July 23rd, Tuesday
dial tone ringing
Hello?
Hi there, how are you feeling?
I feel like I'm going to explode.
My mind wont stop racing.
My heart won't stop aching.
Mistakes that I'm making
Keep eating me alive.
Just take a deep breath, tell me why.
I'm a huge ******* joke.
Ask me why again and I'll choke.
My vision is clouded with smoke
and my fragile walls are breaking.
You're not a joke, all you need to do is breathe.
Once the air fills your lungs,
you'll be able to see--
See what? That karma is a *****?
That my lies make people's skin itch?
I know that I'm absolutely worthless.
I know, I know. I deserve this.
No! No, you're not worthless! You just need--
Click
Dial tone

-The Shriveled, Dead Spider.

i lost my family again.
the happiest hours of my life turned
black with sadness again.
it's a lonesome life when you lose the ones you live for.
it's like you can feel your heart
physically being ripped out of your chest.
you can feel it break for the ones you care most for.
and for what?
because someone can't stand
that someone else around her is happy?
my heart is shredded into more and more pieces
every day.
i miss my siblings terribly.
yet i can't see them because a terrible *****
rules over the kingdom that was once
my home.
i lost them.
i lost my family.

When someone gets angry at you
for just being nice,
I wonder how bad they must truly be feeling.
I told him just a simple word of advice:
You shouldn't talk bad about people behind their backs. It's not good.
He got angry at me.
Hypocrite.
Liar.
Snake.
He raved about how I let someone talk crap about him
and said nothing.
Because I know that you're better than that.
Ben is a lost cause.
Why waste my breath on someone who wont hear?
He ranted again.
I wonder how bad he must truly be feeling.

I have vivid dreams.
I dream in color; dreams of laughter,
Dreams of sorrow, dreams that are caked in blood and fear.
Occasionally, though, the dreams I dream are muddled,
Only flashes of seemingly arbitrary scenes in every day life.
"It was only a dream. No context or meaning," I tell myself.
And then I see that same little arbitrary scene while I'm awake.
Like sitting on the floor at Grant's house in my dream,
And now in my waking life.
At the store, with Whitney jumping all around, giggling and being roudy.
I believe I am on the right path,
Because my dreams have shown me the outcomes of my choices.

All my feelings are gone.
No love.
No hate.
No anger.
No bitterness.
No happiness.
No hope.
It's all gone.

Today I went to Coffee Rush.
I got my usual caramel nut latte and sat outside.
I lit a cigarette and eavesdropped on
all the people there with their friends.
I left a while later and headed to the salt river.
I stayed there for several hours
listening to the wind in the trees and the
trout jumping to catch their next meal.
I felt at peace.
The sun was shining on my skin and warming
my heart up.
I was fine
but then you showed up.
I pushed you out of my head as soon as you popped in.
And what do you know?
I felt free.
On my way home, I stopped back at Coffee Rush.
Sat outside, lit my smoke, eavesdropped.
My phone buzzed, and
it surprised me a little bit.
I was fine
until you showed up.
I left the coffee shop in a hurry and sped home.
I felt angry, and then nothing.
Angry.
Nothing.
Angry
Nothing.
Back and forth until it exhausted me.
Now I lay in my bed
feeling nothing
except tired, but not tired enough to sleep.
I was fine until you showed up.

.

This is a questionable poem written because I have a whole bunch of curiosities.
I was sitting in my Arizona home like I do on cold days like today
when it occurred to me that
people today are severely lacking in pure curiosity.
I mean, sure, people are curious about some things;
What will happen if I mix drugs with alcohol? What will happen if I eat this Tide Pod?
I wonder if I'll die if I point this gun at my head and pull the trigger.
Sure, all those things are intriguing thoughts, but,
what about thoughts on pollution and world hunger? I feel like that's more important to wonder about.
Or, perhaps people could be more curious about who they really are.
What do they like? Do they know what they want from life? Why are they so mainstream?
These days I find that so many people are in it for the aesthetic.
That they're not being who they are.
Every person I have met has two faces; they remind me of the infamous Greek theatre masks.
I don't think anybody really know who they are, and I find that curious,
in a sad, peculiar, disappointing way.
It's curiously comical.

Are love and hate the same thing?
I think I know enough of hate
to know that it doesn't get one very far.
You can only hate so much
before you drain yourself from exhaustion.

