a confusing interruption

A confusing interruption.
That's what you are.
I was wonderfully happy until your name appeared.
You just waltzed right in without a warning.
Scrawled across my screen; that single letter, not even your name.
It hurt too much.
Why did you deserve your name, of all things, to be written in my phone, if I couldn't be written into your life?
Be the goal you worked towards and wanted.
Like you promised.

But that didn't matter.
It didn't for the last 2 and a half months.
All that mattered was the new girl, and how you felt.
I was shit to you.
I wasn't even worth the mud on the bottom of your boots.

Life for me became better, and brighter.
After I left the dark depths of my purple sheets we once shared.
The blackened room your laugh used to fill.
And the hole in my heart that you had filled only temporarily.

Things began to change, and so did I.
I stared to go out with friends, become a social butterfly.
Believe it or not, I tried drinking.
It didn't last long, a couple sips, and I couldn't bare the taste.
The burn. The horrible smell.
I've been to a couple parties here and there.
And as bad as it sounds, I slept in a couple beds that didn't belong to me.
I drove to Moscow for a couple dumb reasons.
Had
I've spent too much time staying up late, and worrying about how contoured my cheeks were.
But I needed something to fill the void.
The void of you being gone, and me being alone.reL
You had her.
You had someone to hold at night, to love and joke with.
You had someone to share everything we used to do together with.
You had her lips to kiss.
You had her hand to hold.
You had her to call baby.
You had it all.

I had memories that are fading and I'm not so sure are real anymore or not.
I had that pit of my stomach in knots.
I had restless nights filled with empty wishes and full tears.
I had everything you didn't, because you had her.

I look back now and realize that maybe things were meant to be with us apart.
Maybe things just were right at the wrong time.
Maybe this was just a test.
Maybe you were just a confusing interruption.

You did teach me some valuable lessons, and showed happier ways.
You made me believe I was beautiful for just a few short six months.
You also taught me I'm strong enough to get through anything that comes my way, even if the wrong people are around.

You still cross my mind.
Maybe it's certain words that are said.
Maybe it's a picture your mom posts on Facebook.
It could be a truck that is the same color, or make.
It could be the way someone's laugh sounds like yours or the mention of the same name.
Maybe it's something I'm doing that brings back a memory.
Maybe it's these purple sheets I love so dearly that you have a pillowcase that belongs to them.

Who knows what it is.
Maybe it's a mystery.
Maybe it is because you are thinking about me and the reason I'm loosing sleep at night is because you're dreaming of me.

All I know, is you still cross my mind.
And I don't know if I crossed yours because your single, and you missed me.
Maybe because I am the one for you.
But right now, I know that if you ever needed anything or anyone, I'd be there in a heartbeat.
No matter how much I swear I hate you when I'm crying.
How I blame things on you.
How I hate something now because of you.
How my heart is still mending its self together piece,
by piece,
by piece.
How my life and world was flipped upside down because of you, after I got everything glued back together and arranged on the shelves again.

But.
But, no matter what.
You.
S, You.
You will always be a confusing interruption.

A confusing interruption.
That's what you are.

Upside down and inside out.

Upside down and inside out.
Upside down is a new direction.
Inside out is a new direction.
New directions without you.
I headed North, home for 20 minuets.
Tear filled eyes, hoarse throat.
You locked me out.
Goodbye.

July 5th, 2:48 A.M.

The first hour was the worst.
I cried, sweating, on the cold bathroom floor.
The floor colder than your heart you claimed is gold.
I thought was gold.

July 5th, 3:48 A.M.

I was finally able to lay in bed without you.
My cheeks torn apart my tears and snot.
The inside of my t-shirt filled with mascara stains.

July 5th, 4:48 A.M.

Days passed without you.
Along with hours, seconds, and deep breathes.
I slowly began eating.
I began listening.
I began drying my tears and tearing myself away from the purple sheet we used once to share.

July 12th, 12:01 P.M.

I drive away from your house for the last time.
Dirt flying from behind the spinning tires.
Music thumping from speakers.
My life behind me.
Everything good I once knew in my rear view mirror.
Along with the new piece of gold plated copper you'll share your bed with.
You'll kiss, love, and adventure with.
But remember I'll forever be the first passenger in the brand new truck.

July 23rd, 3:46 P.M.

I have now began to understand happiness.
My upside down, inside out life is almost falling into place.
New adventures, new people.
An upside down view of the world is my new vice.
My vice without you.
withOUT you. Damn it feels good to say that.

August 13th, 12:30 P.M.

My best friend is home.
I'm happy.
Our tires hit the road to the city that is sleepless.
The city you promised to take me to.
The songs show up on the radio, online or not.
Our songs.
Trucks fly by, my four wheels dying to beat theirs.
Trucks of same brand, same color, same make, same model.
But the same people will never fill yours.
And that is okay.

