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?
Monday, May 13, 2013
Friday, May 10, 2013
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?
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?
Saturday, April 6, 2013
The good kind of reckless
It's been quite awhile since I've been here. It's been quite awhile since I've analyzed myself, really. I think at this point I'm letting myself go a little bit crazy, because without analyzing myself... I don't catch the things that I shouldn't be doing. I don't say "Hey Nicole, looking this over, you've made a lot of really fucking bad decisions. You should change that."
I don't really know where to begin. I don't even have the foggiest idea of where to end either. So I'm just going to do this in a freewrite type-deal. Because maybe if I just let my thoughts fly away, I can get to the bottom of this. Whatever "this" is.
Freewrite startsss... now (10:32pm).
I'm in my living room. I'm not wearing a shirt. I'm wearing a pretty bra and the comfiest sweatpants I own. My TV is on but I have the movie paused. There's a very dim light on and I'm enjoying the last bit of chocolate that's in my mouth. My hair's a little bit crazy... like me.
Last night I went to Ricky's apartment. I downed two PBRs and a shot of whiskey in about fifteen minutes or so, and then trekked down the hill to the trashiest bar I'd allow myself to go to. I danced a little, sang with my friends, ate the greasiest pizza on the sidewalk, and went to a sex toy shop to discuss glass dildos with my friend's girlfriend. I fought with a random stranger on the street who said something ignorant to someone. But overall, it was a nice night. It was like every other night. Most of my nights are nice now and I love that. I love what I created for myself. I love where my courage has brought me.
As we walked back up the hill, I had a smile on my face. I looked around and thought to myself, this is the good kind of reckless. Why on earth do I keep seeking the bad kind of reckless? Why have I been incredibly attracted to dangerous situations lately? I feel like I'm only going to luck out so many times. I feel like one of these days, I'm going to end up dead.
Yes, dead.
I think I need to re-evaluate some things. I need to stop going for the bad reckless and head towards the good reckless that's so readily available to me. Why am I so ... crazy? Why do I seek the adrenaline rush of bad situations?
Enough of that.
There's something I love about being on my own with no one to stop me from doing what makes me happy. The other day I was in my apartment and the sun was shining through my dusty blinds. I put a nice warm hooded sweatshirt on and drove to northwest philly. I walked around for hours, entering every store that seemed interesting to me. I enjoyed the cool crisp air, I loved the strangers surrounding me, I loved the sound of the traffic and the joy that I had when I studied each store front.
Everything is just so good and I've always been one to try to fuck things up when everything is good. I need to stop putting myself in dangerous situations. I care about myself, I do. I love myself, I love the life that I created for myself, I love the people that I've selected to go on this wonderful jounrey with me.
I need to stick to the good reckless, not the bad reckless. I need to settle with the beer, whiskey, and friends. And I need to find more comfort in simple things, like wandering through little stores by myself with no one to tell me, "let's go home."
My life is really just so good right now. I need to keep it that way. Two years ago I found myself wandering around New Hope by myself at night, writing poetry and observing people. It used to be enough back then, it should be enough right now. Why isn't it?
I need to roll out some serious changes.
I don't really know where to begin. I don't even have the foggiest idea of where to end either. So I'm just going to do this in a freewrite type-deal. Because maybe if I just let my thoughts fly away, I can get to the bottom of this. Whatever "this" is.
Freewrite startsss... now (10:32pm).
I'm in my living room. I'm not wearing a shirt. I'm wearing a pretty bra and the comfiest sweatpants I own. My TV is on but I have the movie paused. There's a very dim light on and I'm enjoying the last bit of chocolate that's in my mouth. My hair's a little bit crazy... like me.
Last night I went to Ricky's apartment. I downed two PBRs and a shot of whiskey in about fifteen minutes or so, and then trekked down the hill to the trashiest bar I'd allow myself to go to. I danced a little, sang with my friends, ate the greasiest pizza on the sidewalk, and went to a sex toy shop to discuss glass dildos with my friend's girlfriend. I fought with a random stranger on the street who said something ignorant to someone. But overall, it was a nice night. It was like every other night. Most of my nights are nice now and I love that. I love what I created for myself. I love where my courage has brought me.
