Karma Larma Marma

I'm not sure I knew what I was doing when the events of my summer began to compress on me. I'm not really sure I cared in the moment. It was more like my subconscious knew my defeat before it happened. I felt it there all Summer, but I never knew it would look like this. I hope it was worth it. In some ways it was. I remind myself I'm human and that we don't always know the weight of our mistakes until it's done and can't be taken back. I finally have everything I've wanted all Summer. But I sit here on a bench next to a spider and he's telling me I stole this happiness. I debate squishing him. Instead, I walk away and tell him to let me be, he looks at me knowingly and I think he finally understands.

Don't forget I love you too. I made a choice. That choice wasn't you.

But,

Don't forget my friend,

I love you too.

You wouldn't think Southern Cal would be this warm in January. I step off the plane and feel a cool breeze, the sun is shining. You get out of your car and open the trunk, lift my bags in, and only when you're done do you look at me. 'long time no see', you say smiling, cupping my face in your hands and kissing me carefully, intentionally, like a precious gem that might break under the weight. When we pull into your driveway I climb over to your side, 'What're you doing crazy girl?'. 'I just needed to be closer', I say with a sneaky look on my face. You aren't like me, you do things with precision, with thought. Not that I'm thoughtless, my heart just thumps louder than my thoughts. You touch all my bruises, 'crazy girl you need to take your vitamins.' You are always giving me vitamins and scolding me like a child when you see a new bruise surface on my skin. It used to annoy me. But now that I know you I see that you are worried about me. So many lost loved ones, such a burden to carry alone. So I take my vitamins like you tell me to, and I go on runs and I drink enough water and I quit drinking diet coke. 'I don't want you to die', you say to me one night. We lay tangled in your sheets, still wet from the shower and I trace the lines on your face with my fingertip. 'One day I will, not today, and not until I'm very wrinkled, I've made a deal with God' I say smiling. You don't look convinced. I don't think diet coke will give me cancer or that if I skip my iron intake my blood will stop pumping. But I do as you ask. I do it because when holidays pass and your sad green eyes look to me for comfort I want you to seek solace in knowing that I am well and you won't spend a holiday without me. Leo, you are so very lost on how loud your heart really thumps. It's not lost on me though, I know you. 

I hear you friend, the love in your voice, the concern. But these are my feelings, I can't apologize for it and I can't make the decision you would make. I'm going home with him. Following him into his house, taking a deep breath of Ocean air before I pass the front steps and I'm going to be brave. I don't know if I'm sure about him, I may never be, but I know this is where I'm supposed to go. I hear you, but I'm not wrong about this. Trust me & let me trust me.

One Day

I want to believe you. I want the words 'I'm ready' to be true. You call me your small spoon because I can't sleep without your arms around me. I weigh the outcomes if I give you a second chance. The first thing that surfaces from memory is the spot on my shoulder that you always used to kiss when we collapsed out of breath from making love in the middle of the night. Sometimes I touch this spot and close my eyes to help me remember your smell, your mouth, to help me remember you. You tell me you have changed, that you're done pushing me away, that you finally grieved the death of your mom. You tell me you miss watching me brush my teeth. I laugh, tears pooling in my eyes, and realize I miss you too. I remember telling you to let me in, and you stood there with your arms crossed, face un-telling of any emotion, the words 'one day' making my heart sink. Now it's one day, and I don't know if it's too late for us. I love you. But I don't know if 'one day' is enough. My dad once told me to 'try, try, try, and when the other person quits trying, you try for the both of you, and when you've exhausted all the try you have in you thats when you leave.'

Not ready for one day, but not ready to quit trying. Not ready to leave. I love you too much Leo.

Promises Made In Black & White

I miss watching you brush your teeth, and your elbows, I miss those elbows. I miss my little spoon.

Leo, you never let me watch the fireworks at midnight, you dragged me across the happiest place on earth and while you were holding my hand I was looking behind me to see the colors. You never enjoy the colors.

I see in color now, I promise.

That was months ago, when it was still warm and I was at the edge of finally being happy without you. I remember that conversation and I wish I could go to that time and place and tell that sweet girl to walk away. I wish I could tell her run. But she didn't. & the boy, he never kept his promise. 