But I think know enough of love
to say about the same.

Sometimes hate leaves people feeling
hot and angry and lastly, empty.
But love does just that too.

When someone you love hurts you,
you still love them,
but you're only angry at them.

Hate makes it really hard to let go
of wrong doings and vengefulness.
People who feel love know that
cutting the rope is just as hard.

The different thing about them though,
is that when you love someone
you would do anything in the world for them.
But when you hate someone,
especially someone you once loved,
the world does not exist anymore.

You would do anything just to see
their joy turn to ashes in their mouths.

.

What is it like to be *****?

It's like waking up and having sleep paralysis.
You can't move your arms,
you can't move your legs.
You can hardly breathe and the whole time you're panicking.
Until you just accept that you can't change it.
You've tried shaking yourself awake
and getting your limbs to flail in an attempt to move yourself.
But nothing works.

It's like waking up with a target on your back
begging boys and men to call you a **** because you
"shouldn't have drank so much."
Is 2 beers and half a cup of whiskey "too much" to you?
Did you acknowledge the fact that it might have been spiked?
Nobody believes you because all the details weren't perfect,
and because you weren't the perfect victim.

Imagine saying no 3 times after he begs you
"please, baby, it'll just be in and out, really quick."
Imagine him getting frustrated with you,
shoving you down on your back
and taking off your pants.
Imagine how it feels when he goes inside of you.
It's like your soul is ripping out of you from the inside,
and the worst part is that you think you're in love with that human.
And because of that, you don't say anything.
You're in shock that he did it,
and he takes your silence as a compliment while he brags about how "tight" you are.

Now you're dating someone four years later.
He's a new guy, and respectable.
He's sweet and wouldn't harm you, that you know of.
You've decided not to tell him about the baggage you carry around
from being a **** victim because it always causes problems.
You've since gotten over the emotional damage for the most part.
But he's started to notice the way you flinch
when he touches certain areas of your body.
The way you get quiet when he doesn't understand why you're not in the mood,
because you're too scared to hurt his feelings.

The memories of what happened to you are always going to be there.
They will never leave.

I meant to add to the last one
That its agonizing for me.
And by that I mean,
I hate not being your friend.
But it's the right thing for me, I think.
It's the only way I'll ever be able to get over it and process properly, cutting ties with you.
Because as long as I'm tied to you, I'm also always going to be tied to him.
And I don't want that.
As much as I love you.
As much as I miss you.
I just can't do it right now.

I sent him the HP link and told him it explained itself. He says he "probably will" check it every so often. He obviously isn't obligated to, so I don't know why I feel bitter right now. I have to remember that he is trying. And he doesn't even have to do that. But he's doing it because he cares. He cares. It doesn't appear evident to me sometimes, but I think I just had a revelation that he does. He told me if he didn't he would have blocked me and ghosted me out. For some reason, I didn't believe him, but I know now that I was wrong not to trust his word. He wouldn't put in the effort if he didn't. I'm forcing myself to trust him. I'm trying to now. Yes, I know. Too late. But in the time being, I have to trust that he's doing exactly what he says he's doing, because that's all he's ever done. I didn't trust him because I never trust anybody. Been stabbed in the back too many times. I thought maybe living in distrust would mean that I didn't have to feel the pain when someone tried to stab me in the back, but I was wrong. My heart just started to beat extremely fast. I thought I just saw him at coffee rush. It was only someone who carried themselves in the same way as he. That, and the messy brown hair. I have to get used to being alone again. Maybe while I have time to think and now know I have the strength to get better, I'll figure out why I didn't before. I think I'll write down what i'd say to him if I had to say good by for real. Hopefully I will never have to do that, but just in case... It will solidify the things I want to remember.

Maybe I don't want to do that just yet. I'm still trying to make up for what I've done. I also don't want to tell a goodbye tale yet. I don't want to write about it yet. Instead I'll write of the things I want to remember and have been remembering.

