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Aug. 7th, 2008 @ 08:43 am
Let's talk about our failures, you and I. Let's talk about all the people we've disappointed, we've let down, we've forgotten in our journeys. Let's talk about what we've done wrong, what we could have done right, and let's talk about the people we've loved and hurt. Then, when we're done, let's try to do better tomorrow. That's the least we can do - that's the least we owe to those around us.

So the dreams, they're coming back, and I talk a lot about dreams, I know. But they tell you to talk about what you know and the things that I know the most, that I know the best, are the things that I find within myself. I'm falling behind on the day and catching up at night, and I'm trying to put them to paper, trying to put them to memory, trying to put them behind me. I'm doing alright these days, thanks for asking. Give my best to yours, and I'll give yours to mine.

Mar. 26th, 2008 @ 09:12 am
And as I walk up the stairs of where I used to live, so many years ago, I still remember where I sat in the corner, watching the world go by. I turn as I near the top, to the right, and walk towards my parents' bedroom, and opening the door, I remember what it really means to be lonely.

In my dreams, I am most lucid, most cognizant, most aware. In my waking days, I fumble, I slip, I forget and I disregard - in my dreams, I remember. They won't let me forget. I used to look for love so furiously, and it was all around me. The one who reminded me that tv loved me, the one who came by late at night to dream of hardwood floors and newspapers on a Sunday morning, the one who never said hello, but always meant it. Miles and miles separated us, but on the same day, at the same time, we both thought, 'Next year, bitches,' and we believed it. I envision lone errant souls being crushed under wave and wave of unending green and for a moment, am struck by the carelessness, the waste, and the indifference. Tonight, I'll draw you a little closer in my arms, breathe in your scent a little deeper, and tomorrow, I'll rise again.

After all these years, I now know that it isn't the riding off into the sunset that makes the moment, it's the fact that while they're riding off, they can't see what lies in front of them for the light.

Sep. 12th, 2007 @ 09:11 pm
I wish I could draw.

Sep. 11th, 2007 @ 09:43 pm
Time and distance have been kind enough to change all these years of grief so far. I have no reason to doubt them.

With the world so wide and so open, with so many things it has to offer, there is no reason to remain somewhere and be sad. I see opportunity before me, and I'm more and more inclined to believe the answer is to leave. There is so little here, but heartache and emptiness in myself, disappointment and failure in others - I cannot overwhelm it, I cannot surrender to it. I am falling, but I believe in time and distance. I have always believed in time and distance.

I would take her hand, and I would cut my losses, and I would run, were that it only possible. And I know that all I really need is a little change, like the beggar in the street, to see and feel anew.

Mar. 8th, 2007 @ 02:08 pm
Tell me what's real these days and I'll believe you tonight. There's just something about the way that the moon shines that makes it all come true. So tell me what is happening here and I'll make sure that it comes to light. Tell me what you want from life and I'll set it all all right. There's no need to convince me of what I know. It's just wasted breath and wasted hearts will never see the end of the world.

Open honesty is open pathways to open clarity. I'll believe what I feel and not always what I see. I don't even know how further I can go, but I'll go there to be there again just to feel the wind blow. If I find I'm heartless, and I'm hopeless, and I'm losing everything that I have sown, then I'll be back around again to gather everything that I own. But this part of me, this part of my world, it belongs to you and I will leave it behind.
Other entries
» (No Subject)
And if life is like a series of movies, this morning was like that ending scene in Say Anything - where John Cusack is giving the father the letter that Ione Skye had written, and saying, 'But I remember an earlier version, where she said she loved you - isn't that something, to know that somewhere out there, she felt that enough to have written it at least once, even if you never got it?'

So maybe, and here's what I'm thinking, life isn't a series of movies, but movies are a series of lives. I'm remembering the things she wrote, once upon a time, and it's impossible not to smile - knowing that someone felt the way she did, even if it was in the past or even if it's now, is enough to convince me that it's never too late to bridge the past or that what's grown between us. So what if, one day, instead of us knocking on doors, doors knocked on us?

"There's a story I have to tell you," he said to her, and she tilted her head to the side, expectantly. "There's a story I have to tell you," he said to her, and he told her. When he was done, she smiled softly, and asked him, "Will you tell it to me again tomorrow?" And he promised he would.
Mar. 8th, 2007 @ 08:13 am
» (No Subject)
Too late the shadows, they howl, and we do not know what for.
Too soon the sun, it calls to thee, and I could never let you go.
Too close to the heart, these words we speak, and there could be no silence here.
Too frantic are these thoughts we have, appearing endless, they could never let you sleep.
And too still are these moments that we know, the best days of our lives are over and yet we remain.

