goodnight, dear void.

i feel remarkably 13 again. there’s this backwards motion that seems to be taking place, and i can't find anything to grip. but i suppose that’s how most things happen, when we’re in the other room. or other side of the street. or other side of the bed. or other side of the movie screen.

there was something once familiar, something hopeful, and some sort of genuine light that seems to have vaporized. the truth is, i don’t know if any of this is worth any of the that anymore. i know years ago i would’ve told myself differently, even just a few months ago- but the farthest completion of thought that i can reach out to is either five and a half hours away, or 2,000 miles in the past. the not so very distant past.

and i love thoughts! i love filling out forms, and scheduling things. i love having ideas and writing thoughts down. it feels like each word begins, and are finished before their completion. i know it doesn’t make any sense, but my eyebrows are tired from the frowning and my stomach is sick of the upside down turns it reluctantly takes whenever i see the newest of things that feel like the oldest of terrors.

there are horror films, and masks, and bloody make-up. there’s things that jump out at you, and ghosts in movies. there are loud noises and creepy whispers. there are thriller novels, eerie moonless skies, and of course- things that go bump in the night. things that stare at you from all angles. but fear, is suddenly not so terrifying anymore. and there is so much work begging to be done.

not meaning to go all Taylor Swift on you, my invisible audience or the lack there of, but it all leads up to the word; heartbroken. something i relied on, disappeared. something has restored an amount of vulnerability, and now i feel incredibly exposed. maybe i was looking the other way, or maybe i lost myself inside of something that was never really there to begin with- but something is now different.

i used to see the stars held captive in the blue, and i used to hold hands still that wanted to shake. there’s no allure in the dark taste or the smell i used to crave. i stretched out, and found it had all packed up, and left.

but the unvocalized bits slithered through my fingers, and blamed themselves in ink. folded fibers devoured the words that i never knew i had to say. probably discarded, and most likely piled up with all the rest. but regardless, they’ve left me now- and the hole feels a little less spacious.

i have discovered: i long for that contentment. i desire that sunrise that only i and one other can see. i crave that displacement that brought me right back to where i should’ve been. i hunger for the still trees and their shifting leaves. i want the frosty windows that only i and one other see out of. i thirst for partnership and the idea of continually being on the same page. the same book even! i wish for the weightlessness of falling sideways, and i am pleading for an act of stillness. i know i’ll find it. there would be no such desire if there were not a resolution.

or gosh, just a little time. just a little time before all waters are disrupted. just a little time before every bit of the clarity once achieved is certainly forgotten. just a little moment, or two.

but this use of words is what brings me back to the beginning. grass, trees, stars, sand, waves, moon, gravel, porchlight, fleece, rough fiber, feather necklace, empty beer bottle, and a-sigh-of-relief. enamoured with the world above, and the world beside me. and i can’t find an antonym strong enough. and if i could, i’d use it to jab and sever that painful verb from my existence. the one that led to phrases, stories, and aspirations.

and i can’t be brought back anymore. not when there’s no one, and not one thing to meet me there. the objects, the things embedded in the ground and the sky are lost. i have learned this lesson in years passed, and a mere few weeks ago- and still, i can’t quite compete. magnetic, fascinating, attracting, intriguing and mesmerizing.

i want to tell myself it’s only because it’s a late hour, and that morning always brings a different type of exhalation. but i know better.

even if there were an option.

we often do things to make ourselves miserable.

we eat until we become sick. we watch movies that will make us feel a certain sickeningly lonely way. we look at pictures of things we cant have, places we can't see, and people we will never know again. we forget sunscreen. we drink til we puke. we spend money we'll never have. we lunge head first into a pair of arms, unfamiliar or familiar, as if we're diving into oncoming traffic.

the jump, the dive, the lunge- is all the happiness and euphoria there is to find in something like that. we are obsessed with the fall. when, and if, we land; we run. or we are run from.