August 15th, 6:08 P.M.
I'm home.
We are home, my friends and I.
My life for the past month has been a mess.
But I realized that of course it is.
My world got flipped upside down, and everything was turned over.
But this is a good kind of over.
I've met new people.
I've seen new things.
I've heard new noises.
And I didn't do with you.
No more tears.
No more fingers to lace together.
No more midnight love sessions.
No more weekend adventures.
With you.

August 19th, 2:12 A.M.
Adventures, and experiences have been commenced.
Life has began.
Smiles are genuine.
Laughs are loud and full again.
My nightmares are dreams again.
Midnight adventures sessions are coming to ends until the next day.
And I don't need YOU.

It's been 44 days.
23 hours.
40 minuets.
38 seconds since I've been without you.
And I've never felt so free.
I've never felt not trapped.
I'm me. I'm the music thumpin', hippie-vibin', cat lovin', loud laughin', girl you once fell in love with and you can't have her back.

I'm happy.
I'm in love win life.
I'm in love with myself.
I knew I could count on you for something.
Something, I just wasn't sure what.
I figured it out.
I could count on you to confirm people always leave, the only love you'll ever need is from yourself, and that life is a ride, you just gotta know how to hang on.

Thank you.
I'll forever be thankful for what you do for me, don't get me wrong.
But I'm really thankful for having you to teach me what the difference is between a boy and a man.
And I don't owe you anything.

August 19th, 2:24 A.M.

Im happy living my life.

Upside down and inside out.

4:27 AM

I lay in my bed, 4:27 AM.
Sheets tangled around me.
Country love music in the background.
4:27 AM.
I've stressed about the dirty kitchen, the bills, and things needed for the house.
I lay here thinking about how you're asleep, alone, 20 minuets away in your bed.
4:27 AM.
I lay here thinking what if I don't make it? What if I can't finish college or never find the right career?
What if I can never be the best mom, and only put in effort like my mom until my oldest is just barely 19?
What if I never have enough money to support us?
What if you find someone else?
4:27 AM.
What I am doing with my life right now is okay, but am I going to get through?
I don't want to be alone in this bed anymore.
I want to roll over and have you here.
I want to feel your breath on my neck, shallow and warm.
Your arm around me, when I lay wide awake thinking about how my life is crashing.
Instead of laying here, 4:27 AM with tear filled eyes, my body shaking from stress, and my throat in a know.
4:27 AM.
I love you, and will never be able to express it enough. I want to be able to spend the rest of my life with you, until 4:27 AM on my last day.
The way I catch you staring, and how I can block out the cat calls with your simple smile.
The adventures in the pick up, or the sheets.
4:27 AM.
I don't want to be here, in 4:27 AM, alone.
Anymore.
I lay here.
I lay in my bed, 4:35 AM.

Seven. Seven words.

Seven.
Seven words came rolling off of your lips.
Words that everyone seems to say, and have never seemed to remember saying.
For some silly reason, I believe you.
I then begin to imagine what these words are defined by.
What they consist of. What you mean.

I want them.
Want is the key word here.
I want them to consist of this:
  A house of a thousands smiles.
  A front door that opens into a perfect fantasy.
  A lowered living room, with a deck all around.
  A kitchen with home-cooked, loved-filled meals.
  An upstairs, with a view into our everyday life.
  A private getaway; Ours.
  A beautiful glass barrier, with a view and a glass deck.
  A bed, our bed, set away, in its own cove.
  French doors, entering into our own.
  Double walk in closets, with mirrored doors unlocking them.
  A glass door entering into the place we wash our worries away...together.
  This isn't all I want with you, though.

Yes, I want a big house.
But, not all to ourselves.
I want a house filled with the patter of little feet.
Smudges of little finger prints, and giggles of little voices.
The early morning wake up calls of laughter and kisses.
The morning rush of breakfast, clothes, lunches and an SUV of booster seats.
The nightly wind-down of dinner, baths, spelling tests, and goodnight kisses and prayers.

A life of our own definition of perfection.
I want to change my name, and start a new story.
Our story.
Our life.
Out adventure.

I want to be able to tell our kids about the silly adventures.
Late nights, your dirty FJ, and muddy jeans.
The nights in, the cuddles, and the inside jokes.
The feeling of us running the town at 2 AM on late night runs until the roads stopped...gravel and all.
Our wedding, how we met, and our first fight.

I want to share it all.
But.
But.
But, I want to share it all with our kids.
I want them to look at us, and set goals to be like mommy and daddy.
I want to be able to say the word.
Daddy.
And know my kids will never choke on the world when their lips form it, like mine did.

