Daydream

I dream of you often, dear fragment of my imagination. I long for you still, so I’m burdened by this hopeful frustration. 

God, please grant me more patience.

There’s no fear here at all. I’m ready and willing; I’ve prepped for the fall.

Are two hearts really two hearts? Are we lonely, feeling outcast til the love starts? 

Two souls meeting here in the black dark. Emerge as one in the bright light.

You’re there hoping that you’re wrong. I’m here praying that I’m right. Reality hurts us both, so I’m closing my eyes. What a beautiful sight…

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What The $#!+*@?- A Breakup Story

It seems as though 2007 came and went without any written record of my whereabouts.

Though I am confident that I would have scribbled my feelings into a notebook from time to time, I have been unable to locate such an article. If a diary from this period of my life ever surfaces, I will have to skim it for particularly telling tidbits of information. But until that day, the explanations that follow will have to suffice.

Adam and I broke up soon after the New Year. When I say “break up” I actually mean detonated.

By this point in time, I had just quit my job in preparation for my move to San Diego. Up until our demise, we had still planned to move in together. However, I had a swift change of heart about two weeks before signing the lease. Something in my spirit told me that moving in with him would prove to be the biggest mistake of my life, so I ended up planning to move down there on my own. As I’m sure you could guess, Adam wasn’t the slightest bit blessed by my decision.

The actual breakup was rather dramatic and abrupt. I remember trying to reach him by phone quite late one evening. When my calls went unanswered for several hours, I grew worried about his whereabouts. By the time he finally answered, I was met by all manners of noise in the background. His salutation was slurred and sloppy— he was undeniably intoxicated. I knew how the call would end the moment I heard his voice. I had had enough of his buffoonery.

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Cold, Cold Porcelain

It is hard for me to remember the events of late 2006 with any degree of precision or accuracy. However, I highly doubt my memory was any better at the time.

In the span of time from October to December of that year, my relationship with Adam suffered considerably. The resurfacing of my ex-boyfriend and the arguments that swiftly followed, kicked off a miserable chain of events that Adam and I never quite came back from. With a quickness, we were thrown into a revolving door of accusations and low blows.

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Shame On You

“If only I knew then what I know now.” I have such mixed feelings about this statement.

For the most part, I avoid saying things like this because hindsight is 20/20. In the majority of cases, I think most people would take the knowledge they have now and use it to positively influence their past if they thought it could lead to a preferable outcome. All the same, we can’t go back in time and alter anything, which renders the whole wishful nature of statements such as these useless…

… yet I still found myself thinking this way when I read over today’s post.

There is a certain degree of detachment for me when I read past writings such as the one below. Although I can vividly recall how I felt in those particular moments, it still feels slightly foreign. This is quite a peculiar position to be in because I never thought my day of freedom would come. I’d been imprisoned against my will by inexplicable sorrow for so long… my current state of being is supremely surreal in comparison.

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I Nell. Me Was Caveman.

There once was a time when I handled my romantic relationships like a caveman. Not even a cavewoman. A caveman.

Despite having grown up in a family full of (questionably) happily married couples, I never had any formal training when it came to learning how to form my own relationships. Did any of you? Hmm. Perhaps I mistook the Dating 101 seminar invitation for junk mail… or bills. *Shudder* I always make sure to throw my bills into the recycling bin straight away. It’s good for the environment, you know.

Anyhow, unlike the whole birds and the bees thing (from which I naively took away the message, “Never, ever, ever touch boys”), my mother never sat me down and explained what I should and should not do if I hoped to maintain a successful partnership with a member of the opposite sex.

I didn’t have any siblings to ask, and although I’d grow to have friends who also dated, I wasn’t about to pick their brains about something so serious. Besides, I was fairly confident that they didn’t know what they were doing either. It seemed like a much better idea to wing it. And so, I did.

Turns out I was a relational caveman. No contemplation. No patience. No decorum. No idea what the heck I was doing. It was simply, “Me like. Me want. Me take. Me bored. Me throw away. Me like new thing now. You go away.” And the cycle would repeat itself.

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100 Things I Absolutely Love

The world could use far more love. Wouldn’t you agree?

Today I hope to encourage you guys to spend some time thinking about the things and people you love by sharing 100 things that fill my life with happiness and enjoyment. I have seen other people do something like this before; it is always a fun and fascinating way to learn more about what makes them…them.

At first, it seemed like a lot of things to list! However, the making of this list was filled with ease. I love so many things, places and people! The more I contemplated what I loved, the longer my list grew. By the time I was finished, I felt as though I could have easily made it to a thousand. Now I feel so grateful. How lucky I am to live in a world so rich, expansive and varied that I have been able to quickly identify countless things to love and admire.

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Be Thou Removed

I’m afraid that I’ve gone and gotten myself into trouble again. Don’t bother sending for help. I fully accept where I’ve landed.

You see, he is the first thing on my mind when I wake up. I start praying for him before I can even get my eyes halfway open.

There used to be a time when I prayed first thing in the morning for the strength to chase down my dreams. I’d pray for the remaining members of my family—my cat too. World peace. More love. Less strife. Answers to questions I can’t answer. I still pray for these things, but I pray for him first. I always pray for him first.

I pray for him to find his rightful place and purpose in this world.

I pray that he lives with more gratitude and passion now than he ever did before.

I pray that he took my nervous ramblings to heart.

I pray that he doesn’t think that I am completely delusional.

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I Never Forgot

I may never come to understand why he meant so much to me…why this one night meant so much.

When I recall this particular memory there is such a rush of raw, poignant emotion. It has been twelve years. You have no idea how hard it is for me to believe this to be true. For me, it still feels like yesterday. It’s almost as though everything about the world has changed in those years except for my feelings for him. Sure, the details are fuzzy at best, but there is something about that man that never left me. “It” will never leave me.

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Dinner, Dessert & Desire

“The intention and outcome of vulnerability is trust, intimacy and connection. The outcome of oversharing is distrust, disconnection— and usually a little judgment.” – Brene Brown

Isn’t that the truth?

There have not been many people to know me as I truly am— this has caused me considerable grief over the years. Building walls and hiding my feelings was simply how I made it through most of life. I don’t know why.

In some ways, I never felt as though I belonged anywhere…belonged to anyone. A walking, talking, living, breathing paradox. Unpredictable. Inconvenient. It seemed as though people only liked me if I’d fit their mold. Oh, I played along sometimes. Then I’d go home, soak my pillow through, get up and prepare to do it all over again.

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Beer Before Liquor

For some reason, today’s throwback post really caught me off guard. I’m unsure if it was because I hadn’t remembered this particular event until I read it, or if it was due to its eerie similarity to the night I tearfully screamed, “It’s over! Don’t you ever call me again, you “blanking” (expletive)!” into my phone’s receiver.

Oh, I was so dreadfully dramatic at that age. It makes for wonderful reading though, so I won’t spoil the end for you.

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