i used to think i wasn't a negative person. and maybe at one time, i wasn't. i think at one time i knew the importance in the jump, and the rest came as it came. i remember when i woke up on that couch, and sat up. you know how when you fall asleep somewhere unfamiliar, and you wake up terrified? i woke up startled, and unnerved. there was a huge, wide window with a world's view to the illuminated blue sky and it's puffy white clouds held tightly captive within their own will. i tried to see everything from the perspective in that one moment, but all i could do was fear. and that's not me at all. i've taught myself to fear, and i've woken up startled.

i guess there's only so much hiding you can do. only so many covers to protect you from what's no longer there, and the space that now exists between how your skin felt there and how it no longer feels at all. i can't stop the relentless picture show that continues to run behind my eyelids. friends help. family helps. movies help. books, coffee, wind and rain, cold mornings, clouds with stars, glasses of wine, new shirts, an orange kitty, running, blocking it out, letting it consume you, letting things drift from organization, the music, writing- it all helps. but what im beginning to realize, is that something through me or just myself facing the mass of it, must cure it.

so without the running, and the hiding, and the false hope- im standing in front of the disaster site with eyes wide open. facing it with a clear head and cold air beside me is the only way to truly see what has unfolded while i've been away. or before i woke up startled. no damage has been done by other people, and i can literally feel that for the first time. the damage is within myself, done by myself, and must be healed by myself. well, myself and the one person or "thing" who has always proven to somehow care in these days ive known.

sometimes it takes something like this. something like this, that can make you see yourself with a pure honesty that is the purification you needed to do on your own. and the term 'on your own' comes with every sting of loneliness you can imagine. but that's okay. the loneliness can teach great things, and can wake up bits of you that have lost their pulse in the fight.

and, i'm terrified. a new city, the newest me to add to the collection, and an insane amount of fear. im absolutely petrified of this new life that's about to begin in less than a month with or without me- and i have only once choice, but to be completely and totally there. in every second.

so these things that we take pleasure in, the things that burn us and overwhelm us- these things that make us miserable- will never fade, and never cease until fully dealt with. until full faced. until fully confronted and fully recognized as full of power but not more powerful than the power that lies within you. within me!

and to let yourself be known by someone else, and to take a chance to truly know someone else- is always a risk.

what's funny about it all, is that this summer has been insanely amazing. at times it has hurt so terribly bad, but so much of my fall has been caught by a new group of friends who seem to mean more than i allow anyone to. my dear, amazing Pelly family have made me so wonderfully happy- and certainly in times of need. i am so fortunate to have had this summer back at home. and while other bits of my life- bits that my heart cherishes more than i could ever write and admit- have fallen apart, i have had something to count on in those friendships.

anyways. in short, lesson learned. you can let yourself fall apart within yourself and you can hide. these things take minimal effort. and while the strength inside my mind, my heart, and even my fingertips is fading and almost non-existent, i am choosing to face what's gone wrong within me, and what can be salvaged from my months, and possibly years, of neglect. and oh my, it still hurts. the silence is almost more than i can begin to understand, and the inability to reach out to anything is almost suffocating.

i'll never go as far to say that i'll never take a chance with that bit in the center of my chest again, but i absolutely must let people love me. i must not stop loving. i must accept words that are kind, and accept those that feel most unkind. i must accept everything! everything with gratitude, and i must let this remainder of this summer overwhelm me as it already has, and i must face the fear that comes with this new city, this new school, these new people, and all things unfamiliar.

and, so it is.

star mile.

star mile, joshua radin.