As we walked back up the hill, I had a smile on my face. I looked around and thought to myself, this is the good kind of reckless. Why on earth do I keep seeking the bad kind of reckless? Why have I been incredibly attracted to dangerous situations lately? I feel like I'm only going to luck out so many times. I feel like one of these days, I'm going to end up dead.
Yes, dead.
I think I need to re-evaluate some things. I need to stop going for the bad reckless and head towards the good reckless that's so readily available to me. Why am I so ... crazy? Why do I seek the adrenaline rush of bad situations?
Enough of that.
There's something I love about being on my own with no one to stop me from doing what makes me happy. The other day I was in my apartment and the sun was shining through my dusty blinds. I put a nice warm hooded sweatshirt on and drove to northwest philly. I walked around for hours, entering every store that seemed interesting to me. I enjoyed the cool crisp air, I loved the strangers surrounding me, I loved the sound of the traffic and the joy that I had when I studied each store front.
Everything is just so good and I've always been one to try to fuck things up when everything is good. I need to stop putting myself in dangerous situations. I care about myself, I do. I love myself, I love the life that I created for myself, I love the people that I've selected to go on this wonderful jounrey with me.
I need to stick to the good reckless, not the bad reckless. I need to settle with the beer, whiskey, and friends. And I need to find more comfort in simple things, like wandering through little stores by myself with no one to tell me, "let's go home."
My life is really just so good right now. I need to keep it that way. Two years ago I found myself wandering around New Hope by myself at night, writing poetry and observing people. It used to be enough back then, it should be enough right now. Why isn't it?
I need to roll out some serious changes.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Pride
I feel like such a failure sometimes. It's all a matter of perspective though, I'm sure. I'm going to be 25 in a few short days and I was evaluating my life. I don't know. I always told myself that 24 was gonna be "the year." I didn't even know what that meant. But it certainly was "the year." I lived on my own, I created an amazing network of friends, I rebuilt everything that I fucking damaged. I learned more about myself in the last past year than I've learned in the previous 23 years before it.
I think my problem is that I'm never happy. I hated the Lehigh Valley, I moved out. I hated being single, I got attached. I hated being attached, I became single again. I hated being an underachiever, I quit my job. I started my career, and now I feel like I'm selling myself short.
Pardon the comma splices. I have a degree in English so I'm allowed.
I don't know. I'm just generally never proud of myself. I should be proud... I think. Someone told me that I'm the bravest person she's ever met. I don't get it. I don't feel brave. I feel like a girl who just "gets by." I just happened to get lucky and things fell into place. It had nothing to do with bravery. I only took chances because I had to. Because I'm never happy. Because I wanted to be proud of myself.
And that's, I suppose, why I keep changing over and over again. I'm constantly seeking pride. I have yet to find it. I feel as though none of my accomplishments ever existed. I don't even fucking know what I've accomplished. A college degree? Whatever, everyone has one of those these days.
I have nothing to be proud about, really.
I guess I'm proud of my poetry. It makes me want to cry when I read it sometimes. It really makes me feel. For a cold person to actually feel, that's exciting. It makes me think that maybe my life isn't as fucking lame as I think it is.
And I guess in general my life isn't that lame compared to most normal people. I have the craziest friends a girl could ask for and memories that you can't even find in movies or books. I've experienced a lot, that I must say. But I just feel...
like I'm not living up to my potential. That I'm on slow motion or something. That I should be living in a cute apartment down in the city somewhere making $65k with a kitty cat named Cupcake or something. Why is it taking me so long to get where I know I should be? Why is it so much easier for some people?
There are things I wouldn't change for the world right now. If I had to pick between staying single or being in an amazing committed relationship, I would 100% without a doubt in my mind choose the single life. I wouldn't change living alone. I love it. I wouldn't change being a paralegal (I love that too). But why, fucking why, are my goals so far out of reach?
Why does life have to be so hard? Why do I have to struggle so much to get where I know I deserve to be? It's taking a toll on my confidence. It's making me think that maybe I'm just not as smart as I once thought I was.
I think my problem is that I'm never happy. I hated the Lehigh Valley, I moved out. I hated being single, I got attached. I hated being attached, I became single again. I hated being an underachiever, I quit my job. I started my career, and now I feel like I'm selling myself short.
