we one day look into the other’s eyes and not see the fire, or spark that was there for so long before? I’m just afraid that he’s gonna grow up one day and realize how great he is. He’s gonna realize that he’s an amazing guy, and he’s gonna see that I’m not such an amazing girl. I’m really fucked up. We both know that. And maybe after revealing my whole fucked up self by taking him to the graveyard to meet my dad, he sees that the hole is too deep. He can’t fill it, so he doesn’t want to try anymore.

That’s ridiculous probably. Ridiculous to think that I scared him away after all the times we’ve talked about my father and all the ways that it’s influenced my life. But I wanted him to meet him. That sounds crazy, but I needed to take him there. I needed him to see the final remnants of the man that took the happiness out of my eyes when he left this world. I needed him to see the physical proof of why and how much I was fucked up all those years ago. And I think I scared him a little. He wasn’t ready to be that kind of strong for me. Holding me at night when I have nightmares is one thing, but holding me as I’m sobbing next to my father’s grave is another. I think I thought too much of our relationship.

I wanted it to be perfect, complete, and all-consuming. Because that’s what he is to me. He’s my rock, my best friend, my boyfriend, my true love, my… everything. He’s the one I go to when I’m feeling frustrated, annoyed, alone, hurt, stressed, or even inexplicably happy. He is enough for me. He makes me comfortable. For the first time I can be myself. I can say every stupid blonde thing in front of him and not feel stupid for one second. I can bumble around and get confused when we’re having sex, I can laugh too. I can write in front of him and let him read it. I can do ANYTHING and everything in his presence, I’m that comfortable, but he’s not. And that hurts no matter how normal it is. Why am I suddenly not enough, or really… too much?

I’m thinking about this too much, but lately I feel like I need to hang on really tight. Like I’m gonna lose him at any second. I don’t know why. I’m not psychic or even pretending to think that I am, but for some odd reason I feel like one of these days I’m gonna wake up and he’s not gonna be there, and that scares the shit out of me. I’m not sure what I would do. I can’t lose him. Not now. Not ever.

I wanna grow old with him and have kids, grandkids and eventually great-grandkids. I want to laugh together when we can’t shower ourselves anymore. I want to cook him dinner before he gets home from work every night. I want to live with him in the perfect brick house we always talk about. 3 kids. I want girls, he wants boys, but that’ll work itself out. I want to get a puppy. I want to get a fish, and a cat, and a frog. I want to decorate the house together, and help out with all our chores. I want to walk down the aisle with him waiting, hot as hell in his tuxedo to say I do. I want to write an amazing wedding speech, but chicken out and only read it to him when we’re alone. I want to slow dance with him to our song, if we ever have one. But what if he gets stolen from me? It’s almost as if he’s slowly distancing himself so that when he’s gone for good it’s not such a surprise. I don’t want to lose him, I can’t.

I want him to hold me right now as I start to cry. I want him to walk through that door and tell me that everything is alright and that he’s never going to leave and that I’m exactly the girl that he wants, and will always want. I want him to kiss me softly and show me that he’s not just saying that to silence my tears. I need all that. I need it to be like it used to be, him and me, and no one else. But it’s not. It’s all these other people, and not a single one matters to me but him. I wish he’d wake up and realize that I’m the only one he needs too. But am I? Will I always be?

It’s paralyzing to have to wonder if you’re enough. To wonder if it’ll always be me in his dreams, or if one day there just might be another. He’s the only one I’ll ever yearn for. He’s the only one I’ll ever truly love.

I know sometimes he doubts that fact, thinks that TJ got there first. He never did. I didn’t love TJ. I fell in love with the idea of him more than anything. I wanted to love him, but it was an odd sort of love. The kind that you know is doomed from the beginning. I always had to second guess myself with him, still even today I have to second guess our friendship. He was never enough for me. David’s a different story. He has been since day one. He wanted me, he loved me, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. He put me first, and maybe that’s selfish to want that, but it felt great to be cared for. It feels great. I’m in love, and it hurts a lot of the time recently but I’m still in love. I’d do anything for his kiss, his touch, his smell even. That screams first love, so nothing before this matters, nothing. Even with TJ around, it doesn’t show me what I’m missing out on, it shows me what I wasted my time on. I wasted four years being wrapped up in this kid that’s still as fucked up today as he was then. He’s going nowhere. I needed to wait those four years though, in order for david to come around. I needed to be unattached and wanting when he was ready to knock on my door.

