365 days

My soul is a black hole of despair. One year ago today, you breathed an existence of eternity into my life.  The stars aligned in a perfect alignment of destiny. I felt every ounce of my being become whole. In one moment, everything that mattered became expendable; a new reason blossomed for existing. I knew in that moment that the look in your eyes was foretelling a journey of struggle; a battle of hope; a war of agony. I knew you were the kind of reckless that should have sent me running; I never knew what was about to hit me. One year removed from one of the happiest moments of my life, I mourn what barely existed. I have never wanted a moment back more. I would give anything to exist in your arms forever. Instead - I suffocate; I barely exist. My existence has collapsed into dust because I can barely feel you anymore. I don’t remember what your breath tastes like; the feeling of your arms around me is faint and fading; when I close my eyes, your blue eyes burn stern in my mind. I fight for some sanity of hope; maybe in another place in time, maybe our moment – our cataclysm - our fused existence, was just a moment too soon; too powerful for even the most pristine and calculated configuration to hold onto. Maybe our livelihood is better apart – separated - split.  I find myself driving to places to feel a second inside our cataclysm. I only want back what I felt for a momentary breath. I would give anything to hold you; feel you; kiss you; see you; exist peacefully with you. I only want you – in any capacity possible. I do not care if I see you as often as Haley’s Comet arrives. I only want to breathe your existence again. I miss your piercing blue eyes – the way they literally twinkle when you get excited, like the whole world is glimmering in them. I miss the way your blonde hair falls perfectly when it is tousled after you sleep. I miss your smile – the power of the sun is encapsulated in that smile and in a moment, darkness become golden warmth in your presence. I miss your laugh – the perfect pitch and note that echoes out of your chest when you laugh. Only your laugh can be played on repeat and hold a perfect harmony. There is a look in your eyes – this insanely perfect look – and there is not a way anyone could possibly understand until they see it; when you fall completely silent, and you lock eyes with a person, a glistening crosses your eyes and your lips curl ever so slightly on your face. The most perfect expression to ever cross any face. The look in your eyes plunges deep into my soul and drags out every truth I have ever known, every secret I have ever held, every feeling I have ever felt. That look told me so many things – but you won’t ever know how many feelings followed; the feeling of being absolutely perfect in my imperfection. You won’t ever know that the perfect solution to my imperfection was you being perfectly imperfect with me. 

Numb

My soul disintegrates to dirt. I lay, lifeless and long forgotten, with nothing but numbness; only cold and desolation surround me now. How do I breathe, when my only reason for breath has forsaken me and shattered the foundation of my livelihood? Is there no justice in this life? Over and over, I made leaps and bounds; continually I hopped through hoops; I gave my all for you. Over and over – You pulverized me, continuously. You never gave me any reciprocation of my unconditional and undying love; you were cold and callous. You left me alone, withered in agony and dismay, to rot; my soul, but a pile of earth, disintegrated over time. I had no control as my logic and reason took a steady decline into insanity; the blissful ignorance was a welcome blindness to your idiocy and selfishness. I see the ways in which you have used me and battered me; I see my soul lifeless next to me; I see my life ending of my own discourse.  Yet, I want to hold you. I want to tell you all the ways in which I love you so. I want to fuse our livelihoods together in a burning desire, that of which we have yet to satisfy to the extent of our togetherness, which will weld a perfect sanity in our imperfect insanity. I want wholeness with you when we are but many pieces shattered separate. Our distance is troubling. I no longer feel your warmness and see your soul. I can understand your heart no longer, as if it no longer is mine. My soul bleeds a poison black. There is no reason for fighting; an imperial relapse in all aspects of life is on the horizon. Where do I begin? Where do I end? How in the world do you expect me to complete myself when my perfect completion was your imperfection? Without you , I am soulless. 

Why bother...

I love you is such an important and special phrase. It is that phrase we reserve for people who make us absolutely nuts; the people we sometimes want to strangle; the people we are nothing without. This is the phrase that reminds our loved ones and significant others, that through all the bullshit, they are still the people we can't breathe without; they are still the ones we want to talk to at the end of a long day, even if they added to the unnecessary length and bullshit we went through. I love you shouldn't be tossed around lightly. Okay, toss it at your friends - soon enough you will know to which friends it actually means something. But at what point do you spare a broken heart? In which moment is it that you realize that feeling actually is love? They say drunkenness is when we are most truthful. If that is true, how much does a drunken I love you really mean? When those three words are all you have been waiting for, how do you ignore them like they are not important to you? You said I love you...you made the next step...now do something about it...