Don't be afraid, be happy instead.

Can't I be both?


OK, then be both:)

But , you dont understand. You are what is making me afraid.
You have never understood.

The Relationship That Just Won't Die

I think back to the night you told me you would never love me, would never feel the same as I do for you and how sorry you are to do this to me. I thought we were moving in together, I thought you picked me. But there I am in a pile of tissues and tears. By the end of that pitiful week my anxiety medicine is running close to empty and the bottle of wine we bought together has long been drained. When I finally open the windows, get dressed and move on with life your name pops up in my email, my phone, and my facebook. Periodically you want to ask how I am or share a useless fact. When I realize I'm starting to be pulled back into you I tell you to leave me alone and that nothing can be undone. Goodbye is what I say. I'm unsettled by these encounters and when I recover from the strength it took to reject your presence in my life you again start a war with the part of me that is trying to un-love you. You tell me you'll see me in California. Confused, I ask "what do you mean?" You tell me you are also staying at the M hotel in September. Panic creeps into my stomach and into my throat. The universe is being much too forgiving of you, allowing you to steal these moments of mine. It's getting harder to keep pushing you out.

If Only...

If only we were caterpillars. I would wrap myself into a cocoon until winter was over. We would share the same tree branch and swing in the soft winter winds. When spring came everything would be new. We would wake from our dreams and fly away. Just you, and I, being butterflies. 

The Summer of Goodbye

You told me you'd never give up on me and asked me how I could on you. I never knew you planned on staying. So I made space for you.

Maybe too much.

I was still holding your hand when you walked away. 

You made the wrong choice, but finally, I let go.

My phone screen lights up and your name appears. 

'I made a mistake'  'what can I do?'

You can 'be well'

Goodbye Leo. 

Love. 

Goodnight You

Sweet girl, rest your eyes. It' been a long day. Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be brighter and better. But it's night time now. Dream sweetly. we don't have to decide anything right now. Save it for another time, when the day is new. Love.

Friendship. Benefits. & That Pesky Universe.

     People ask me why we aren't together, why I don't want to be more than friends. I usually respond with various excuses describing our relationship as nothing more than friends (with benefits (for my mother's sake I don't describe that part)). I don't admit to how fond of your warm body I am either, the way you sheepishly curl up to me, unsure if I will accept this intimacy. I can't tell what it is I like about sleeping together, the warmth, the comfort, or if it's just you. Plain old you. My 8th grade playmate. My 9th grade kissing instructor, my 10th grade drinking instructor, and 23 year old friend (with benefits). 

     We play phone tag all day trying to meet up before you go back to Seattle while I stay in our home town. We finally hear each others voices but you have already left. I tell you I've just finished moving into my new place and when the line cuts out I tell myself I'll call you tomorrow. I start putting dusty books on shelves and a picture of us together at graduation falls out of one of my favorite books, "Smoke Jumper". We weren't meant to meet today and I wonder why the universe kept us apart and why this picture fell out of a book I haven't read in years. In the photo we are 18, irresponsible, wide-eyed, and full of the motivational speeches we've been hearing for the last year. We chose different paths but somehow we've met somewhere close to the middle. The universe is funny that way. So I sit down and start going through the many pictures of my teenage years and set aside my favorites of us. Prom, Prom again, graduation, snow days, rafting, and then one you took of me covered in mud after a bad start to a monday morning. My roommates girlfriend plops down next to me and tells me that you and I are the people in the movies that end up getting married. I dont argue and I don't agree, instead I smile politely and decide I'll call you back now instead of tomorrow. The phone rings, no answer. The universe is funny that way. When I crawl into bed I laugh out loud at the thought of you in a tux and I in a frilly white dress and I can't picture you in anything but your nikes, and that's what you wear to our fake wedding. You would tease me to no end if you knew what I was thinking about. But I think you would also say that Nikes look fine with a tux, I would roll my eyes and you would say that marriage is disgusting and I would reply, "yah marriage is for the birds". 

La La La Life

Life,

You are breaking my heart, taking things from me & giving them back in pieces for me to fix.
The way I choose to put them back together is usually a true mess. But also happy, sometimes a little sad.