That’s the funny thing about love and timing. It’s always perfect. So maybe I just need to wait. Wait for the moment when everything turns out just the way I wanted it to. It won’t be today, or even tomorrow, but maybe the next day. It still hurts though. I miss him holding me, and hearing his breathing as I go to sleep. I miss having him there when I wake up. Maybe he does too. Maybe it’ll all be okay.

I love you David Jon-Michael Worrell. Don’t ever question that.

Love battered and broken, but still somehow standing,

Jenny

1:51 am

teenage love, and the lack there of
Mood:  crushed out
Now Playing: bittersweet silence
Topic: love
I never considered the kind of love that I'm experiencing to be either juvenile, or fleeting. I never saw it as so-called "teenage love" or "highschool romance" because in my mind it was never anything close to that. It was something to joke or play with... ever. It was something that him and I both knew was going to be forever, or for at least such a large amount of time that it replicated the meaning of forever. We spent our days playing out the scenes of romeo and juliet. except we didn't die. and our families never fought. okay not so much romeo and juliet, I guess but you get the idea. We were meant to be. destined. and i believed that. believED. funny how one silly argument changes that. how suddenly your entire world is off kilter and you are forced to question everything you stand for. everything you've fought for. everything you've lost. we'd never fought before this, nothing huge anyway. we'd make up, kiss, and hold eachother before bed. that didn't happen this time. it has yet to happen. so i have to question what we're doing here. is it really just young love? is it the relationship that will eventually get left behind because we've grown so far past it? i hope to god i'm wrong. i hope to god we can overcome this because i don't know how to live without him. i don't want to. but at the same time i dont want to hurt anymore. i don't want to keep getting thrown full force into this depression, but here i am, chin deep and choking. i'm drowning again. who'll save me if he doesnt want to be around anymore.

this wouldn't hurt so much if i didnt have to question our future. but those 3 children, two girls one boy, are fading fast. the house is changing shape, disappearing. there isn't a chocolate lab, or a white picket fence. we're not together. we're not happy. i haven't lived past us either. i'm dead, and buried without him, i wish he'd see that.

i can't lose him.

i can't live without him.

i can't breathe.

my heart would burst if it hadn't already broken.