I remember when we first met, and my general annoyance at him for not leaving me alone. But I also couldn't keep my own gaze from him. He was just so perfectly handsome.
--I just thought about how he thought I was so beautiful. If he ever saw me bare again, I think he'd think I am ugly. I've never been particularly attractive anyway. I feel like every time he sees me now, he can only think of how ugly I am. But then again, maybe I just think I'm ugly and I'm projecting what I think onto his persona.--
I remember swimming in my pool and feeling a little jealous of the way he talked about Jessica. I also remember how indescribably awesome it felt to be so close to him. I remember our first kiss, and how delicious and delicate it was. How much my heart leapt with love for him in that moment. Being so embarrassed for saying "I love you" too soon in my eyes, but being relieved when he said it back. I remember our first fight and getting through it because we loved each other.
--maybe that's why it seems like it'll be too hard for us to get through this and make it out together. Maybe he doesn't really love me that much anymore. That can't be true. It might be... I have to give him time to get over what happened the other night. When he get's over it, maybe it will come back. I have to remember that what I did was very hurtful to him in his fragile state. It will take him a long while, I imagine. Maybe for me to put it in perspective, I have to make a scenario up to imagine how he feels. How he feels now is probably how I would feel if he kissed someone else. I would be enraged. Maybe the anger and hurt he feels overpowers any love he has, and any ability he has to forgive me. For right now.--

Jack said something to me last night about people who forgive each other. For example, me and Jack. I told jack I wasn't sure if he would ever forgive me. Jack said to "look at us. We hurt each other immensely and we still forgave each other." Jack is one of my best friends now, and I love him very much. Maybe that's how it will work out with me and B.
(I'm going to refer to him as "B" because it hurts to think or say or write his name).

I'm in a significantly better mood now.

.

A simple white flower
Blooming on a citrus tree.
It’s opulent scent, filling my lungs
In the early dew of daybreak,
Scattering my brain, feeling the lull of
Hiraeth, a sickness for home.

In the gentle whispering wind,
The saccharine perfume whirls around
Lifting my spirit towards the Gemini moon.
It whispers “Hiraeth,”
As my lungs teem with
It’s overwhelming scent,
And my soul brims with peace,
Thinking of a long forgotten home.

The last time i was home,
You wore a blanket of white snow.
You killed your leaves
And the willow trees weeped
For a summer heat from not long ago.
But I remember how your grass smells
In the autumn sun
Or after a warm summer rain.
And I remember how the clouds roll
And how the wind keeps me sane.
It was Christmas when i last came home
And the air was crisp and fresh.
Through whispy clouds the sun had shone,
And your chilly air had pierced my flesh.
But i was not cold standing on the frozen lake,
For i remember your humidity on hot beach days
When i would swim with the pike
Or fly with the gulls
And happiness engulfed my soul.
The last time i was home,
You wore a blanket of white snow.
Your winter beauty will remain permanently in my mind,
But I'll always remember you as a whole.
I don't plan on returning, dear Wisco.
Nothing against you;
I love you more than you know.
But now i think it's time for me to go.

//
Why must you always haunt my dreams?

What is love but the air we breathe?
What is love but the sun on our backs?
Is it love that drives us humans to be?
Is it love that keeps us on track?

Love is the color of the setting sun;
Blissfully orange, tomorrow's blooming begun.
Love is the taste of a bitter ***;
Down your throat does it's fire run.

Be it love that grieves us so?
Be it love that gives winter's sorrow?
It is love lost, I am told,
That makes the human heart grow cold.

What is love but the darkness of the night?
What is love but heartbreak's plight?
Love is just a waste of time
If I can no longer call you mine.

I sat on the edge of the lake
on the biggest rock by the shore.
Midnight was the clock,
starry the sky,
frozen was the earth.
I looked up from below and saw Orion's Belt.
The stars on his hilt,
to the twinkling lights of his bow.
I could see them.
I could see all of them.
In that moment, I remembered something.
A poem he said he'd written
for me.
He'd called it Orion's Belt.
I remember what it was like
to be his,
but I remember so much else now.
He's a liar.
How much of what he told her
was true?
All of it?
Maybe;
none of it.

--J

Four years ago I didn’t think I’d be anywhere.
I didn’t think I’d be alive.
But now,
I’m breathing in the ****** air quality of
El Centro, CA.
Stationed at an Airbase near by.
A few things have changed since I last checked in, guys.
I joined the navy, I work aviation.
F-18 fight attack jets.
It’s been a hell of a journey so far.
I went from Great Lakes, to Pensacola, to Virginia Beach, and now I’m here in El Centro.
I’ve made friends.
Bonds that are stronger than titanium, or steel, or concrete.
I’ve lost friends too.
From distance, from death.
But the strangest thing is, we’re always connected.
My friends that are deployed to the South China Sea, when they’re in port
They always message me about how deployment is going.
They don’t forget me.
My friends that are touring around Europe,
Saez is in Greece.
Lockhart is in Norway.
Root is in Italy.
They always message me to tell me about it.
I’m not lonely anymore.
I’m not sad.
I’m so happy.
Every morning I wake up to the sound of Blue Angels flying
And it’s music to my ears.
I have a family again. It’s amazing.