Too near, too now, too suddenly.
I am overwhelmed these days.
Feb. 20th, 2007 @ 07:55 am
» (No Subject)
Words flow around me like an impossible aura these days, and I feel as though I could reach out and take from the air anything I need to say. Can I lend you a sentence, sad enough to make you cry? Do you want a question that will leave you wondering for the rest of the day? I've got this story, you see, a story that you've never heard before. I could tell you all about it, I'm feeling, and all you have to do is ask. All I have to do is offer.

If I spent a day charting out my relationships with everyone I've ever known, I think I'd realize that I let people slip through my fingers far too easily. I've kept my words too tightly wrapped around me, and I've let people slide. So here's to being more generous, here's to being more honest, and here's to being more. And so my hat wearing days are over, but that's a sacrifice I'll have to make.
Feb. 14th, 2007 @ 12:22 pm
» (No Subject)
And I don't really sleep anymore, not since you. I'm dreaming things, like always, but there's a difference these days - I'm dreaming them while awake. It's not that I'm saying that's better, because sometimes it's worse, but it just feels more real to me. Honestly, I'd rather take reality these days, because I've not realized it for far too long. But in lieu of that, I'll take what feels real - it's the first step in the right direction.

Sometimes, I would get asked where my inspiration to write came from. It's easy, of course, when you wake up with the lines in your head, is what I tell them. But I'll tell you a secret: it's gotten even easier when the dreams don't ever stop.

So I'm holding on and letting it all out, and I think that when it's done, I'll remember this feeling of wanting to write - it shouldn't have taken you to bring it around, but you always were my muse.
Feb. 9th, 2007 @ 05:24 am
» against the darkness
And I like to think of the space heater I've got in the bathroom not as a space heater, but something else entirely. When it's on, and it has so much to heat, and yet it's still cold in the bathroom, it's not a space heater anymore - I'm beginning to think of it as a lone soldier against the encroaching darkness. It's the last salvation of warmth, and it knows it's not enough to make everything warm, as the cold darkness creeps up around it and on everything it knows in the world, but there's this little area around it that it's managed to keep and will keep on fighting for. I'm beginning to think of it as such, creating the image in my head, and I smile to think about it.

In a lot of ways, I feel like the space heater and I are much alike, but there's two important things to take from this. The first is that I'm beginning to think in images, and not words, and that opens up a whole different medium for me these days. The second is that I'm willing to fight for what's mine in this world too, no matter how overwhelming it might be.
Feb. 8th, 2007 @ 07:16 am
» (No Subject)
And I don't even think about you, except on mornings like this, when not even my dreams are my friend. They lie about the truth and they keep the lies that were true, and they'll never let me really forget.

You always hated your father for selling out and losing his dream, and you promised you'd never be that way. Well, these days, I've sold out and lost the dream, and I'm hoping that somewhere along the way, you sold out and lost the dream too.
Nov. 15th, 2006 @ 08:59 am
» writing for points
And so things are beginning to make sense again. If you ever forget the importance of words, the easiest way to remember is to find yourself sixty points down with an empty bag and a scrabble board before you.
Jan. 17th, 2006 @ 05:09 pm
» suddenly that much
hey hey hey, I've seen your eyes always looking past the lies.


I'm careless with my words these days - there is too much and so little of it means anything. I've forgotten what things mean, I've forgotten how they matter, I've almost forgotten the importance.

But here I try, to relearn the significance of joined subject and predicate, of how the verb excites and stimulates, the adverb tantalizes with its description, how each semicolon makes me wish for a love that has been gathered by dashes and dots. dashes and dots, in each way its own unique but forever linked.

So when our goodbyes are prolonged, and I fumble helplessly for words, when every moment seems like it should be full of significance and import, and the best I can muster is this, I too will feel inadequate beside these heroes of my youth. Too many people are leaving these days, and when you leave, my world is suddenly that much smaller.
Dec. 16th, 2005 @ 05:08 pm
» If things were seasonal
So if I were to believe that love is seasonal, and what begins in spring will end in fall, and that through cold winters hearts will hibernate, frozen and waiting to thaw, then what would that matter, what would that mean?

If I were to believe that love is seasonal, and in how it is cyclical and will always repeat, and that I can be assured I will love again, souls entwining as half-lidded eyes meet, then what would that matter, what would that mean?