lovesick in the dieing sort of way,
Jenny

Final Destination Depression
Mood:  down

May 21, 2006

12:21 am

The doors are all locked and shut tight, the covers drawn, and lights down. The music’s softly playing in the background, but no matter what happens I can’t settle my mind on this particular night. Not that there’s anything outstanding about it really, the same thing has happened on countless other nights. To be honest, the same thing happens every night. I’m never completely settled, the feeling is just magnified because I don’t have those strong protective arms surrounding me, or the calming sound of his breathing. I don’t have his warmth, or his calming presence, and it kind of hurts. It brings the demons in a little deeper knowing that he isn’t there to ward them away. At the same time though, I know that I need this. I need this time to reflect because night after night I’ve been thinking these exact same thoughts. These exact same problems keep wreaking havoc on my mind and on my concentration. They are consuming me as surely as they are completely strange and unknown to me. I mean, I don’t know why I’m thinking the way that I am lately. It’s weird. I’m resigned to that fact though, I know that I’m eccentric, a little out of the ordinary tonight, and it’s okay, because I’m here alone with my thoughts. The music has been silenced, the dryer is filling the void. I can still hear it though, still hear the sounds of the soft singing, if only in my head. It makes me wonder, crazily if maybe I’m hearing it in another somewhere. That probably doesn’t make sense to you, and that’s okay. I’ll explain, just give me time to process what I’m feeling. I think somehow it’s profound, maybe it explains more about me than I ever deemed worthy of figuring out. Final Destination is my favorite movie of all time. Not because of the hot actors sitting center stage in it, but because of a single scene. A scene, that in it’s entirety didn’t change or warp the movie in any way, it didn’t move the plot along, or explain anything that you couldn’t have otherwise figured out. It was just there, waiting to pull me in. I can hear the words in my head of that scene. I think somewhere deep down I know it by heart. Devon Sawa’s character looks at clear and asks her if she thinks that somewhere out there their flight was still flying to Europe, if maybe in some alternate timeline they had made it safely there. He wonders that if this tragedy took place in his time, if maybe somewhere else happier it didn’t. She in return says sure I wish there was that place, a place where her father hadn’t needed cigarettes and had stayed home the night that he left and got killed, a place where her mother didn’t run off and leave her to deal with the aftermath. But they don’t have that place, all they have is the here and now. That scene captured me because that’s the question I had been trying to ask myself since I lost my father. I wanted there to be this place where he didn’t get sick, and he didn’t die and we were all happily living together as one fucked up family. I want that place more than I’ve let myself admit. More than I will ever let anyone know. Anyway I started reading this book called From the Corner of His Eye, and in this book every single person was interconnected and woven together to generate this ultimate goal, that has absolutely nothing to do with what I’m trying to say here. What I want to explain is that in this book there are hundreds of thousands of planes of existence. Every single choice in one’s life branches off. There is a place where my father chose to stay with my mother, but he still got sick and died. There’s a place where he never got a sick, and a place where it was worse. There’s a thousand shades of gray in a thousand different characteristics in each world, but each in turn has it’s tragedies. They are separate, removed, do not effect one another, but they all have their traumas, and their terrifics. The problem with entertaining these ideas, is how much I want to be in another reality, one that parallels my own, but not to the point where I can recognize it. There’s so many variables that you can’t really pinpoint what you want to change you know? What if I had kissed TJ on that grand day that I can’t seem to forget when I ended up at his house in tears and in his bed with him caressing me? Would we have ended up together, or would I be more broken than I am now? What if I hadn’t betrayed Jessi’s trust? Would she still have moved to California? Would I still have David? That’s the ultimate question. If my father was in my life, if TJ was there solely as a friend, if I had never ever gone to the lengths to betray Jessi that I did, would I still have ended up with the love of my life as closely woven into my heart? Maybe in some somewhere. I dunno if it makes it better or worse if it’s possible, but will never amount to happening. Is it comforting to know that that place is there? Would it be better to know that my father could walk me down the aisle at my and David’s wedding in another place, but he can’t here? Maybe I’d miss it more. Maybe I’d be dead today, I don’t really know. Freak car crash with my father at the wheel, possibly. Maybe I never would have gotten close to TJ at all, and he would have killed himself when he had the chance months ago. Every event in my life succumbs to the moment that I lost my father. If I hadn’t lost him I wouldn’t have gained the friends, and love that I have in my life now, but it isn’t a welcomed loss. I will never step back and see it for the greater good that was intended. He didn’t need to be taken. He was the most kind, generous, misunderstood, but still loving man that I ever knew, and he deserved better. He deserved a full life. Maybe he got that. Maybe in the years he had he gained everything that I think isn’t possible in 36 years. But then again maybe he didn’t. I hate the fact that I’ll never know. Unless there’s that somewhere, where all wrongs have been righted and I’m as happy as I can possibly be. I only wish someday to glimpse myself in that kind of glory.

Broken, bleeding into the existence of the what-ifs of my dreams,

Jenny

12:39 am

Here I go again, off the rocker, off the floor. I'm hurting from these numbing pains, that aren't existant anymore. If I were just a fraction more, deluded, or self involved, maybe I'd have a factory named after me, and the puzzle could be solved. But I'm no inventor, no self-representer, or attention hog. I'm simply me, please no recognition or applause. I'm the leader of the followers, what's the next turn i should take? I'm the ringleader of the disillusioned, what secret entrance must we make? And if there are no answers, or simple solutions, or gradious causes, simply lead us to the dragon's quarters, there will be blood, but no honor or safety clauses. We'll self destruct at any minute, stay clear of the gun. The only thing we were ever taught was stay put, and never run. Run run run away, but never have the nerve to stray. We like to think we're poets, writers, or just creative bets. But we're simply rhyming fools, with tics to keep our imaginations wet. Speaking in the form of multiple personalites always makes me feel less alone, but the only thing I can think to remember are the sins for which i must atone. Stay back, don't worry, I'll get to the end of this sad sob story. the path to this wonderful ending has been under construction for quite some time, there's a detour, but believe it's not worth your time.