It's because I loved you
that I feel like this right now.
Why I feel like gouging my own eyes out;
why I'm shaking anxiously at coffee rush with Kylar.
It's because I realized that I loved you
and you lied to me.
I was nothing if not honest with you about how I felt
and you lied to me.
You deceived me and the told me
I was the one lying.
I settle for the untruth these last 2 and a half months
just so I wouldn't cause you strife.
And now I'm finally angry and feeling
how I am supposed to feel.
You're a piece of ******* garbage.
A lazy dog lying on someone else's bed
mooching off of everyone around you.
I don't see you being an independent adult in the near future.
I hate you.

a fish in a tank getting scared by vibration,
but it's just a dream.

he is not that person anymore;
she smiles.
she remembers what it was like to belong to him,

but she remembers so much else now;
her brain is a happy butterfly.

the sunlight through the trees pierce his mint green eyes.
snow falls around them
but she is warm.

damp grass sticks to her legs
in the warm Wisconsin spring.

he giggles at the imprint it leaves.
she smiles mischievously and finds her prey;
she throws a worm at him.

smiles and laughter warm like embers of a fire.
she remember that she used to love him.

like cats and mice she hated him,
for a long time.
he was the pesticide to her beloved spiders entangled in webs.

he lingered and she hated it.
but not anymore.

she still loves him, but as old friends love each other.
a familiar kind of feeling;
reminiscent of a happier time and better places.

like George Webber in new York;
homesick, but content.

I was strolling down my suburban street
Wandering, pondering, enjoying the day,
When, as the pavement hit my feet,
A calming thought came my way.

It floated gently to me, riding on the wind,
And implanted itself in my buzzing brain.
I know, strangely I say this with a grin,
But if falls off my tongue like a gentle Autumn rain.

If things had gone like I planned, 3 months ago I'd be dead.
I would breathe no breath to fill my lungs.
Bear no thoughts to behold my head.
Live no longer to climb life's rungs.

I would be gone, like a whisper in the dark,
Absconding into the unknown oblivion waters of Lethe.
But instead, I flew; like a skylark,
and disengaged my rusty sword from rusty sheath.

I fought my way out from that blistering Hell,
And my cold, frosted skin welcomed the morning sun.
I heard, then, what I can only describe as a victory bell.
At that moment I knew that I had won.

I dug myself out of this deep, dank grave
And found myself smiling at the trees.
My ears perk while songbirds rave,
And I accepted against my flesh, the breeze.

What is in a name?
Broken beyond repair
Revealing what was under the surface
Again and again your fists struck like a bat to a ball
Not even acknowledging what you did
Denying that anything happened
Over the course of 2 years you let me believe you were good
Now I know the truth

You're nothing but an ***.

I waited to tell her about something important.
I asked her if she knew I would tell her if anything worrying would have happened.
"Yes" she said.
I debated on telling her right then and there.
It had been eating at me since Thursday.
He had been saying worrying things for a few days.
I hadn't engaged in it,
or tried to engage in it either.
I wanted to make sure that it was the right thing to do.
I felt guilty about not telling her.
So I had to.
I don't want to be the one to hurt her this time.

One was a boy with brown hair and
crystal clear green eyes.
I thought he loved me.
All he did was hurt me.
He defiled me, belittled me,
tore my confidence to shreds.
He wore a façade and played everyone he ever knew.
He was cruel.

One was sweet and kind and wonderful.
Blond hair, a straight nose,
and a pair of ocean eyes.
He treated me like a princess.
Like I was a priceless gem.
But I guess he couldn't handle the distance,
or maybe he was just an idiot.
But soon he started lying,
and our relationship started dying.
He lied and lied and lied
until my love for him finally died.
He was a coward.

But this last one... my, my, my this last one....

