Cali Girl

Neatly folding my gauzy swimsuit coverup, I tucked it into the corner of the suitcase and sighed. I had done it. Every square inch of the oversized cheetah print rolling case was occupied by a perfectly coordinated sandal, blouse or handbag. 

The notion that I was overpacking briefly crossed my mind before fading away. Sure, I would only be in San Diego for a handful of days, but as I saw it, I had to be prepared for anything. After all, this was the trip I’d been pining for— a relaxing respite by the ocean. If I felt it necessary to cram every item I could think of into a suitcase that would consequently become too heavy to lug down the stairs, why not just go with it?

I laughed to myself as I riffled through the muck and mess of my desk drawer in search of a luggage lock. All this fuss over a trip I had not too long ago felt lukewarm about! It’s true; when the opportunity to travel to the all too familiar beach town was initially presented to me, I had accepted it, but not without strong apprehension. It was certainly no coincidence to be offered a free trip to California right on the heels of being instructed to “go home”, but this was also a trip I’d wished to avoid— permanently.

My relationship with my home state has been rocky for many years. Though it is the land of my birth, a physical manifestation of all that I hold dear, and the primary backdrop to my most treasured memories in life, it is also the final resting place of my naivety. It was during my last visit to the Golden State that I had my rose-colored glasses slapped clean off my face. My friends were not my friends. My family was not my family. My life, as I knew it, had been exposed as a well orchestrated lie. It hurt to finally see the truth about the people I loved, so I left, vowing to never return. 

Everything and everyone was gone. I was emotionally homeless. 

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“Go Home.”

A most happy new week to all of you! I hope everyone had a great weekend. If you caught one of my last posts, you may recall that I recently went on vacation. I had promised to share some insight that I gained during that time, so here we are.

I suppose the most important thing to know about my getaway is that it was an unexpected answer to a sorrowful, but heartfelt prayer. 

As I’ve previously touched upon, the latter half of this summer has been a considerable challenge. From trying to plan and launch new business ventures to pursuing a healthier, sustainable lifestyle, Summer 18 has been a physical, emotional, and mental workout beyond anything I’ve experienced before. 

Though my path hasn’t been neatly paved and the night has lasted far too long for my liking, I have faced so many fears and jumped over so many mental hurdles this year. It’s been scary, thrilling, inspiring, motivating and gut wrenching all at the same time. Some things haven’t worked as well as I had hoped, while other things haven’t worked at all. These particular moments have sent me to bed crying more than once, forcing me to ask myself, “You’re performing for an empty stadium. None of this is working. Why are you still trying?”

I continue to try because I have to. If I give up, there is nothing else left for me. I know that. Falling flat on my face is preferable to the nothingness that lies just beyond the inability to keep going. The possibility of finally succeeding at something—no matter how slight—keeps me on my feet. If that’s all I’ve got to show for myself by the end of this, then it’s alright by me. At least I kept going.

Rewinding back to the end of June/early July, I was utterly exhausted. Before this point, everything was going swimmingly. Full of energy and ready to conquer the world, I was blowing through my to-do lists like it was nothing. The newness of everything was invigorating, and I genuinely reveled in the challenges I was facing.

Then I crashed. I don’t know what happened. It was as though someone had suddenly pumped the breaks, sending me right through the windshield of my own life. 

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My Beautiful Twin

Mirror, mirror on the wall

You say I’m fairest of them all

But if it’s so, then may I ask:

Why my sole friend’s this old cracked glass?

You aren’t the glass, not quite the shards

A twin of sorts—we share twin scars.

This fractured frame is where we meet.

Two halves made whole, but ne’er complete.

You’re a fickle friend, coyly fragile too

With your hollow chest, static mood of blue

But I trust you, love—it’s a plague most queer.

You tell come-hither lies I’m so desperate to hear.

If looks could kill, you would stand on trial

for that intravenous strychnine smile.

You’re a siren’s song, boasting crimson lips.

Where’d a little girl find such carnal hips?

Who are you when you’re not with me?

Are you strutting and prancing for all eyes to see?

They claim to adore you, but it’s simply not true.

If they can’t love me, then they’ve never loved you!

You seem nubile—yes—with your wanton ways

Til you catch your prey and your facade frays.

You flirt with fire, then flee the flames

A coquettish child playing grownup games

When they find you out, you tuck tail and hide.

You return to me and I nurse your pride.

But it won’t last long.

It’s a passing phase.

History repeating.

It’s a cyclic maze.

I am your mind, but you are my face.

If you’re my idol, I’m your saving grace.

This glass between us is a private hell

for the sides of me no one knows too well.

© C.M. 2018 All Rights Reserved

 

Today’s poem was originally written several months ago. After tweaking the title and having plenty of time to contemplate my motives for having written this, I must say that it is another personal favorite of mine. This particular piece serves as an equally mocking and compassionate open letter addressed to the woman I see in the mirror– the woman the world knows. However, it was written from the perspective of a woman no one has ever seen– my inner self, if you will.