But mostly what I wanted to tell you is that you are taking me grand places.

We’re like dancers. Our bodies making perfect shapes. Drugs fill my blood, my body becomes fluid as we drain into an echo of limbs, mouths, and sounds. I melt into you. You grab my neck, my hips, grazing your teeth down my sides and pushing my arms up with the intention to bring me deeper into you. I’m drowning in the smell of your skin, we’re drowning each other, and when I think about surfacing for air, euphoria sets in. I’m pulled from the deep by the pulsing of your fingers pressing into me until my skin molds to you. Drifting into exhaustion I exhale the things I’ve held onto for too long.

 

August

Some people don’t believe they deserve love. When they encounter it they leave the lovers silently without a peep. I wish I could take my love and place it inside of you. 

My wish is that one day you will believe in what you are, lovable. 

I find the courage to break my own heart and let you leave. I won’t wait for you, but if you come back…I’ll be the one that looks like me. You were born in August and when the sturgeon sun warms my skin I'll feel my heart wonder where your journey is taking you. Be well, Be love, Believe. 

My Gemini

Did you ever think we would be here, in this bar, together? That our beer preference would ever shift from the cheapest you can get the random guy at the gas station to buy for us? I met you 9 years ago. Your locker was next to mine. I ask you how that was possible seeing as our last names are on opposite ends of the alphabet. You admit to me that you switched with another 8th grader so you could be closer to mine. I'm more flattered than I let on. For no particular reason we are in a state of nostalgia. We've been in bars before, paid bills like adults, slept with other people, we've paid our dues - for the most part. But tonight we both remember what it was like to be 16 making out in your truck listening to Tom Petty. I ask you about Sophomore year, the year I refused to go to school for a week. I ask you how you got me to come back after 3 days. You shrug. And I thank you again for those three days you brought movies and snacks and played with my hair until I fell asleep. You made me forget that "my life was over". Now we're in a bar, spending our own money, making money at real jobs and aloud to have sleep overs that don't require your mom making sure you're in your bed and I'm still in the guest bed. We're adults now, or some version of it. I guess I never knew this is what it would be like. You're my friend, mistakes and forgiveness are a part of it. Tonight, instead of shrugging off what we've done to each other we apologize. On the walk home you put your arm around me. And I remember again what it's like to be teenage best friends, with no clue that one day we would be walking home buzzed, no curfew, and full of the regrets we try to forgive ourselves for. I love you, Gemini.

Dream State

The sky is on fire tonight. A warning burns against your back and you scratch it away. You carry your shoulders heavy and your neck heavier, keeping your head down. I watch you drag your feet down the banister, your black chiffon rippling against the ground behind you. You trace your fingers along the railing and I see that your mind is elsewhere. The costume you put on makes it hard to see you, the bloodshot eyes and swollen cheeks. But I see you. It's like watching yourself in a dream. When you watch the scene happening and have no conscious control over yourself. Your Dreams take over and go where they want without your permission. So there I am being kissed by a man who only sees what he wants to see. It's a fantasy world to you, and I'm your fantasy girl for the night. I watch you give me a once over, sipping your tonic and looking at me like a hungry wolf. I hate myself for wondering if you like my dress and the way I did my hair. I wore it the way you told me you liked it. I want to tell myself to leave. Go home sweet girl, take off your party dress, and fall asleep to an Audrey Hepburn film. But when I try to yell my warnings no words come out and I am forced to watch this dream unravel into something grotesque. When your lips linger on my neck too long I lift my head up to resist. The moon is burning bright tonight, and I see the warning I felt earlier kissing burn marks up my spine. I close my eyes and every part of me shutters as your hands rip open the seams down the back of my gown. I feel sick for wanting you, you are nothing to me.

Intamacies of the Morbid

There are ghosts next door.
Zombies on my couch.

I want to lose control, forget everything and leave this graveyard of memories. 

I let you put me in a vice in hopes that your control will mold me into a different person.
Your mouth and fingers sinking into me making my skin burn with the things I’ve denied myself in an attempt at freedom. But in this moment, I feel released from the grip of the dead. 

