White wall, tan carpet neutral

I've been thinking a lot lately, I guess. Don't know how that's any different from any other time in my life.  It's always been natural for me to dissect every single situation in my life.  Sometimes this is bad, very bad.  Because sometimes I find things that would be better left unfound.

My throat hurts today and I'm very sick.  I'm sitting in my living room with lemonade, a blanket, and the comfiest snugglable throw pillows known to man.  All of my lights are off and the only light is natural light pouring in through my closed blinds.

I don't know, I feel like a mess.

I'm the luckiest girl on the planet.  I am.  I have the best friends a girl could ever ask for.  I don't know how I was lucky enough to stumble across them in my travels, but I did.  And I am so thankful for that.  So thankful that it hurts.

I sense change in my future. I can always feel it when it's coming.  It makes my left temple hurt.  It makes my eyes feel tired, it make me feel like the air pressure is going to squeeze my head to the point where it implodes.  It makes me not want to leave the house or talk to anyone.  It makes me want to jump out the window because I'm just so over challenges.

I do this to myself.  I fucking LOOK for obstacles, I swear.  And then when I'm face to face with a problem that's bigger than I ever intended it to be, I just want to curl up into my apartment and never ever leave.  As much as I love variety, pace changes, excitement, etc.. I hate when this happens.  When I'm faced with something so big that it can turn my life upside-fucking-down.

My face hurts.  My body hurts.  I don't want to go outside in the sun.  I don't want it to rain.  I don't want it to be cold. I don't want it to be hot.  I just want everything to be neutral.

Fucking white wall, tan carpet, black and gray pajamas, and a cup of tea NEUTRAL.

The most beautiful people I know.

I'm a poet, as you know. As a poet, I spend most of my days seeking people who are perfect in their existence.  You know, people who write my poems for me just by being who they are.  I have a tendency to fall in love with people whose flaws are perfectly beautiful.  People who I can't figure out.. those that are a complete enigma to me and keep me guessing.  I love people who I will just never understand. They are beautiful to me because their existence is so complicated that I can't even find my own words to describe them... their words show themselves to me.

They stand there in the environment that they are a part of (the environment that assists them in their mystery) and the words just fucking come to me.  It's weird.  As a poet, I find that invaluable.  I look for these people.. I always do.  And when I find them, I never let them leave my sight.  They are there forever, being who they are and writing poems for me.

I found a new one recently.  A person so dark and mysterious and perfect in every single flaw.  Each flaw is as important as each stroke in a brilliant painting, and I wouldn't change any of them for anything.  Every single flaw is necessary to the whole.  Remove a flaw, you remove everything.

He's perfect.  I want to write him but I can't.  He's writing himself for me.  I'm so thankful for people like this.

What's wrong with me tonight.

Sometimes everything I say is unpoetic.  But sometimes I want my words to be as beautiful as they feel.  I can't find the beautiful words tonight.  Every word feels dirty, used, unoriginal.  I feel like I'm not a poet tonight.  I'm just a girl.  A hurt one.  I'm going to ask myself a question, and then I'm going to answer it.

Why did I do it?

Well, here's why.  I let my guards down because I'm ready to let them down.  I let them down, however, for the wrong person.  I let them down for the person who isn't close enough to my heart yet.  Because I feel like the person closest to my heart can break it in the most damaging way.  I want to hold her face in my hands and kiss her soft lips.  Run my hands through her soft pretty hair.  Tell her she's perfect in every single way.  But I picked him instead, the other one, to focus my attention on.  The one that I haven't fallen for yet, but the one that has me pretty close to the edge, nearly about to leap into a free fall.

Why did I do it though?  What is it in a person's life that makes you ready now, but not ready five months ago?  What is it that makes you choose one person over another?  It's strange, isn't it?  How in control we are over our lives.  Fate, destiny.. I never believed in that shit. And being single for two years has only made me believe in it less.

Nothing is ever perfect.  No one is ever the one for you.  Life is made up of concrete decisions that lead you to where you end up.  You are in full control of your own life.  You never ever have the fucking right to bitch.. because if you're in a position where you need to bitch, you're doing something wrong.

Change.  It takes time for things to end up where you want them.. but they'll never get there if you don't take action, you know?

Freewrite on falling.

It's been six months and you still confuse me.  I still think of your soft legs, the way your soft lips felt against my chest.  Holding you tight, your gentle hair rubbing against my face.  I remember thinking, "I want to hold you and take care of you. Make you smile when you're sad, tell you you're beautiful."  I want to look into your beautiful eyes and tell you how perfect you are in your existence.  As a writer I think about that a lot. 

I go places to look at the scene and write.  Some places are just so perfect in their existence.. from a crack in the wall to the flower growing out of it, the piece of chipped concrete on the sidewalk, the peeling paint exposing a different color below.  It's all perfect, just like you.  Every flaw is just beautiful and I want to just.. appreciate those flaws.  Fall for them, really.  But I won't allow myself.  Why?  What is wrong with me?  It's been six months.

I'll tell you what.. here's what happened to me.  I, like every girl at this age, am broken.  Someone hurt me so bad that I feel like my heart doesn't beat anymore.  I don't know how I survive from day to day, but I do.  I think about his smile, his eyes, his soft hands, his soft lips.  I think about how he loved me.  How it was deeper than any feeling I've ever felt.  How it made me cry.  And he broke me.  I broke him first, but he broke me second.  And it doesn't matter who gets hurt first.. in a love that deep, it kills both people. 

Two years later and I'm dragging myself along.  I feel like I have a suitcase filled with all of this pain and I can't drop it off anywhere.  For some reason it's attached to my hand and I have to take it everywhere.. and when you kiss me, hold me, send me pretty pictures with a beautiful smile and gorgeous squinty eyes, my suitcase is by my side.  It makes me hurt.  It makes me want to run and hide forever. 

I'm a very scared person.  When will I get over this?  When will the pain go away?  When will I look into someone's eyes and forget about the past?  When will I finally, FINALLY, look into the fucking future?  When will I allow myself to fall for someone.. again?