The dichotomy between the person I am in this physical space we call reality and the identity I have in the intangible space of my inner mind has left me confounded for ages. I never intentionally set out to live the life of so many different people (all fighting and claiming to be the “real” me), yet I find that I have spent a good majority of my life juggling many masks.

Despite these often contradictory sides of self being purely genuine pieces of my personality, having to manage the lack of integration has been quite tiresome over the years. Who should I show this side of myself to? Or that side to? Perhaps you have personal experience dealing with such a dilemma. Maybe your social media portrays your existence as a 24-hour parade of unicorns, rainbows and glitter, whilst your actual life is more reminiscent of the city dump…on a rainy day.

I guess this raises a very interesting question or two regarding our true identities. I mean, which “us” is the real one? Is it the little voice inside our head that pokes and prods our deepest insecurities? Is it the person who cheerfully smiles at strangers as we pass them on the street, despite the things that little voice whispers to us?

Perhaps “we” are the sum of all these fragmented sides of ourselves.

Then again, perhaps we are none of them.

What do you guys think? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this topic, so please feel free to share your opinions down below.
If you enjoyed this little blurb, I’d greatly appreciate you giving it a like or sharing it with someone you think might also enjoy it.
Also, don’t forget to follow this blog for more stories and ramblings! Ciao for now! ❤

 

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*Unless otherwise specified to be property of LonersGuideToLife.com, all photos were sourced from Pexels.*

 

L Stands For Luminol

In the damp cell of life, I serve my time and think of you.

Your silenced lips now haunt me. If only I’d known what I’d do.

I often hear your voice, and I sometimes sense your soul.

I always taste your tears, so I never feel quite whole.

You are the man I love. Yet, you’re the drug I hate, but need.

Still, I’m the one who shrugs; I wash my hands of why you bleed.

Why did you make me do it? We could’ve worked, I knew we could!

If only you had done the things you swore to me you would.

I chose a dress of Chantilly lace. I chose a dress of white.

Then I chose to end a life—that was our final fight.

I tried to practice temperance, to be patient– Don’t you see?

But when you broke your promises, you got the best of me.

I thought I could backpedal and take back those things I said.

I thought that if I cleaned the blood, it’d raise you from the dead.

Soaking up harsh words, I tried to scrub your pain with bleach.

Yet traces of the crime remain in places I can’t reach.

They said you wouldn’t make it, but you told me you’d return.

It’s been two years. I’m shackled still. I guess I’ll never learn.

No one ever saw it coming. Some think I did it for the thrill.

My charge was Death By Tongue. Would you still say that words don’t kill?

© C.M. 2018 All Rights Reserved

 

Today’s poem is a repost from my deleted poetry blog; it is one of my favorites. If you are a habitual reader of mine (I’m totally grateful for you, if you are!), you may have noticed that the vast majority of my poetic attempts address my love life… (ahem) or pitiful lack thereof. This is hardly intentional, but love is a theme I feel is most relatable, so it’s okay by me if I keep writing about it. Hopefully, ya’ll don’t mind so much either 🙂

In other news… I’ve been MIA for awhile. Whoops. This is becoming a far more prevalent occurrence than I would care to admit, but I promise that it was for good reason this time. I’ve just returned from a much needed vacation, so I’m hoping that my stay by the sea was enough to shake loose the cobwebs of my mind. Though relatively brief and haphazardly planned, my trip was rather therapeutic, so I’m looking forward to sharing the random epiphanies I had during my absence.

As always, I hope you are all doing wonderfully. ❤

If you enjoyed this little blurb, I’d greatly appreciate you giving it a like or sharing it with someone you think might also enjoy it.
Also, don’t forget to follow this blog for more stories and ramblings! Ciao for now! ❤

 

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*Unless otherwise specified to be property of LonersGuideToLife.com, all photos were sourced from Pexels.*

True Love Never Dies

A good number of us know the feelings that can accompany the end of a treasured relationship. Whether you’ve grown apart from your romantic partner, completely lost touch with an old friend, or found yourself estranged from a family member, the pain of these experiences can be long-lasting.

Depswa’s “Prom Song” is all too relatable. This song really resonates with me because I’m reminded of a major truth in life: True love never dies.

Stepping away from my (former) fiancé was the most heartbreaking and life-altering decision I ever had to make. Though it took quite a bit of time (as well as some deep reflection), I was able to emerge from the ashes of “what was” with the strength, clarity and resolve to confidently move toward “what is to be”. 

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an unnecessary evil

 

There might not be a need for this.

A hasty farewell stalks a salty kiss. 

We are but four hands, two heads, and one determined mind

A defunct design. 

 

It’s tragic on the surface, but I swear we’re fine.

 

There might not be a need for this.

Your harsh reality, my tardy bliss

If only I could, I’d trade my flesh and split my soul.

I’d shorten my life to make you whole.

 

The wheels have fallen off, but He’s in control.

 

There might not be a need for this.

A single tear rolls down the face I’d miss.

You’ve searched across the land, putting your life in the hands of man.

A most flawed plan.

 

You think no one can save you, but I know He can.


 

Life is full of unnecessary evils.