Bruises begin to snake up my thighs. When I feel your hands in my hair pulling hard and our hips pressing even harder I let the physical pain and thrill replace the sickness in my stomach and head. My neck feels like it might break in half, but I don't care at all. I surrender to your arms pulling me into you deeper and losing my mind beneath you. Losing control.

I force my limbs to stop shaking and welcome the raking of your teeth to the parts of me you haven’t already inflicted.

When you release my wrists from the mattress we roll into each other in shapes that don’t fit and I pace in my mind wondering if the creatures of the dead have left me. But when you say my name, I realize I’ve been in these arms before and this familiarity leaves me with regrets I may never forgive myself for. The dead are everywhere. 

James

I wrap your blue sweater around my shoulders and cuddle up to my family a little closer than I normally would to watch a show that you usually put on for them. This was your favorite holiday and you chose to leave this life before it arrived. We all miss you in our own way. We light a firework in your honor and write your name with smoke from our sparklers. I hug this family you loved so much a little tighter tonight. I ask if your soul is finally at rest, I don’t hear you answer but I feel your peace in my heart. Be well our dear friend, you are so very missed.

Piano's. Gay Men. Me + Tequila.

Did I ever think I would find myself on top of a piano singing Journey, legs hanging off the edge, drink in hand, & looking like Miley freaking Cyrus after too many drinks and poor makeup application at an awards show? No, I did not. But there I am in gold sequins and false eyelashes trying to find the groove that makes even a gay man feel inspired to put his tongue in my mouth. Oh, and what soft lips he had! Usually I'm the girl who has a couple drinks and grabs a cab by 12. Not tonight. Maybe it's the Moon! The Stars! Actually, its probably just the Tequila and the newly single "bliss" I'm trying to manifest. My mantra for the night is "you are fabulous". I tell myself over and over until I believe it and there I am dancing and moving my fingers through my hair which is hair sprayed within an inch of it's life. The bar is closing. I'm not done dancing. I beg Mr. Bouncer to let us stay after hours, instead he get's my phone number and I dance barefoot all the way to the car where I continue to dance even if only inside my head. I close my eyes while we wind past houses and I prop my red toes on the passenger side dash, Seattle wind whipping past my bronzed cheeks. 

Enjoy the gifts your given, even if bad dancing is one of them because WE ARE ALL FABULOUS. 

Dear Self: Let the Crazy Go

So in an attempt to save any sanity I have left I have decided to deactivate my facebook. It is temporary but so liberating. Also, it keeps me from typing in my ex's name in the search tab followed by seeing pictures that I took of him & the girls who push the "like" button way too often on these pictures. If you ask me it just looks desperate, then again I would be the girl stalking. So, facebook is deleted. Secondly, I will stop sleeping in my bosses bed. Side note: My boss is a woman and is like a mother to me so the issue of sleeping in her bed is exclusive to the fact that it isn't healthy for a twenty-something to be snuggling up to her boss or anyone that isn't a puppy at this point in my grieving process. I should really get a puppy. For the puppy's sake, I won't. Thirdly, when the girl at Starbucks or the gym asks me how I am and noting my red puffy eyes I am going to respond "I'm great!", instead of my recent "I'm fine (sad face)", which is returned with random girl's 'I'm sorry' look and then my sudden urge to want to hug this stranger.

OMG and finally....Dear Self: When you start to cry do not drink any more vodka tonics, I know you've just discovered the deliciousness but it makes you send texts too freely and your current state of mind likes to flirt with ex flings, boyfriends, etc. Flattery from the last douchebag you dated is not what you need and ultimately ends in you realizing you now have to figure out a way to get them to stop texting you about that bra, the one with the blue lace, ya you know the one, and so do they, and imagining them imagining it after you've sobered up is creepier than finding a cat under your bed when you don't own a cat.

You ask how I am. I avoid the question and instead tell you I've been keeping busy. Reconnecting with friends. I want to tell you I'm great and that I don't miss you or our long drives and beach trips. Instead I tell you I miss California. You tell me California is great. I know it is, I wish you wouldn't tell me how sunny it is and how warm the water gets.  I wish you would tell me you miss me too.