Back to the Beginning (old entry)
Mood:  not sure

So here I am again, or maybe more precisely, here I am back where I always end up. It’s that place that you never quite want to be, but end up there anyway. Every time you get there you recognize it. It has the same signs, the same surroundings, but surprisingly a much different road leading there. It’s always a different path, always different choices and different circumstances, but you always end up in the same place. In the same circle, with the same problems, and the same escapes. Being such a creative person you’d think that I’d be able to write myself out of these kind of holes. You’d think that I’d be able to make different choices, leading to different circumstances, and different roads, and eventually different destinations. But my roads lead in one direction. My roads lead to what I’ve only just realized is what I define as home. Home was always an odd concept to me, anyway. It was never a place, or rather any physical place. It was always a state of mind. It was a group of places, or people, or feelings that coalesced to a single idea that I just knew somehow was home. It was the place I yearned for when I wasn’t there, but hated when I was trapped inside. I missed it, but at the same time I never wanted to miss it, or maybe I realized that in effect I shouldn’t miss it. But I do, even sitting here knee deep in it’s aftermath. I miss it. And in reality all it is, is this place where things cannot possibly ever get worse, and the only thing that can happen is that things start to look up. It’s the tail-end of depression, the last step to recovery, the first step to mental freedom. And every time I’m there I don’t want to take it. I don’t want to walk away from this place, because I know for a fact that no matter what I do, or where I go, or who I meet, or who I fall in love with, or what friends come screaming and running full force back into my life, that I’m going to end up back here. But it’s home, and I’ll always have a special place for it in my heart, and in my soul, but mainly in my mind. I want it back already and I’m still in it. Where I was going with this I have no idea, because all I turned this computer on for was to play pinball, but now sitting here I have about a million things to say. Life has been low lately. I’ve been crying a lot, mainly when I’m alone, but a lot of times when I’m not too. Things between me and David have been strained. He’s pushing away, and I’m clinging on. Not to say I’m clingy, I just hate the fact that no matter what I seem to do I can’t keep that love, or affection between us. I never thought in a million years that he’d get tired of kissing me, and it’s hard for me even to type that because I don’t want it to be true, but then again it’s the truth, and there’s no secrets here. It’s hard to keep up three fourths of the relationship I guess, and I think I’m driving him crazy with it, but I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to be one of those couples that can’t stand to be around each other, or that get into this routine that they can’t break out of. But here we are, living the routine. He goes to work, I go to school, and about every other day I come over to his house to help him clean, sit back, in another room while he bonds with the boys until he’s ready to go to bed. We don’t go out anymore. We don’t have time alone anymore. It feels like I’m losing him slowly. Not that I need his attention and time every second of every day, I just need my time too. And sure we’re together a lot, hell we’re together more than a lot, but it’s never just us, and even if it is just us sitting in his bedroom, it’s not just us because kenny and adam are a couple rooms over and he’ll leave in a second if they call. I don’t know, I guess I feel like I’ve been kinda shifted to the backburner or something. I’m not the number one priority for him anymore, and it’s hard for me process because he’ll always be number one for me. I will blow off my friends, my family, even my schoolwork for him if he calls, but I feel bad and awkward if I ask him to come in 2 minutes early from being with the guys. Like I’m depriving him of his time alone. I shouldn’t have to feel like that. I don’t want to feel like that, but every time I bring it up he needs his alone time, or he can’t be with me 24-7. That’s never what I’m asking for, I just wish he knew that. I wish he knew how much I love him, and how much it hurts me when he pushes me away, or tells me that he doesn’t wanna touch me, or kiss me, or fuck me. It rips me apart when I have to hear that. Am I becoming his routine? Is he sick of the monotony? Does he want to move on but isn’t admitting it? It’s stupid and ridiculous to wonder any of this, to even type it out, but it’s what I think about all the time. He says I’m beautiful and hot and everything he’s ever wanted, but he changes so much, am I still all that? After finding everything out that he has about me does he still think that I’m that perfect girl he was always searching for? Does he think less of me now that he knows without barriers or lies or false personas who I really am? Sometimes I wonder if I haven’t disappointed him. I’m not his perfect little church girl that follows all the rules and does right in the world. Sometimes I have to question if god really even exists. Maybe I only say that because I wanna keep my mind open, I guess what I really wonder is if he really doesn’t exist. I’m a freethinker. I think out of the box. I don’t just go on what I see or hear or taste or smell. I know there is an entire world out there that I will never know about or see, and I know for a fact it’s there. But still I wonder if god exists. With a god out there would the world truly be like it is today? The world has gone to hell, and I honestly don’t think that any god as all-knowing and all-seeing as the one that so many people believe in can actually exist. No god would let some things that happen in this world happen. But then again there’s the other side of the spectrum. Maybe all these things are happening today because not enough people believe in god. Not enough people devote themselves to him, so he doesn’t have as much power as he used to. Either way, he’s not this great all highly being that everyone thinks he is. He’s just like us. He fucks up, he fails. So why worship? This doesn’t really ever bother me, except for when David makes me feel so inadequate for not believing, like I’m missing out or something. I’m not missing out, I’m just sick of being misinformed I guess. Misguided is probably a better word. In the end I guess I have a 50/50 chance. Heaven exists or it doesn’t. I get in or I don’t. There’s no reason to waste my life wondering, or chasing a cause that might not be there. I just wish that david could respect that side of me. The non-religious one. But none of it matters. None of this is leading anywhere or to anything good I guess. I’m just upsetting myself more because I’m realizing what is so wrong in my life and that I have no concrete way of fixing it or bettering anything. Maybe I just need to roll with it. I need to lighten up, and take things as they come. The days are warming up, the skies are getting bluer and brighter and I’m still in my shades of grey, it’s time to change with the seasons. Springtime is my season, my time, my freedom. Open my wings, fly away and take those that believe with me. It’s gonna be a wild ride, or at least an eventful one.