In the midst of awe-inspiring beauty and joy lurks needless suffering and pain. We fill our lives with activity and noise, hoping that by doing so we can block out the misfortunes of others… as well as outrun tragedy ourselves. This works a majority of the time for the majority of us. However, what happens when life-altering situations land square on our doorstep like the Sunday paper?

The world will tell you that matters such as terminal illness, addiction, trauma and poverty are inevitable conditions of the human experience. Though they are not guaranteed to be imposed upon the masses, people would have you believe these are things that simply happen from time to time… as though we should accept them as a mere inconvenience or wrinkle in the fabric of our fragile lives.

But it isn’t true. This doesn’t have to be true.

When the clearly paved road we travel fades into a rocky, abandoned footpath it can be so easy to rely upon our senses to perceive the fullness of our reality. We may have sought out the very best advice, spoken to all the experts we could find, and done everything within our own power to solve our problems. But still, you may be left wondering what can be done when nothing seems to work. You’re still sick. You’re still lost. You’re still broken.

There comes a time in many of our lives when we are faced with a problem that is bigger than ourselves. We could turn the entire world upside down on itself and still never come close to finding the answers we so desperately seek. Hopelessness and despair will start to converge upon us, and we will question what this life was ever for. It is in these deep, dark moments of fear and oppression that we must all turn our eyes to the sky.

No matter the situation, there is always hope. If you’re still here, there’s still a chance. We must simply remember that there is more to this life than what we can see or readily explain. Even the most intelligent men on Earth are ignorant of what really lies behind our existence. You don’t have to understand how you can be delivered from your circumstances in order to be rescued. Likewise, you don’t have to see an answer for there to be one.

He who seeks shall find. He who asks shall receive.

If there is ever a time you find yourself with questions no one can answer, I hope you will remember to go to the One who knows all, sees all, and loves all.


If you enjoyed this little blurb I’d greatly appreciate you giving it a like or sharing it with someone you think might also enjoy it.
Also, don’t forget to follow this blog for more stories and ramblings! Ciao for now! ❤

 

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*Unless otherwise specified to be property of LonersGuideToLife.com, all photos were sourced from Pexels.*

 

Changes: My Month Living As A Stranger

This is me.

Allegedly.*

Come to think about it, I’ve never actually verified that I am… well, myself (whoever that is). Mind boggling questions concerning my own existence aside, I am whoever I was the day I was born. 

I’d like to think that I’m far less dependent and helpless than I was back then. At least, I no longer find it appropriate to cry bloody murder whenever one of my basic needs requires attention. With any luck, I am much better off than I was as a clueless infant. However, I remain the same exact human being. 

Probably. 

Nonetheless, I have found myself living the life of a complete stranger lately. I’m not sure if the current state of affairs should bother me or not. For some reason I have this gut feeling that my usual self would be quite concerned about this. I would totally ask her about it too… if only I knew where to find her.

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frigid untrustworthy thoughts.

How you gonna inhale when it feels like you are choking?

How you gonna pray when your heart breaks just from hoping?

How you gonna smile when you’re this full of noxious doubt?

How you gonna close your eyes and bleed the heartache out?

 

How you gonna tell yourself you’re better all alone?

How you gonna cope when no one ever rings your phone?

How you gonna find the light when voids are all you see?

How you gonna give up on the woman you could be?

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San Diego (Part 2): The New Kid

It seems as though transferring to a new university as a bright-eyed undergraduate student would be a pretty important event in someone’s life… Important enough to remember with vivid clarity, I mean. Unfortunately, I don’t remember too much about transferring colleges.

Normally, I would blame this inability to remember on my shoddy memory. It has been an entire decade, after all. The problem with this excuse is that I have an impeccable memory—photographic even. And as if that wasn’t impressive enough, my selective memory is second to none. This may be a far, far more accurate reason as to why I no longer recall the early days studying at my alma mater. 😀

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Umm…. Whose Phone Is This?

Let me just start this off by saying that it is hardly uncommon for me to find items outside of my front door.

Small Amazon packages.

Large Amazon packages.

Sephora boxes.

Hungry (and extremely noisy) quails.

Gigantic, freakishly frightening Palo Verde beetles (Google these. I dare you)…

Copious amounts of sand and leaves.

Mid-sized Amazon packages.

Okay, so maybe I have a serious problem when it comes to shopping on Amazon. I’m working on it… sorta. That’s totally not the point I’m trying to make though. 

The concept that I’m trying to drive home today is plain and simple: I find random things on my doorstep on a very regular basis. Therefore, I have developed an almost compulsive habit of peeping out of my front door to see if any cool goodies (or scary creatures) are waiting for me on the patio. 

I also have a nearly compulsive tendency to track the shipping status of my online purchases multiple times a day, so I’m not too sure why I look outside for packages when I know full well that they haven’t arrived yet. It’s so weird, but it’s almost as though I expect deliveries from a mysterious benefactor to miraculously appear on a daily basis. I know this is highly improbable, but it never stops me from poking my head out into the blistering heat to check anyway. You know, “just in case”. 😛

Ya’ll, I got a bit of a shock today.

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