Post Three.

I scan my room. I see a handful of things that remind me. I see the things I don't have the heart to get rid of.. but I don't have the strength to keep. I remember once when these inanimate objects meant so much to me that I would have chosen their company over most people. It was because they were a symbol of what we had together. These objects gave me the option of spreading my feelings out instead of directing them solely at you. If you knew how much I cared about you.. It probably would have been frightening.

I browse my bed.. my shelves.. my closet.. and my drawers. I pick up.. I put down. I close and I open. I walk away to come back and find it still the same. I wish I could just box it all up and forget. I wish more that I could put it all in a bag and leave it out with the garbage. That's what I did last time I felt this way. I left it all out in the rain to wash away. But this time.. I am more afraid of letting go of these memories than I am of letting go of you. I think of these memories.. these transitional objects.. cold, lonely and neglected. And then I think.. if I don't take care of them.. if I don't keep them safe.. who will?

So for now.. its okay. But I fear the day when I pack them up and tuck them away. And even more.. I fear the day I find them again. And I fear how I will react. I wonder if I'll remember the things I swore to protect. Or if they will have faded and left me. I wonder if it will make me sad to realize I have finally let go. Or if I will be relieved to have moved on. To have let you go.

Post Two.

I believe I try my best to be a good person. But then I wonder what being a "good person" really means. Everyone has their own standards that they consider when judging a person's worth. I simply try to be genuine. Whether that means I make good decisions or bad ones, I figure as long as I am true to myself, my good nature will show on its own without much effort.

Sometimes our intentions are misread. Mixed signals and different opinions lead us down paths that others find less than righteous. And in times like these I am left looking back and wondering what went wrong.. wondering whether I was ever a good person.. and wondering whether the people who I feel have wronged me were righteous in their own right.

I have made mistakes. I have hurt others and I have tried to fix the things I had broken. But some things are beyond repair. And it hurts more to cut your fingers on the shards than it does to mourn the loss and move on. But it is hard to let go. Hard to truly believe that abandoning comfort for sanity is worth it.

This time its different. This time I am too hurt to believe that I can continuing loving this person. The person I considered closest to me. The person I trusted most. This time I can't shake it off. It makes me shiver to think the pain that racked my body last night was caused by the same arms that held me close such a short time ago. I tried to read the words aloud and I choked. I sputtered and leaked. And it was genuine. A different kind of hurt than I have felt before in similar situations. This time it felt helpless and hopeless to continue. I came face to face with the exhaustion of this task. I realized how much time I've wasted trying. I realized that the one thing I had been fighting so hard for had ultimately caused me more pain than I could ever remember feeling. I felt wronged. I felt disgusted. And as soon as it became clear to me that there would never be a single thing I could do to change any of it. That I had tried and tried again but trying doesn't help when you are up against a brick wall. Instead of wasting more time and energy getting myself to wrap my head around what was happening, I washed my hands of it.

I am better than this.

I have been denied respect and appreciation for too long. I have put myself in a position that makes me feel like a villain and a lesser person than who I really am. After being punished for months over the mistakes I had made in the past.. I feel its finally time to be freed. To realize that I am not a bad person just because one person says I am. I am fun and enjoyable. I will be loved and not lessened. I will find someone who appreciates me instead of torturing myself by enduring the abuse and manipulation of these pursuing circumstances.

I believe I was worth something once. I was a catch. I am not used or washed up, I am just lonely. It took a long time to realize that the person pointing fingers was also the cause of this slump. I am worth affection and assurance not neglect and shrugging shoulders.

You said you came back because you realized how much I cared about you. Now you say it was because you felt sorry for me. There was nothing to feel sorry for. But having someone to love you indefinitely did wonders for your self esteem. You used me for my limitless affection for you. Maybe it wasn't me. Maybe it was your guilt you felt when you saw me trying to recover. But I should not be punished for that.

Post One.

I am starting this blog because I am tired of posting my heart all over Facebook. I want people to have to look for me if they want to know what is going on with my life. Finding a site to blog on felt more like looking for a therapist. Asking for help or going to the doctor's office. It was the act of me admitting there is something too wrong in my life for me to handle on my own. I need my writing to help me. It has saved me in the past and I am counting on it now. Its funny because its more just me relying on myself to produce an answer. Answers that I can't provide by just beating my head against the wall. Feeling the same feelings and asking the same questions that will never be resolved. So, writing. Voicing things. Making myself aware of what I think. Most of the time I don't want to be aware. But I have to. And without a crutch to hold me up anymore.. here is my place of solace.