Pardon the comma splices. I have a degree in English so I'm allowed.
I don't know. I'm just generally never proud of myself. I should be proud... I think. Someone told me that I'm the bravest person she's ever met. I don't get it. I don't feel brave. I feel like a girl who just "gets by." I just happened to get lucky and things fell into place. It had nothing to do with bravery. I only took chances because I had to. Because I'm never happy. Because I wanted to be proud of myself.
And that's, I suppose, why I keep changing over and over again. I'm constantly seeking pride. I have yet to find it. I feel as though none of my accomplishments ever existed. I don't even fucking know what I've accomplished. A college degree? Whatever, everyone has one of those these days.
I have nothing to be proud about, really.
I guess I'm proud of my poetry. It makes me want to cry when I read it sometimes. It really makes me feel. For a cold person to actually feel, that's exciting. It makes me think that maybe my life isn't as fucking lame as I think it is.
And I guess in general my life isn't that lame compared to most normal people. I have the craziest friends a girl could ask for and memories that you can't even find in movies or books. I've experienced a lot, that I must say. But I just feel...
like I'm not living up to my potential. That I'm on slow motion or something. That I should be living in a cute apartment down in the city somewhere making $65k with a kitty cat named Cupcake or something. Why is it taking me so long to get where I know I should be? Why is it so much easier for some people?
There are things I wouldn't change for the world right now. If I had to pick between staying single or being in an amazing committed relationship, I would 100% without a doubt in my mind choose the single life. I wouldn't change living alone. I love it. I wouldn't change being a paralegal (I love that too). But why, fucking why, are my goals so far out of reach?
Why does life have to be so hard? Why do I have to struggle so much to get where I know I deserve to be? It's taking a toll on my confidence. It's making me think that maybe I'm just not as smart as I once thought I was.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Defining Myself
I've been struggling to define myself lately. Usually I know exactly who I am and my goal is either to change who I am or accept who I am. After a long period of unhappiness, I changed. And what I changed into is just.. confusing. I'm such an enigma. In an attempt to try to put some words to who I am, I'm going to do a freewrite. They usually help me discover something. Twenty minutes:
Recently I've been desperately trying to find a place for myself. After a long period of no family and shitty friends, I decided it was time to alter my relationships to make my life better.
Step one: I disconnected with my grandmother. She disconnected with me, so it was what I needed to do to be happy. I couldn't spend another holiday alone because of her. So what did I do? Invite my parents to my apartment for Christmas.
Step two: I stopped dwelling on what my friends used to be and accepted them for what they are now. In addition, I decided to seek new friends that seem be exactly where I am in life. I've changed. I'm going to be 25 years old next month. I've done the "party till 6am" thing. I've done the promiscuous sex thing. I was pretty much drunk for a year straight and woke up naked on hallway floors. I've experienced all of that and I've calmed down. I can go to a bar, have a beer and an appetizer and be happy. I don't need sex and I don't need intoxication. So I've made new friends who are the same way. That leads me to another topic... relationships.
I've learned a lot in that area as well. First of all, sexuality was always a problem for me. And right now, I'm one hell of an enigma. What do I know? I know I love women. I know I can be with a transboy. I know I can maybe make it work with a polyamorous bisexual boy. And I know, most importantly, that none of this really matters at all. I'm just going day by day. I'm dating all over the spectrum. Boy, girl, transboy... whatever. I'm just going with my feelings. And I'm managing to stay relatively classy in the process, not going beyond a nice make out session unless I develop true feelings for a person. I've just.. grown up, I guess. What's my dream relationship?
Biologically, I don't know if it matters. I know about 90% of me prefers women biologically, but there's still that 10%. I'd like either a gay girl, bi girl, transboy, or bi boy. I prefer for the person to be at least semi-polycurious or extremely secure. Someone to hold me when I'm cold, and I'll do the same for them. I'll pick them flowers, make them breakfast. They can make me coffee. We can snuggle on my futon and watch tv shows. They are preferably someone relatively vegetarian or vegan, as it makes it easier for me as a cook since I'm mostly vegetarian myself. Someone with goals, someone ambitious, someone with beautiful eyes and a beautiful soul. Someone who doesn't need to spend a lot of money to appreciate life. Someone who can go on walks with me through the woods and lounge around all day in sweatpants. That's what I want. But I'm not looking for it; I'm just saying I'll be very lucky and happy if I find them, may it be a male or a female. I'm very happy and secure with where I am in life, so I'm in no hurry. It can wait.