Eventually all of the sunny days, the useless days, and the 'gone wrong' days will add up to something. The boss that treats you like shit and pays even shittier, the boyfriend that yells at you but you still love, and the mother that doesn't know when to stop giving advice will add up to something. The nights you're alone in your bed and have no lonely thought in sight, the time someone you don't want to kiss kisses you and it turns out to be lovely, and the time you throw yourself a birthday party when its not your birthday but people still light candles on a cake and you make a wish; it will all add up to something. People tell you that all the days will be your becoming. These people have children to put to bed, lovers to kiss, books with publishing dates and the knowledge that wherever you end up "you're gonna be okay".

Your Are Going to be Okay.
& When you're not, that's okay too, one day it will mean something more.

Shades of Beige...

I walk down the street eating my mint ice cream wearing a fedora; a hat I never thought I could pull off, especially while eating an ice cream. I don't feel fat for indulging and I don't feel weird or out of place in this hat meant for girls that don't care about being too trendy or not trendy enough. Today strangers on the street are giving me compliments. Sassy hat. I love your accessories. Is that a Louis Vouttin (borrowed from my bosses closet)? And I realize for the first time that maybe I was never meant to be a girl that counted calories or didn't wear hats or carry bags that I worry make me look pretentious. So I stop at the make-up counter and let the girl paint my lips coral and brighten my lids with yellow. I haven't used an eyeshadow that wasn't in the scheme of beige since the 9th grade. I tried on a different girl today and until I settle into myself I think I'll buy more hats, wear taller shoes and not give a shit if I gain a little weight because there's too much life to live outside shades of beige.

Butterflies Deserve an Open Field

The Summer Solstice is almost here. We need magic. New season, new beginnings. Place all of your wishes, forgiveness and love in a safe place and when the solstice sun rises release them like butterflies and tell them to be well and prosper.

Believe that you deserve beautiful & precious things. Because you do. Always.

Because Life Isn't Always Hunky Dory...

I knew something was different when I woke up this morning. Something was off. It started with my appetite, needing nothing more than tea and grapes. I usually drink coffee and spread butter too thickly on two slices of toast. As I watched the milk billow in my tea I got that feeling. I always know when depression is starting to seep in, it senses the perfect time to infiltrate the corner of my brain that is always poorly guarded. The call is unexpected and yet my new morning ritual of tea and grapes seemed to be waiting for it. You say you feel terrible, that you hate having to tell me this. And here it comes: the break up. The untying of late nights and early mornings spent with legs entwined and the safe feeling you only get when you pick your person, and think they’ve also picked you. Sitting in my bath of now chilly water I can’t tell where my tears end and the tap water starts. The image that keeps popping into my head is the milk puffing up like clouds in my tea from this morning. The universe was trying to warn me this was a day to stay in bed. I should've listened. But instead I separate my clothes from yours and wash the smell of you off my body and out of my sheets. Over the next few weeks we will begin to weed out the things from our relationship .The pants you left here and the shampoo I left there will be gone and the traces of me in your life will disappear. As if I was never there.

"Don't ask questions of fairy tales"-Unkown

You point out hills and cliffs as we drive telling me that’s where you’ll build your castle. We don’t say I love you’s but you ask me how I feel about decks. I ask you how you feel about hammocks. I tell you I want a secret passageway to my own secret place with a spiraling steel staircase and stone walls. Like a witches tower? And I think you know me perfectly. You tell me you’re not sure if you’ll ever want children. I’m meant to be a mother. I tell you it will be difficult for me to have biological children with my DNA coursing through there chubby little toes and fingers. The next morning there are five different colored vitamins and a glass of water next to the bedside table. You make sure I take each one and look satisfied with yourself when I don’t ask you the reasons for it. You wouldn’t tell me anyway. We don’t say I love you’s but you know I’m clumsy and impatient and I know you like these things about me just as I like your quiet nature and a love language I had never heard before until you spoke to me.

Fake It Till You Make It

I call her because she always has the answers. She wears 10 year old over-alls, a gap tshirt, target chandelier earrings and drives a Porsche to pick up milk from the store with her left hand that is anchored by a 5 karat diamond ring. I don’t always understand her but I call her because I think she’ll know how to get me out of this funk. She tells me to put on my scrubs, go to work, paint my lips, and get my ass out of bed. Sometimes we have to wear costumes to get through life. Sometimes we want to wear overalls and eat a hot dog from the gas station but you put your Kate Spade bag on your shoulder, pick up the milk from the store and look like a rock star doing it.