She's such an ***. She has no respect for anybody.*
It's okay. You can't blame her. I can't imagine the kind of hurt she feels right now.
They talk about me as if they know what I'm thinking.
What I'm feeling.
They have no idea my state of mind,
yet they act like they do.
It's amusing, and

That's the funny thing.
I feel no hurt.
I am perfectly happy.
But the fact that you lied to me,
and that you continue to be a **** to me
is why I don't care about you right now.
If you died right now
I would shrug and move on.
I do not care about you at all.

I was on the phone with my best friend Blondie,
When she said some words that really shocked me.
She said, though I know she was joking,
"Maybe you need to stay away from people who make you feel like that,
Because it always ends horribly!"
I thought it was silly,
That she could only be kidding.
But then her words rang in my ears
Like bells doing bidding.
Love is supposed to come slow,
Over years and years should it grow.
Maybe this time it will be good.
This time I'll let love's flowers flourish slow
As it should.

Because he makes my heart skip a beat,
Nor do I mind our feet touching feet.
”Magic is of the moment,
And when the magic does fleet
There goes but the moment.”


-j

There is always a reason
why people listen to certain songs.
To certain artists.
To certain genres.
Somehow, music has this mysterious
Enchantment over the human brain.
Something that makes
Even the most aloof brain
click.
I listen to songs that I can relate to,
Or songs that have the ability to bring out emotion in me.
I listen to songs that make me sad
When I'm sad
Because the slow melodies are
comforting.
Sometimes what a person listens to,
Is a reflection of themselves on the inside.
I went through two playlists from people
I don't particularly like.
One of them must be very angry,
But he must find comfort knowing that his anger can be channeled through music.
The other one, though,
Her playlist was like
mine.
Sad songs for a sad person
About being broken, or lost.
About being able to see the future,
But not see yourself in it.
I think I understand now why it happened so quickly.
She's like me.

Laying down in bed
next to him.
Bare chest pressed against
my back.
He sighs in his sleep;
A soothing sound so
sweet.
I hold onto his thumb;
so comfortable in
my hand.
He's warm.

I think out of all the baristas at Coffee Rush,
Kenny is my favorite.
He banters with me playfully,
as he does with everyone.
But even when I am sad or under the weather,
Kenny is there to make me feel better.
With dumb jokes,
or a comforting you'll be okay. We got you.
Kenny is very wholesome
and wants nothing but the best for most people.
Kenny is good.
Be like Kenny.

A busy bee knows no sorrows.
They fly from flower to flower
collecting the pollen to spread to other foliage.
The little bees are oblivious to the
sorrows around them.
They are too busy to know.
Perhaps I should be more like them?

the memory of laying down in bed
next to him.
i can still feel his bare chest
pressed against my back.
i can still hear the sound of him
sighing in his sleep.
i can't get it out of my aching skull.
a horrid sound so
wretched.
i grip my hands tightly together
to comfort myself.
i'm cold.

I sped down Lindsay road going 15 miles over the usual 45.
"I'm still playing, just on the phone. I have my mic turned off now."
I sped even faster.
I felt my eyes glaze over and I saw red.
I never really was one to drive so carelessly,
but when he said that in the discord chat,
I felt cold.

When the house is on fire,
Do you wait around and discuss the fire,
Or do you get out of the ******* house?
See, a rational human would smell the smoke,
Or feel the heat,
Or hear the alarms going off,
And tuck tail and run.
But me?
If you told me to stay in this blazing fortress,
I would.
If you told me you needed me to stay, until there was
Nothing but ashes around me, I would.
I'm a sucker for pain, everyone knows that.
Even if it hurts me, I'd still do it for you.
I know that's not healthy,
But I love you.

Today my mind is filled with the smell of
the burnt oak tree on
cranberry road.
The earth around the tree has regrown it's grass
and the dirt no longer smells like
melted metal and plastic.
The air no longer smells like smoke,
yet all my nose smells is the aroma of
burnt flesh.
Of blood and seat leather.
The fire still burns my skin when I think about it.
There's an empty hole in my heart
that he left when he flew through the stars and back
over the moon.

I'm going to take the time today to think about the things that I like about him. From physical assets to his personality traits. I'm really going to think about it. I'm going to put my phone on airplane mode today. (Gotta have that handy dandy lowes app).

A forethought: If we got back together, I never have thought about the things that I would change sexually for him. I never gave him head enough, and I know he likes it a lot. I'll do it more often on the chance that we'll get back together someday.