pain is learning (old entry i found in my drafts)
Mood:  not sure
Now Playing: Brad Paisley
we're drowning in the trenches
we're choking on our indecision
is this pain we're feeling worth it
am i learning from anything at all?

sometimes i wonder if it were only easier
if i could let the currents drag me under
and take me out to the sparkling silver rivers
that lie just past the world i am not.

if pain were the only reminder in a world of chaos to do right by one's self and others, would we even pay attention? is pain anything? can it be nothing?

I sat at my computer earlier today having a virtual conversation with a virtual friend. I call him that simply because that is what he is to me now. He's a bunch of words appearing on a computer screen because he refuses to come to life for me, in every sense of the word. Come to think of it he always did refuse. I'm not sure when he died inside, but the funeral has long since been conducted and I am the sole survivor mourning the loss. There is so much pain inside of him that it radiates from his every touch, look, even typed word. He is, in every essence, pain. It's all he knows. It's all he'll let himself become now. It didn't used to bother me, it didn't used to literally hurt me, but today, for the first time, it did. This got me thinking because the way i have been taught pain is a lesson, something that needs to be learned.

Think about it, we've been taught this way since the very day we were born. When we did something wrong we were slapped on the bottom or wrist. The pain taught us not to act up. Growing out of my toddler days I had quite a large problem with sucking my thumb. One day i was playing and fell and scraped up my entire thumb leaving it bloody and scabbed. Later that same day I stuck my thumb in my mouth because it was my routine and screamed in pain. I never sucked my thumb again. The pain taught me that I shouldn't. Later my mother had a problem with my brother and I jumping on the bed. It didn't matter how many times I was scolded, I didn't listen. Not until I was jumping on the bed and fell off and cut my face up on the window ledge did I learn not to do it. I could go on and on with these examples, the point is that pain is the greatest teacher in a human's life. We don't like to hurt, or should I say, we shouldn't. It teaches us to be careful, to be smart, to do the right thing.

