So, maybe you aren't the ultimate love of my life.
But I think I figured out what my purpose for falling head over heels was.
It showed me how love is supposed to feel.
Like, finally being able to breathe and when you are together it's as though someone turned the volume down on earth.
The sun is always shining through the rain, and feeling like you could die the next day and be fulfilled.
It showed me how happiness feels.
Now I know how it's supposed to be.
I'll always be so ******* greatful that I got to be one of the lucky humans to experience that because I know how rare it is now.
So, I'd like to say Thank you sunshine for changing my life.

Right now,
I am practicing some advice I
once read from Charles Bukowski.
If you can't write; dont.
I must be riding out a similar storm.
Everything coming out of my head
is dry, and badly put.
Everywhere I look,
it seems as though someone
shows me, I don't know what I'm doing.

The holidays have always
been romantic for me
as a poor, single poet.
But I am not anymore.
Still kind of a poet though..
That's why I always felt the need
for a couple glasses of wine
around family members who asked
about how my life was going.
But now I should feel proud to talk.
But I'm still showing fashionably late,
alone.
I don't know why we play out this relationship so differently than other people.
I suppose I let it become this way;
because that's what I thought I wanted.
Although I'm beginning to realize
I have never known what that is.

I saw myself in beautiful binding.
A hard, solid cover with medieval art
of a girl with blonde hair.
A long sad story lay within the wrinkled pages.
The story of a girl who could never
be happy.

The man I’m seeing
works third shift.
So I don’t see him very often
but we talk a lot.

The other night
he called off work
so we could spend
time together.
He said that kissing me
makes him feel better
so he needed to skip.
And we did a lot of kissing
as well as other things.
I wish he could
call off work more often.

Laugh until we think we'll die,
Barefoot on a summer night
Never could be sweeter than with you

I can remember being about seven or eight years old, and listening to the song 1985 on the radio, as I sat in the back seat of my dad's old Cadillac.
I was all bundled up, kind-of cold, waiting for the car to warm up after being inside the bowling alley for my brother's practice.
I have always been a good listener, so the lyric about wishing it still was 1985, made me think of my mom.
I wondered if she wished she could go back in time.
I didn't fully understand of course; except that I spent my childhood wishing I was somewhere else.
But now as an adult, I can almost guarantee that my mom felt like that and probably still does.
There will always be a period in time when we were the happiest, the best of ourselves.
Nostalgia is painful, and dreadful and impossible to forget about.

I guess I wish it was still 2013.

Ya know, if I hate you,
it's because you destroyed me.
I always wonder,
Man how come I don't see the world the way I used to?
You.
You stole it from me.
I know you could see it on my face, because everyone could.
I scared my mother to death because I had the word ADVENTURE in my eyes.
Every day was like a new beginning, I had so much hope, energy and love.
If I hate you it's because I was only 18.
I will admit that I was too young, naive, ready to soak in any and all compliments from men; but buzzing right by them.
A savage honey bee.

Until you stopped me.
Used me.
Tortured me.
Made me feel small.
Had me believing that without you I was nothing.. when really I was everything.

I've got a major body buzz after eating a *** brownie,
watching the X-files.

Happy bakesgiving.

Dinner is at 3:00.
My dog is napping beside me.
My house is warm, it's cold outside.

I don't know how to end this.
So, I'm going to smoke a cigarette and get ready to leave.

I dream of seeing these desperate feelings on real tangible paper one day.
Dream of being beautiful one day.
To someone who is dying to marry me.
Dream of being so much more than this girl who drinks alone on Friday nights.
Just dream. All the ******* time.
Do you?

It feels really good to know
that if you called me tomorrow
and begged for me back
I'd be able to say,
too late


*loser.

I like when I'm in your
t-shirt and you are not,
and it's just me,
you,
and the bed.

After therapy today I opened Instagram and saw he had sent me a video.
It was of him, shirtless; (his job is roofing) although I could only see his shoulders, in a car.
I couldn't have smiled more.
I sent him a photo of me sitting at the dining room table when I got home.
This began a few hours worth of sharing photos and little videos of what we were doing through out the day.
I went to the laundry mat.
He was on lunch break.
I left the laundry mat.
He began working again.
I went to the grocery store.
He was taking a break.. without a shirt again.
Then he sent a message that said,
"Cutie."
And my brain turned into a teenage girl and squealed with happiness.
Gross, I know.
We continued to message a little as he got home from work and I went to get ****.
Now I'm at home having already had one glass of wine and now I'm having a beer, hoping to hear more from him, or maybe receive another picture.

He's so good to me that if I think about it enough I might cry.
But that shouldn't be my reaction.
I should be overflowing with happiness and squealing like a teenage girl.

Picturing him standing by the candles smelling so many it makes him nauseous all because he remembered I said I wanted a new one is so sweet.
He remembered.

Like after we went to the bar and Nick said something I can't remember about us being together,
and Cainan put his hand on my shoulder and said,
"She's important to me."
It caught me by surprise.

I'm still in love with a girl I used to know. The one I would wake up and see everyday. She was so cool, and hilarious.
She loved having one hand on the wheel while the other held a cigarette.

She wasn't afraid of anything, or expressing herself which she did through pixie cuts and hair dye.

It's just hair, it'll grow back. she would laugh when people would look at her with wide eyes.

Men loved her. You could see it in their face, when they stared as she spoke, and tried to figure out where this girl came from.
Everywhere she went, she left her mark.

She isn't so easy to find anymore.
She let the world get in.
But sometimes I still see her with one hand on the wheel, a smoke in the other;
chasing the sun.

So I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that, I'm not over you.
Still. Ah. Three years.
Some times are better than others.
I hope that one day I can hear your name, and not look up.
See your face in a picture and not stare at your smile for too long.

I don't know where, and I don't know
when.

But, it's okay. I'm okay. I'll always be okay. Even if I never stop loving you.

Sometimes I really wonder
if I need God in my life.
Some kind of God.
Except I'm such an ******* that I don't
believe any religion.
I'm agnostic I guess.
But I make the worst decisions,
and my life is such a mess that I can't even walk through it.
I run, I trip and I get lost.
But, I don't want to anymore.
My anxieties are ruining my life though,
and since no human can help me...
Maybe the creator could.

I'll keep having drunken dreams
about you putting your arm around me.
I lay my head on your shoulder
and you say to someone who asks,
"this is my girl."
I love that.

You know how it is when it's just you and another person.

He kissed my fingertips
and then the palm of
my hand.
He continued up
my arm
until he pulled me
closer and
kissed my lips.
He smiled at me
with his big blue eyes
and then turned back
to his computer
and continued drawing.
He’s so affectionate,
like a puppy;
cute and scruffy.
He tells me I’m pretty
just to see me smile,
and holds my hand
on the couch.
We’ve spent the week together,
talking, and drawing and coloring.
Making love and going out
for Chinese.
I wish every week could
be like this.

It's so strange how your drunken words can change the way I see myself in the mirror.
You are the guy a girl doesn't want to resist.

My body isn't fooled by this time change.
I know what time it used to be.

My eyes weigh heavy behind day dreams of my bed.

Flannel penguin sheets, watching YouTube videos, drinking a water, and smoking a cigarette after smoking some ****.

When I finally lay down, my nose is cold as it peeks out of the covers.
My furnace still isn't working properly.

Good thing I've never been able to sleep when it's hot any way.
I welcome you, November.