I want everyone to look at us and wonder if we are still kids.
I want to have everyone be jealous we are still in love at the beginning of every day and a little more each night.

Your tan skin.
Blue eyes.
Bright smile, and full laugh.
The way you care about us, and put us first.
Everything about you.
Your pajama pants, and arms around me.
You.
Your lips.

Those seven. 
Six simple words.
Six words roll off your lips.

"I want to take you with me."

Six.

Screws & Blood.

"Screws fall out all the time.
The world is an imperfect place."
The Breakfast Club//1985

Well if screws fall out all the time and the world is supposed to be an imperfect place,
The bucket that sits in the corner of the old man's garage on 5th street,
Must be full of my screws for my world.
Maybe my heart is in there too.

Honestly, Probably.
More then likely.
It's being poked and prodded.
Pried open, and bleeding.
My blood dries in the cracks and crevices.
Not the cracks and crevices of the bucket, or the screws.
The cracks and crevices of my hands.

I have lived in a world upside down.
Here, let me describe it:
Like a snow-globe that sits on the shelf around Christmas time.
Like a snow-globe that is shaken 365 times a day.
Like a snow-globe that has greasy fingerprints on it.
Like a snow-globe that no one cares about, or wants to clean.

I live in a world of constant confusion.
Hate.
Low self-esteem.
Embarrassment.
Laughing stock.
& so much more.

I am not like the girls on magazine covers.
My house is almost constantly filled.
Filled with what, you may ask?
Filled with yelling.
Tears.
Hatred.
Anxiety.
Tension.
Annoyance.
And more tears.

I am not the perfect person in your eyes.
Yet, you want me to be.
You want to be just like me and I don't want that.
I am supposed to be the one that wants to be like you.
And that's the last thing I want.
I don't want to drive my children crazy.
I don't want to kick them out.
I don't want to make them stressed.
Or feel like they were cut from the wrong piece of ugly cloth.

Because.
Because myself, I.
I cannot physically cut the cloth and make me, you.
I hate myself because of you.
I hate my body because of you.
I hate my world because of you.
I hate me.

I know how to tie a smile on my face,
and laugh like I mean it.
You have made me vulnerable.
Vulnerable to myself.
To guys.
To everyone.
It has wrecked me.

I want to pull my hair out.
I want to scream.
Cry.
Feel pain.

But I also want to feel loved.
Laugh.
Free.
Happy.
And I can't do that because you're holding me back.

My heart is in a bucket full of screws,
Along with all the good memories of us.
Right now, all your doing is slowly deleting each good one with a bad one.
My hands covered in dried blood.

"The world is an imperfect place.
Screws fall out all the time."
The Breakfast Club//1985

Something Valuable

I learned something valuable yesterday.
Yesterday while I was on the phone with the boy who I want to believe I am madly in love with.
I learned something, that kind of hit me in the heart.
I have to quit.
Quit living life like a burden.
Quit thinking the worst on myself.
Quit thinking I am a pain to everyone.
Just quit.
I have to live life.

Live life.

I have to enjoy every day.
Every single damn day.
I have to embrace the rain.
The sun.
The wet grass.
Or maybe when I slip and fall on a couple wet leaves.
I just have to embrace everything.

Embrace it.

I can’t think that every day is something meant to be normal.
Normal isn’t what I do.
It hasn’t been since the beginning.
Most days are an adventure.
The rest of those days?
The rest of those days are the breaks home between road trip, hikes, and exploring.

I have to be me.

I have to be that girl.
The girl who everyone notices.
But in a good way.
The girl from next door.
The girl from the corner of the library.
Because no matter how many people I believe hate me, twice as many want to be like me.
I realized that to some people, I am the one they want to live like.
The girl who is carefree.
The girl who has her head stuck in the clouds.
The girl who loves.
The girl who laughs and cries.
The girl who doesn’t do anything out of spite.

The girl who is free.

You cant live life like a clock.
Doing the same thing every day.
Going around in circles, perfectly.
Because, honey.
Honey time is a silly thing.
Its there to keep us on track, but not to live our lives for us.
Time is a secret shadow.
Time is a wonder element.
Time is a dream.
You are in charge.
You control time.
Time lasts forever.
You don’t.
Live life like the clock is broken.
Like the numbers are jumbled.
Like the hands go every direction.
Like midnight doesn’t exists.

I am.

The sun sets and rises for you.
For you, my dear.
The moon and stars are bright.
They shine for you.
Yes, you my dear.

You have to attack every day.
Attack it with energy.
With a carefree attitude.
Don’t let what happened in the past happen today.

I learned that no matter how mean she is.
How much he said he loved you.
Or how the way you guys laughed together.
That is what you have to live off of.
Analyze evry situation, and throw away the worst.
Hang those good moments on the wall.