Back to the things I like about him. I guess I'll start off with physical.

Its hard to know where to start.
He has almond shaped eyes with long spidery lashes. Sometimes I get lost in their deep cappuccino color. They make me blush. (I blushed tonight when I looked into them before he kissed me). I especially love it when he wears light blue. It makes them pop. He has a strong face. High cheekbones and a wide jaw and strong chin. God he's so ******* handsome. And his skin on his face is textured, but I love it because I think it's unique specifically to him. I think that his smile, though, is something that will warm me up every time I see it. His real smile. It reaches across his whole face, and up to his eyes where they crinkle at the corners. What did Hunny call it? A 'John Denver' smile, because it lights up the room. She's right. I can't help but smile when he smiles.

It's late now. 10:32 PM. A while ago, I got back from brandon's house. We had ***. Rough, amazing ***. Maybe a little passionate too. We both wanted it pretty badly. We both wanted to get our feelings out. He said he didn't really get any out, but I know I did. At the end, when he finished, it took me all I had not to cry. All of my bad feelings left me when I orgasmed. I thought I would be left feeling empty like I normally did when I used *** as my #1 outlet. I wasn't. Everything I had ever known about being happy was what I was left with. I wanted to cuddle up on his chest like I normally do, but I didn't because I knew he didn't want that. I don't even think he wanted me to stay for as long as I did. I wanted to snuggle with him as a way of silently saying "I love you" to him without actually saying it. But I didn't because he would have been uncomfortable. I liked the way he kissed me. He started off gently. Maybe passionately too? I don't know. They weren't just empty kisses. They had feelings behind them, I just don't know what they were. I wish he would have elaborated more on the feelings he let out. Maybe he'll think about them tomorrow. Maybe he'll tell me if he wants to. He made a comment about me being bi. He said "Oh, so you wouldn't date me if I was a woman?" He said it to be funny, but that's not why I remember it. He made it seem like... I don't know. He used the wrong tense, I guess. Like we're still together, even though I know that he didn't think that. He didn't mean that. (For the record, I would still date him either way). I don't know. I don't know anything except that giving him up was by far the biggest regret of my entire life thus far. I've done many regrettable things, but this one takes first place. But for now, not having me around that much seems to put him in a better mood, and whatever makes him happy is something that I will do.

I have to sleep now. I'm so tired.

If you read this, I love you.

I am Alice.
Today I woke up where the grass is greener
and the sky is bluer.
The sun shines brighter and illuminates
The shadows and the vile creatures within them.


Floating
                 Back through the sky like a cloud;
                 racing towards eternal life,
                
up
                 to the warm earth.
                 I try to see myself in
the
                 world we live in today.
                 I can see myself running towards it,
                 fast like a
rabbit
                 chasing after the scent of carrots.
                 Chasing after life outside of the rabbit

hole.

"All I do is work
Money money money
Getting hoes
Money money money
But i have no money
All i have is sadness"

Could it be--
I had seen him before
Engulfed in the blazed sun?
Atop a building
In the summer air with the wind
Blowing through his auburn hair,
Oh, what a dream!
A water colored blur--
Subtle and bright but detailed
By each individual brushstroke.
Oh, what a dream!
What an enchanting light!

Four years ago, I felt like the world was ending.
My friend Christina Grimmie was murdered on June 10th.
On June 12th, 50 people were killed in a night club.
Four years ago 51 people lost their lives to gun violence.
Every year since then, around this time I'm eaten by a certain sadness.
It's hard to describe.
It's like I can't breathe, or I'm taking in oxygen and it's never enough.
It's like theres holes in my lungs and the air is escaping.
Never quite full, never quite the same.
I miss her.
I feel the Pulse family's pain.
Most of all, though, I feel sick.
Like every time I think about what happened I want to *****.
I miss her.
Four years ago and I miss her more and more.