Old doubt and a girl by your side she's feeding your pride
As you go for a ride
Down the star mile
World's rise as she lets you come in
A duo begins to the hollywood din
Of the lonely

And all the gold dust in her eyes
Won't reform into a ring
You had and lost the one thing
You kept in a safe place
Remember the face
The girl who had made you her own
And how you left her alone

All's well at the base of the hill
You might need to fill
A prescription to kill
Off the sirens
Look down from your tower on high
And take in the night
Look her right in the eye
She'll listen

And all the gold dust in her eyes
Won't reform into a ring
You had and lost the one thing
You kept in a safe place
Remember the face
The girl who had made you her own
And how you left her alone

Life comes to those that'll choose
The regular news
Over playing the blues with the light on

And if you burn the road that'll lead you
Back to her in time
I'll watch you turn to stone
Can't find the sublime
She's moving on without you
The tide breaks
You watch the stars fake
They gather you back to their homes
I guess it's better than being alone

summer.

or better yet, life after college.

i'm completely and willingly wedged in a very strange place.

i am twenty-three. i am spending the summer in my hometown, (hopefully) saving up money, reading whatever books that i want, spending as much time as possible chasing my nephew around his kitchen and laughing at him while he dances, eating short lunches and dinners with my boyfriend who has a completely opposite (and hectic) schedule as me, riding my bike, serving people popcorn, and watching movies for free after hours. taking naps with my orange kitty and teaching him that the car is not a scary place.

my friends have jobs. my friends are engaged. my friends are married. my friends have children. my friends are still in high school. my friends gossip. my friends are new. my friends are old.

i wake up, and have breakfast with my mom. i spend every night wishing that i was out on some adventure, but it feels as though the adventures have gone cold. the weather has maxed out at 80 degrees so far, and i got a sunburn one friday.

i am making mistake, after mistake. i'm trying to learn some sort of lesson that falls from the pieces that are left. the mud has dried up. the deer have now gone. i don't pick the grass to smell as i drive past. that floor no longer needs me, and the fan above regretfully spins the same. i'm beginning to hate the light that reflects from porch lights, and i have not yet visited that pavement.

but, there is a fine peace in the blue of those eyes. an infuriating happiness in the belly laughs that come from almost nothing out of the ordinary. the thrilling beginning of the way things could possibly end.

there are nights, and summer doesn't feel like it should. well, at least it doesn't feel like it used to. and lately, i can't help but want everything to feel the way that it once did. i can't seem to appreciate the moment- there doesn't seem to be a moment to appreciate.

there has been a ridiculously pretty sunset, and a sunrise that i seriously needed. i could sit there, and watch the small town lights blink and gleam all by my lonesome or with someone i trust. late night words scrambled with emotion seem to alleviate the pressure, and ignite something that will
never be understood.

there is ice cream, and orange cream soda. windows rolled down and the lake tapping our feet. frozen yogurt covered in gummy bears and marshmellows, lunches on picnic tables, and fruity energy drinks. giant sunglasses, sundresses, and purple nail polish. there is beer, there is wine, and there is whisky. there are short lived fevers, and blinks that affect the heartbeat. stares that burn past clarity and somehow, there is a clock that is documenting, ticking, and capturing all the things our silly little minds tend to leave behind.

now that i think about it, and now that i'm writing it out- maybe these days are resembling some kind of summer. not a summer i've known before, or a summer i expected. but, a summer. my mistake is always predicting the summer months, and being let down in the easiest of ways. and honestly, what else could i want, besides a summer that is unlike any i've known previously.

and certainly, forever young.

Day #9: Food & Drink of Saddlebrook

Day #9: Food & Drink of Saddlebrook

on those rare occasions where we didn't go out to eat, we cooked. we aren't the biggest fans of cooking, so we had a few regulars that we clung close to:

1st meal ever in the house: tacos!

on one of those days when class needed to be skipped...waffles and eggs!

keely's legendary syrup:

glasses are some sort of luxury we don't need.

mmmm.

and,

which led to:

the ol' ensure days.

and the other items in our food pyramid:

and of course the burnt chicken i always cooked. still haven't mastered that one.

"Great eaters, and great sleepers are incapable of anything else that is great."
Henry IV of France.

well, that's a little true about us at least.

:)