Lately I have become far too introverted for my own good. Those around me might think otherwise but that is just because I am good at hiding things. There are things I hide from myself. And those are probably the worst.

I recently went through a break up. I don't even know if I can call it that. It was more like a slow and steady crumble. A break up is something that happens all of the sudden. Something you don't expect. I always expected this, maybe I prepared for it. Maybe thats why its so hard. I never went through that important moment when you feel like your life might end without your second half. I needed that moment. I needed the sudden and non-refundable grief. Instead, I have just endured a slow and steady pressure. Like my ears will never pop. I might be deaf for the rest of my life because of this. Sometimes I feel like my head will explode but I refuse to cry. Crying makes it real. Crying makes things here and now. When I don't cry, I can say I'm over it. But I'm not. I know I'm not.

I decided to try and make positive steps to the future today. So I went to update my flickr account. Post some of my more recent artwork so that I could have something to give people when they ask me what I do. I hate when people ask that and all I can offer them is the shrug of my shoulders. So I updated.

I sorted through photo after photo. Categorizing. Artwork. Not artwork. Artwork. Not artwork. And there were all the things I had pushed to the back of my mind. The happy times we had shared. The smiling faces that were so ridiculous to us even then. The snow outside didn't remind me of you. But now it does. I had forgotten about our winter wonderland. The snowmen in the park and the breakfast we cooked on our snow day. It was nice not wanting or needing anything else but you.

And now I'm crying.

This is what I wanted, I guess. I've been waiting to let this out for so long. I never really let myself mourn the fact that I had to let you go. Which might be why I never did. You meant more to me than anything. And crying made it real. Crying admits that there is something worth crying about. Something real to be sad about. An emotion. I have been numb. Forced myself to be preoccupied by drinking and other people and hate.

Hating you. I have never hated you. But wouldn't it be easier than holding on to this. Hoping one day you realize that despite my actions these past few months that I still love you. That I have always loved you. I can't see you anymore. And you say we shouldn't talk. Probably for good reason. You were always smart about these things. You know whats best for me better than I do. And I never know whats best. Because I am just raw emotion. Rash decisions. A lot like life itself, I guess.

I tried to replace you immediately. And that made you mad. You said it made you love me less. And you said it was the reason we would never be together again. Needing you so bad that I couldn't stand alone without you. Was that a fault? I guess its the reason you had to leave. The reason you aren't coming back this time. No matter what I say.

You invited me to a New Year's Party. And my roommate told me that I am not allowed to go. That I should know it will hurt me more than heal me. But I want more than anything to see you. Everyone knows its the wrong thing for me to do. I know it too. But it doesn't stop me from wanting it more than anything. I have this dream that I will get there and you will sweep me off my feet and tell me everything is alright now. That you forgive me for the horrible things I've said and that you want to start fresh. Thats just a dream though. A lot like a fairy tale. A lie.

I have been trying to meet new people. Everyone is asking me why I would want to get into another relationship so quickly. I guess I just want to prove to myself that there could be someone out there who measures up. Who can make me as happy as you did. They tell me to sit back and let things happen. But I have never been one to wait and let things come my way. Never. So I look. And I try. And it makes me miss you more with every person I meet.

Its been so long. I don't even remember what it was like to fall in love with you. It happened so fast. It was like a switch. One day you weren't there. And the next you were. And you just never left. I loved it. I loved every moment and every bit of it. I don't want to forget. People tell me that I don't have to. But I don't see how else I can move on.

So much reminds me of you. I changed rooms. At least that way the walls can't tell me what I'm missing. When we finally went our separate ways.. I scanned those walls for your pictures.. So I could take some comfort from tearing them down. But there were none. I had known it was coming for a long time. Known that you were leaving.

I guess I went off the deep end. This past week of sobriety hasn't been an easy one. I have had to face the things I've been neglecting. You. Just you. No replacements. Just holes. And tears. And not having you.

Done crying.

I suppose the purpose of this post has been completed. I felt something. Felt something vicious and awful and real. And I felt it completely.