Accidental Serendipity

In our moment, it was as if the Earth separated at it's axis and we were suspended between the core of the Earth; enveloped in a burning desire; surrounded by a blazing eternity; illuminated by irrevocable perfection. Inside us a cataclysm bound our souls to each other; our lives yielded together in a breathless and silent collapse of any foundation, stability, and control we knew. Reality shattered away around us; darkness sealed our hidden desire; time halted beneath us. Our breath became one flowing motion; our skin sparked and burnt with flaming ecstasy; our destinies were driven together in a fated existence. Our skin was on fire; a furious, long awaiting blaze that consumed our lust. There was only us. We were but two souls entangled in one passion; two souls bound by one burning desire; two souls completing a destiny that is yet to be foretold. 

I spend every night letting precious minutes waste away. The time seems suspended in space; blackness enveloping me as I fall into it's somber embrace. The space around me suffocating in it's own existence expels an anxiety that is pulverizing my core. Shallow breaths reminding me of the extreme paralysis within me. It is my feeble and melancholy self realization that shatters the density around me. I stare at my phone. It's silence is deafening. It is a painful reminder that you are gone. Each moment screaming louder at me, "Just let go." Three words that could rescue my existence from impending extinction. I ignore them. It is in the painful and core shattering moment that I realize how little I matter; however, hope clings to that sliver. Maybe, on some level, the timing is off. Maybe all destiny needs it time to reconfigure the equation. The ticking of my mental clock snaps me out of my own mind. I am left in the blackness; I re-invite the somber. Through this melancholy, I can self sooth and remember. It is not the end of my life, though it seems it. Trust time, for it is all I have.

Messages

Sometimes, I write messages to you that are paragraphs and paragraphs long. I spend hours pouring out my heart to you. And then in an instant, I remember that even if I tell you of the purest and most raw emotions and the most powerful feelings I have for you, it won't make you love me. It won't make you change your mind because you have already made up your mind. That I am not the person that you want. So I delete it. Instead of sharing with you my deepest desires and feelings I swallow my pride and remind myself, that if you wanted me, you would have me.

It's that kiss

It's that kiss where he puts his arms around your waist and pulls you in really tight to him and it makes your toes kind of curl up. And he kinda bends you backwards while you kiss. And you lose yourself. And the only thing holding you up is his arms on your lower back. And your lips are on fire. Like you have just eaten big red gum and then poured gasoline on your lips and lit them on fire. and then you just kind of stand there for a few moments with your lips together with your breathing hitting each others while you regain composure. It's that kiss...The one people search an eternity for.

A Thousand Years

I have fallen in love with this song. It is absolutely my perfect wedding song and it melts my heart every time I hear it. This is my perfect song.

Truth Is

Truth is I wish we talked more. I know I am wasting my time, but I still hold hope that maybe through some shred of a miracle that you just might want to talk to me too. I know this is extremely wishful thinking on my part. However, I was always told to dream big. I guess on some level I am just hoping that one day you see what is going on here and stop pretending like you are too damn good for me. I hope for your sake, the day you finally realize what I have seen all this time, you are not too late to save what will eventually be but a fleeting memory. I hope you are smart enough to know what you are doing before it cannot be undone. Before you know it, I will be long gone and the moments I wasted waiting for you will be time I will eventually consider a grave loss. Time that I will never be able to make up, because you were just too stubborn to realize and see what I see; absolute perfection. I see the one thing people search for their entire lives and it is flying right by you. Please, I am begging you to wake up before I have to walk out of your life forever. Do not let me do something that you will regret.

He Is Just Not That Into You

I wonder if I am the only one? When I have a broken heart, I watch romance movies to give me hope that real love still exists. I guess that is kind of an oxymoron, considering I am watching a fictional story to support true love. But what about the movies that warn us about broken hearts? What about the character's that tell us which guys to steer clear of?

For Example:

• He Is Just Not That Into You
• Hitch
• Think Like A Man
• The Ugly Truth

I was watching He Is Just Not That Into You yesterday and it got me thinking about how we women approach men. Sure we tell men it is all about approach, but are we preaching a piece of advice that we absolutely do not follow? I know that I rush into having feelings. At the first sign of a possible feeling, I associate it with the "spark". Maybe he is just friendly. Maybe we just approach a potential relationship too fast. Let's be honest. What the fuck is the "spark?" Does it even exist? Is there really a spark? Sexual Chemistry? A spark of attraction? And where does this "spark" derive from?