Find you.

Find the Christina Yang.
Audrey Hepburn.
Meredith Stephens.
Taylor Swift.
Marvin Gaye.
The next door neightbor.
Find them in you
Embrace it.
Live it.
Slay the day.

You have to quit living life in the mud.
Pick up the mud.
Throw it.
Start a mud fight with the one you love.
Kiss in the end.
Wake up the next day, and remember.
Remember there is no such thing as midnight.
Take the long home.
Find a lookout.
Kiss the sand.
Yell at the top of your lungs.
Chinese fire drill in the middle of the day.
Pay for someone’s coffee.
Because when you realize.
Realize life is simple.
You make the rules.

I learned something valuable yesterday.

I ask myself

I ask myself everyday.
I ask myself everyday if you hate me.
I ask myself everyday if you love me.
I ask myself everyday if you would really want to.
Want to spend the rest of your life with me.
I strongly doubt it.
I strongly doubt you love me.

I wouldn't be surprised if those 5 hurtful words spilled from your lips so easily.
Maybe the stream from your fingers.
Maybe it will be after you make sure I am in your car.
Maybe it will be over a candle light dinner.
Maybe it will be after I thought you loved me.
Maybe it will be tonight.

Shaking.
Listening to the world around me.
Everyone around me, I wonder if it is you.
In reality I know it isn't.
You don't love me that much.
Not as much as I thought you did.

I thought you really in love with me.
But in reality I do believe that I am just an object.
I don't think I what you are looking for.
I cant be what you are looking for.
I cant be true, I cant be real.
An objet to keep you stable, an object to pre occupy you.
Something.

I am not a person.

I sit here, with tears held in the corners of my eyes.
Your love bite on my neck.
Your favorite band playing in the background.

I wonder if you hate me.
I feel you do, sometimes.
You'll never know how much you keep me grounded.

It's no longer your hands that caress my face, but my tears.
These tears are filled with pain and fear.
I wish you were the one.
I cannot grasp how I feel.
My thoughts are confused.

I feel like a burden on you.
I feel like I am holding you back for living your life.
I am slowing you down, and you won't admit it.

I am not a person.

I am not the girl you dated before me.
I am not the girl you wanted before you met me.
I am not wild like her.
I am not one to live life high.
I am not one to burn my sorrows away with a lighter.
I am not the one to show my body in ways she did.

I don't have the natural look.
I don't have long brown hair like she does.
I don't know how to do the things you used too.
I feel as if I need to know.
I feel as if I should know.
I feel as if I should for you to love me.

I am not a hippie, nor a weed smoker.
I do not want to travel from festival to festival.
I don't live on the beach, paint my face with funny colors.
I don't drink, nor want too.
I don't want to black out the important years of my life.
But I do want to love you.

Right now.
Right now at this moment in time.
This specific moment in time, I hate my life.
I hate the way I have to turn to you.
I hate the way I feel disguarded from you.
I hate the way you make me feel wrong most of the time.
I hate the way I feel as if I stress you out.
I feel like you hate me.
You hate the depressed me.
You hate my habits, and my fears.
You hate my worries.

I swear you hate me.
You don't love me.
I am just an object.
An object you can leave love bites, and touches on.
Something you play with in your spare time.
A form of habit you cannot quit.

I am not a person.

I know the old you is different from the you I know now.
But that old you shines through.
The way you hold on and can't let go of old habits.
The way you do things when you're bored.
The way you talk about your past.
I know you miss those people.
I know you miss the old house.
I know you miss the way you used to live.
I know yet, you don't.

I thought you loved me.
I think you don't and your'e just using me.
I can't say anything to you without feeling that I am will be in trouble.
I cannot let go.
I don't want to let go of you.
I can't.

I can hear the annoyance.
I can feel the tension.
I can see the confusion and pity.

Yet you make me feel like I am not a human being.

I am waiting for those five words.
Those five words of hurt.
Those five words.

I don't know if it will be a serious encounter, or one out of spite.
But I do know, I am scared.
I am scared to actually speak the way I feel in front of you or even to you.
I am scared that one day you'll tell me to stop.
You won't hold me anymore.
You won't touch me.
You won't kiss me.
That is when I know it's coming to a screeching halt.
I no longer know what to say, nor how to describe the way I am feeling.
I just want you to know I feel like a burden to you.
I can't help that I am fucked up.
I just can't.
I do know that either you do kind of love me, or you're really good at lying and pretending.

Just remember that I am not pretending nor lying.

I ask myself everday.
I ask myself everyday if you hate me.
I ask myself everyday if you love me.
I ask myself everyday if you would really want to.
Want to spend the rest of your life with me.
I strongly doubt it.
I strongly doubt you love me.