And if I told you that I've forgotten that love is seasonal, that I let autumn pass by without a second glance, that I've always said forever, in ways that leave nothing to chance, then that would matter, it would mean something, wouldn't it?
Oct. 22nd, 2005 @ 02:39 am
» Every Morning
I know that she worries whether or not I'll stay with her - you can see it in her eyes everytime she gets upset. She wants to know that I'm going to be worth it, that whatever sacrifices she's made, she'll not regret. She desperately needs that reassurance, because she's been hurt in the past and she knows, she knows, that if it doesn't work out, she'll need to know it would have at least been worth everything, if only for a short while.

And believe me that I want that too. There's a trick to this, you know. You either love unconditionally, believing that everything will last, or you hold something back, in case it doesn't. If it doesn't, and you've never promised forever - you'll be okay. You'll have that to fall back on. If you withhold a piece of yourself, if you reserve your strength now, you'll use it later. It will be the piece that holds you together when everything else fell apart.

But that seems self-defeatist. You're preparing for a defeat in case it comes, and by doing that, by holding something back - you're laying the seeds for your own defeat. They say it's good to be prepared, but it's even better to believe. If you hold something back - it's just as good as saying that this isn't going to work out. So I'll love unconditionally. I'll be okay. If it doesn't work out, and I have nothing to fall back on - I'll shatter. But that will be okay. I'll be alright even then. I know this.

So here's the thing, I guess. I'll promise her forever, and I'll believe it, in my heart of hearts. I'll promise her love, and I'll love her. And I think, no, I know that I can love her like that. After all, even if she doesn't realize it, the hardest part of my day is leaving her every morning.
Jul. 15th, 2005 @ 08:10 am
» Emptiness
There's this emptiness within me when I think about her leaving that I can't seem to shake. It's beginning to make me realize just how genuine the feelings these days are. Still, I can't ask her not to leave, and I'm not doing that. I just can't shake this emptiness within me. So, I'm not wholly sure how I'll handle it - here's to trusting I can still get drunk and write.

These days are going far too fast for my liking, and I'm beginning to lose that feeling that the weeks can stretch endlessly out into oblivion, that this is now and that this is forever, and nothing will change. It's not stagnation, per se, but it's really just trying to capture the moment, freezing it forever, and reliving it. That wouldn't be so bad, not these days at least. After all, I'm smiling a lot more.
May. 25th, 2005 @ 06:08 am
» The grace of silence
I've been silent here for awhile, but you'll have to forgive me. Just because I've been silent doesn't mean I have nothing to say - it is quite the contrary. It's just that nowadays, everything I have to say, I say it for one person and to one person - and I'm beginning to think that some of the things I say these days are the most beautiful things I've ever said. But then, she deserves it.

I can do this, you know. I've got things well in hand.
May. 23rd, 2005 @ 06:14 pm
» In This World
I'm putting my faith in this world, and it's out and obvious for anyone to see. I know I can, because I know you're putting your faith in me. Believe in this, and I'll hold it to be true.

There's a reason I haven't been sleeping lately, and there's a reason I don't see it happening tonight either. Still, I've made promises and there are worse ways to pass the time than not being aware of it. I'll keep unconsciousness close until I know one way or the other.

Don't worry. I'm not going to be okay if this doesn't work, but I'll be okay with not being okay. Does that make sense? It does to me, and I can handle that. I'm not giving up though, on you or on this. And neither should you.

This is honesty. This is deserved.
May. 9th, 2005 @ 11:38 pm
» This is Living
They say this is living, and I'll believe them. Here's the trick, I guess: I've always wanted a romance pulled from the movies. I've always envisioned these moments in black and white, shadows in the corridor, hushed tones with each other.

"You'll call me, right?"
"I don't know. I'm not very good at the end."
"What do you mean?"
"At the end of relationships. I'm not very good. I don't know how to handle it."
"So I'll never see you again?"
"... no. I'll call."

They say this is living, and that the pain is supposed to come - it's the part that questions whether or not what came before was worth it. If it was, then you can deal with the pain - if it wasn't, you learn and you never do it again. They say heartbreak is a part of falling in love, and even though it's the end part, it just might be the most important. They say this is living, and I'll believe them. I'm just not sure I want to live the way they want me to anymore.
May. 8th, 2005 @ 06:47 am
» Filling in the Details
So I guess I can't really be blamed when my mind fills in the details of your body late at night, as I lay there staring at the ceiling through closed lids that are far too awake. And to be fair, when my mind fills in the details of your body, it isn't anything sexual - it's just that I feel that we'd make a perfect fit together, you curled up against me, a tangle of flesh and limbs to stave off the cold. It's the way that you haunt my thoughts - I'd convince myself you didn't exist, but my mind, it keeps filling in the details of your body and pretending you're beside me.
May. 3rd, 2005 @ 03:54 am

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