It's not only physical either. The mental pains are probably the worst. The problem is that they can be deceiving as well. Emotional pain cuts to the very heart of everything we are, to be human is to have emotions, and to have those emotions pained is cataclysmic. It alters us, changes us deep inside.

fuck it
Mood:  irritated
Now Playing: not a fucking thing
Topic: life

Do you think there's fate? do you think that everything in this fucked up world has it's place and it's reason and it's need to exist? because I think it's utter and complete bullshit. I wasted an entire hour of my life getting on here and typing out every last thing I could remember about my father because I felt like I was losing him, and I get a phone call, and I try to download something on limewire, and I come back to this screen and it's just gone. Tell me this happened for a reason. Tell me that there is a god out there and he saw me truly trying to help myself and get better and he let some freak internet quirk erase it all away. This world is fucked. and I'm fucked up. I need this all down in typing, and I need it to be preserved, so i'm starting over, and I will duplicate every last thing that I remember writing.

I'm standing on the edge of I have no idea where I am, and I'm not sure I want to know. It's this sickening place where I jsut want to jump, but I'm not even sure what I"m jumping too, or maybe away from. It's just the adrenaline, the feeling that nothign can touch followed by a split second of pure pain before it bleeds out of your consciousness and you are left completely and utterly numb. I want to be numb again. And I'm not even sure why. My friends are back and behind me 100%. me and my boyfriend are fantastic, he has his problems, i have mine, but we are not each others problems. we're finally okay. but there are days when i still feel empty deep inside. Days where I know a piece of me is still missing and is never ever coming back.

I should be used to that spot, I should be comfortable knowing that nothing and no amount of healing will fill it. I can visit his grave, and talk about him, and look at pictures of him, but nothing will help. nothing will heal. nothing will change. he is gone. and he's not coming home to me.

the worst part of this entire ordeal is that I can't remember what he smelled like, or what color his eyes were. I don't remember his favorite color, or television show, or even song. I can't remember if his hands were soft or rough or in between. it's slipping through my fingers, and he's slipping through my consciousness. I fear that everyday he is gone I lose a new memory... even if i am trying so desperately to hold on.

I don't want my children to ask me about him 10 years down the road and not have answers to the simplest questions. I can't stand looking in the mirror knowing that I'm leaving him behind, that I have forgotten him. After all, I'm the writer of this family. I am the only one that I know of that takes the time to let everythign that happens to me bleed through my fingertips and onto paper. I should have written it down. But I failed him, and myself when I didn't. I am failing my father by not preserving his memory.

so here's the list... again... in no particular order. Every painstaking detail that is left, because it needs to be remembered, to be written down. he was the greatest man I ever knew and people need to know him. if only through this journal and my head, and my take on who he was.

he made a killer apple pie.

he liked poinsettas on christmas.

he thought he was some kind of photographer, even tho he was horrible at it.

he loved animals.

he grew a pot plant in the hallway bathroom never thinking that us kids would know what it was.

he couldn't type worth a damn.

he wore an army jacket or a flannel jacket 99% of the time that the weather called for it.

his shoes were always untied.

he was only ever at home outdoors.

he was gentle.

he was loving.

he was the richest man, if only in love.

money did not make a difference in his life.

roses were his favorite flower to take care of.

he took us to the park and brought wax paper so we could make the slide extra slick.

he hunted for arrowheads and morrell mushrooms.

he was obsessed with indian life, not only because of his heritage, but because he liked their way of life.

he took a thousand pictures but hardly ever developed the film.

his eyes were brown.

his hair was thick and brown too.

he loved nash bridges adn cheech and chong.

he bought a real live christmas tree every year for christmas before he moved out of my mom's house.

he loved beef jerky.

we made sugar cookies together every year.

he hated cleaning.

he drove a red pick up truck.

he took us to chuckee cheese.

he loved country music

his smile was crooked.

he loved twinkies, and anything else hostess.

he made even the simplest outings fun.

his favorite place to go out and eat was ryan's buffet.

he loved his and everyone else's children.

he built dollhouses.

he wanted to build a canoe.

he was a great fisherman, and taught me everything he knew.

he didn't want me to miss him.

he believed in me.

he never judged.

he had hairy toes, i guess everyone has their flaws.

he used old spice aftershave sometimes.

he bit his nails.

he called me jen jen.

i'll add to the list later, i feel better, but like i said nothign will ever fill this hole. nothing will ever make any of this okay. i don't even know where to go from here, other than bed.

remember forever what you will someday forget,
jenny