Admittedly, I still read some of your poems.
I did, just now.
You wrote that sometimes you think I forget that you were his victim too.
But.
He never ***** you.
He never abused you.
He never made you feel like you were worthless,
Always the last choice,
And he certainly didn't take your best friend away from you.
I remember picking out your white wedding dress with you.
I remember how beautiful you looked in it,
With it's laced back and fitting form.
I remember being happy that you were happy.
But in the room, as you tried it on,
I also remember feeling a little betrayed.
A thought nagged at the back of my mind:
"How could she do this, knowing what he's done?"
I still don't quite understand how you can be with him.
I don't know what the appeal is.
How could you walk around town holding onto his arm
Without thinking "they know what he is?"
Why do you want to be the girl who married a *** offender?
Why do you want to explain to your neighbors that your husband is on the registry?
I just don't get it...

funny
how she says that you're
a different person.
you
have changed for the better;
a new you.
but
all i can remember is the vicious
version of you.
how
extremely judgmental you were;
building confidence.
the
things you belittled me for;
uncontrollable.
she
says you loved me truly
but not enough.
why
didn't you treat me like you
treat her?
you
were fighting your own demons,
which ones?
me;
you were fighting with me every night
all night.
taking
your issues out on me like they
were my fault.
i
spent my days feeling sorry
for you.
i
should have felt sorry for myself and
forgotten you.

It is moments like these
as the sun sets behind the horizon;
be hind the mountains and the clouds
and the city buildings,
that I realized how incredibly luck I am.
I am alive to see the beauty of the pink
orange-yellow and perrywinkle sky.
The way the palm trees cast their shadows
and are silhouetted against the stars.
To be able to make mistakes and learn from them.
Owning up to a mistake is possibly the most mature thing that one can do.
I have made many terrible ones.
And I am owning up to them all.
To right the wrongs,
to better the worse.
I remember when I thought life was simpler
than life truly is.
Sharing cigarettes with Mandie,
walking to Lauber's with Victoria,
sitting on my porch at night and pondering why I am alive.
It was somehow easier than it is right now.
I miss it...

The last one was my perfect prince.
The one I dreamed about so long ago.
His brown hair and brown eyes matched what I saw.
His stature and his features were precise.
I thought I met an angel,
but I met the devil himself instead.
Not only did this one hurt me
but he broke my trust.
The devil can be beautiful.
He can ring as honest as a bell
but drip lies like a poisoned dart.
This last one was a nightmare disguised as a dream.
He was a mix between the first two.
Sweet and handsome,
but violent and misleading.
Helpful and happy,
but hurtful and cowardly.
I loved him.
With everything that I had.
And he was just the ******* devil.

This past week has been a blur.
A range of emotions from
anger
sadness
confusion
to
happiness
excitement
bliss.
For nearly 3 months I prayed he would come back.
I loved him, and still do.
I knew we could work it out.
I believed so firmly that we were the ones for each other.
And here we are,
a week after getting back to talking.
It's almost like nothing has changed.

He's ignoring me now. I guess I deserve it. I wish I had the guts to block him so that im not tempted to text him or snap him. SO he could live his life now and be happy without interference from me. I wish I knew how to explain why I did what I did, why I broke up with him, in a way that he would understand. I wish he understood my feelings. Or made an effort to. But it's not reasonable for me to ask that of him. Maybe it was unreasonable to ask him to talk to me when I had no one last night. Not one of my closest "friends" answered my call. not one. I was alone and scared. And not a single person answered. I called every person that I thought I could count on. Bobby, Carolyn, Victoria, Luke... I even texted Mark and asked him to wake her up for me. I guess I know now.

I'm pretty sure he hates me. If not, then I know he strongly dislikes me. I feel burnt out today. I don't want to try today. No matter what I do, it won't make a lick of difference to him. I could become exactly who he wanted me to be, and still he'd whisper "too bad." I could become the nicest person in the world and still he'd say "too bad." You haven't got a clue what it felt like to hear him say "Well Mariem is being to me right now what I wish you were to me a month ago." And what's that? Stable? Perfect? She's perfect isn't she? A perfect little Mormon girl for him to be friends with. I wonder if he can hear the jealousy dripping off my pen. I wonder if he can hear me ******* it back into my body because I don't want to be jealous of someone I don't know. There's no point in being jealous. It's a vile and destructive disease.

I want to go home. I don't want to be anywhere where there's a reminder of him today. I don't want to love someone who I know hates me. Ive been in this situation with Mark. I loved him, and he hated me and I ruined myself loving someone who didn't love me back. I feel exactly how I felt four years ago. I don't want to love someone who doesn't love me. It ruined me. It will again. It will.

I

will never forget

how he

used us both.

I

will never forget

how

you forgave

a boy so vile.

Call

me friend, but

betray me over and over.

I

will never forget.