Never Never Land

I'm Wendy and you are all of my lost boys. She says it with pride. At some point we are all Wendy. Mom, Girlfriend, Wife, Girl that guy sleeps with, Girl that waits for the call that never comes. Even after the lost boys track dirt into the house, eat candy before dinner and don't say please or thank you Wendy continues to follow them to Never Land...

I’m living in a moment of holding my breath and keeping my tears in my body before I leave for work only to waste them on a bruised knee after I whack it into a table. It’s the kind of year you tell yourself next month will be better and then it’s worse and it’s so bad it’s almost funny. Like the universe is stuck on April 1st and your life will stop being one big freaking joke when the day is finally over. The kind of year you wish you were in Ninth grade, nobody wishes they were in the Ninth grade. I miss permission slips. Somehow everyone and there mother knows this is the worst year for you so they choose that moment to tell you they’re surprised your not done with school yet, that ten extra pounds doesn’t look that bad on you, or that your flat tire is too damaged to repair, not to mention the tweezers you find with a note that says “from mom” because she thinks the lack of grooming was simply misplaced tweezers.

She never quite leaves her children at home, even when she doesn't take them along. -Margaret Culkin Banning

She would always start laughing when it came time for spankings, groundings, and time-outs. What did she teach you? To always be good to people. I see her picture, she’s pretty, she's surrounded by kids with missing teeth. I ask you why there are so many of you? She just liked kids I guess. You’re sad today because she’s not here. You’re sad because you planned a trip for her, a surprise, and she passed before you could give it to her. She always wanted to travel. When you travel, when you love, when you laugh, when you’re good to people, take her with you. There’s nowhere she’d rather be.

Thiefs, Painters & The Universe

You are making eyelash imprints across my back with your fingertips as you move through me. We end our nights out of breath and sprawled across and under sheets that have the three-day-old proof of the hours we steal to be here. These are the lullabies I fall asleep to. As I start to dream I feel you writing words with your fingertips and painting pictures with your lips. I worry when I’ll have to sing you my Siren’s song for the last time. My sun is yellow in May and yours burns too red in August. The Universe has other plans for us. When I leave I'll keep pieces of your lullabies with me, always.

“What makes you happy? What do you want? Tell me Everything.” -Leo

Threads of me are stretching across a muddy sea of thoughts. A sea on a side of the world I’ve never been. I’m in limbo. What do I want? Bare feet, dancing, the taste of tequila on my lips, and laying next to a fire on hard sand, the taste of you. “You’re the honey and the moon” is playing in my head, and I never want to leave here. I could stay here with you, you know? I’m playing make-believe. You’re a gypsy and I’m just a runaway for the night. I could never follow you, you roam too long and far. For the next seven days I’ll pretend I’m going with you and when I crawl back into my nest on the colder side of the moon I’ll swim in these moments with you as I drift into honey-moon filled dreams. I cross my fingers, arms and toes that you’ll meet me there one day when there’s nowhere left for you to roam.

Sisterhood of the Traveling Turtle

"You confuse nurturing men with men that let you use them as a doormat", she says. Most people would feel critisized by this but it's the only way I know how to hear honesty and the only way she knows how to tell me. In an ironic stream of events we became good friends. When I met her I thought it'd be the last time, my sun is in taurus and hers in pisces. Not to mention our first meeting ended with me kissing a stranger on a washer machine and her yelling at a boy for being in jail. I'm sure both of our parents in witnessing this would've found the other to be corruptive. Yet, here I am in a locked bathroom hanging onto every word of the assessment she's making. She has dark hair, red lips and pulls it off better than any line up of latin celebrities-think Eva Mendez. She's the only person that can tell me brutal truth in a tiny bathroom and have me leave with a smile on my face. When I'm torturing myself over jealousy and confusion you bring me back down to earth and pass me a drink. I love you all the way to moons, stars and turtle constellations.