"Guys invented the "spark" so that they could not call, and treat you kind of bad, and keep you guessing, and they convince you that that anxiety and that fear that they're throwing at you is actually, just a "spark". And you guys all buy it. You eat it up. And you love it. You love it because you feed off that drama. You all love that drama." Alex - He Is Just Not That Into You

Do we actually buy this shit? I mean, do we really fall for the cold shoulder? I know I sure do. I trust that guys are just human beings. I try to give guys the benefit of the doubt and all I end up doing is making excuses for them. "He is busy." "He doesn't have his phone with him." "Maybe he is asleep." "He just isn't ready yet." "He still has a lot to learn." At 21 years old, I am still fucking making excuses for why guys treat me like shit. I am giving them enough slack to strangle the belief in love right out of me. I am allowing them to treat me like shit when everyone knows the simple truth:

"...if a guy is treating you like he doesn't give a shit, he genuinely doesn't give a shit. No exceptions.." Alex - He Is Just Not That Into You

"Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up: if a boy punches you he likes you, never try to trim your own bangs, and someday you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending. every movie we see, every story we're told implores us to wait for it: the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. but sometimes we're so focused on finding our happy ending we don't learn how to read the signs. how to tell the ones who want us from the ones who don't, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. and maybe a happy ending doesn't include a guy, maybe it's you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. maybe the happy ending is just moving on. or maybe the happy ending is this: knowing after all the unreturned phone calls and broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment... you never gave up hope. " Gigi - He Is Just Not That Into You

So what do we do? Do we hold onto hope? Do we continue on with the way we have been doing things all this time? What if we try to evolve?  What if as women, we learn from our experiences and heartbreaks and transform ourselves into a more powerful and knowledgeable sex? Instead of hurting, we should teach each other the tricks we have learned. So guys treat us like crap. Let us learn why and fix it. Let us learn what makes them tick and why we are not able to understand them. 

“You have to be two people. The saint and the sinner. The librarian and the stripper.” Mike Chadway – The Ugly Truth

So here it is. Right above here. The Truth is, we are expected to be two people. We are expected to be the girl he will bring home to his mother and the girl who he will dream about for the next five days after he sleep with us. We are expected to be Nice and Naughty. And while we do that, here is what we must remember:

Alex: Your friend Terri's an idiot. And she's also the exception. By the way. The rare exception.

Gigi: Okay. Okay. But what if I'm the exception?

Alex: No, you're not. You're not at all. In fact, you're the rule. And the rule is this--if a guy doesn't call you, he doesn't want to call you.  

Alex & Gigi - He Is Just Not That Into You

And it generally works with any rule guys have. If a guy wants you he will make it happen. If he isn't calling, it's because he doesn't want to. If he isn't making the time for you he doesn't want you. Women are told their whole life that we are the exception. That men are douches because they like us. It is bullshit. If he wants you, he will make it happen. And I just have to stop believing I am the exception. We are not the exception. The guy is a douche. Let him go and move on. Allow yourself the time to live. Be your own fucking person. Stop depending on them. Stop giving them the power over us. WE ARE NOT THE EXCEPTION. 

"...we're not the exception; we're the rule."

Gigi - He Is Just Not That Into You

Let's be honest though. I can put all of this here in front of you, and we still will not change. We will still believe we are someone's exception. We will still make excuses for guys who treat us like complete trash. But even while we are doing that, maybe we can take the time to change just a little bit. Maybe we can learn to not take the bullshit as much or maybe we learn to win him over in non-conventional ways. Maybe we become the woman he wants even though he doesn't know what he wants. 

"I may dissect each little thing and put myself out there so 

much but at least that means that I still care. 

Oh! You've think you won because women are expendable to you. 

You may not get hurt or make an ass of yourself that way 

but you don't fall in love that way either. You have not won. 

You're alone. I may do a lot of stupid shit but I'm still a lot closer to love than you are." 

Gigi - He Is Just Not That Into You

Then of course, we could always go with this nugget of gold: 

"So you wanna win a man over? You don't need 10 steps. You need one and it's called a blowjob."

 Mike Chadway – The Ugly Truth

I'm not saying it will work, but it might. HAHA