I've established a pretty good life here on my own. I have a great job, a nice car, a cute apartment in a nice area. I have the best friends a girl could ever ask for. My relationship with my family isn't ideal but I'm happy with what I have. I love my crazy parents, my crazy uncle, my awesome sisters. I'm an atheist so I can't say that I'm "blessed," but I definitely lucked out in life. The universe has been good to me. I was born at the right place at the right time and the right things have happened to lead me right to where I am right now. I'm enjoying this time because I'm a social girl, I'm generally pretty, I'm smart, and honestly.. I'm a catch. Being single is fun for me. Part of me hopes I'll be single for another year or two. Only time will tell. I know that I'm only giving my heart away to someone who deserves it. I'm going to be extremely picky this time around, because I can be.
Recently I've been desperately trying to find a place for myself. After a long period of no family and shitty friends, I decided it was time to alter my relationships to make my life better.
Step one: I disconnected with my grandmother. She disconnected with me, so it was what I needed to do to be happy. I couldn't spend another holiday alone because of her. So what did I do? Invite my parents to my apartment for Christmas.
Step two: I stopped dwelling on what my friends used to be and accepted them for what they are now. In addition, I decided to seek new friends that seem be exactly where I am in life. I've changed. I'm going to be 25 years old next month. I've done the "party till 6am" thing. I've done the promiscuous sex thing. I was pretty much drunk for a year straight and woke up naked on hallway floors. I've experienced all of that and I've calmed down. I can go to a bar, have a beer and an appetizer and be happy. I don't need sex and I don't need intoxication. So I've made new friends who are the same way. That leads me to another topic... relationships.
I've learned a lot in that area as well. First of all, sexuality was always a problem for me. And right now, I'm one hell of an enigma. What do I know? I know I love women. I know I can be with a transboy. I know I can maybe make it work with a polyamorous bisexual boy. And I know, most importantly, that none of this really matters at all. I'm just going day by day. I'm dating all over the spectrum. Boy, girl, transboy... whatever. I'm just going with my feelings. And I'm managing to stay relatively classy in the process, not going beyond a nice make out session unless I develop true feelings for a person. I've just.. grown up, I guess. What's my dream relationship?
Biologically, I don't know if it matters. I know about 90% of me prefers women biologically, but there's still that 10%. I'd like either a gay girl, bi girl, transboy, or bi boy. I prefer for the person to be at least semi-polycurious or extremely secure. Someone to hold me when I'm cold, and I'll do the same for them. I'll pick them flowers, make them breakfast. They can make me coffee. We can snuggle on my futon and watch tv shows. They are preferably someone relatively vegetarian or vegan, as it makes it easier for me as a cook since I'm mostly vegetarian myself. Someone with goals, someone ambitious, someone with beautiful eyes and a beautiful soul. Someone who doesn't need to spend a lot of money to appreciate life. Someone who can go on walks with me through the woods and lounge around all day in sweatpants. That's what I want. But I'm not looking for it; I'm just saying I'll be very lucky and happy if I find them, may it be a male or a female. I'm very happy and secure with where I am in life, so I'm in no hurry. It can wait.
I've established a pretty good life here on my own. I have a great job, a nice car, a cute apartment in a nice area. I have the best friends a girl could ever ask for. My relationship with my family isn't ideal but I'm happy with what I have. I love my crazy parents, my crazy uncle, my awesome sisters. I'm an atheist so I can't say that I'm "blessed," but I definitely lucked out in life. The universe has been good to me. I was born at the right place at the right time and the right things have happened to lead me right to where I am right now. I'm enjoying this time because I'm a social girl, I'm generally pretty, I'm smart, and honestly.. I'm a catch. Being single is fun for me. Part of me hopes I'll be single for another year or two. Only time will tell. I know that I'm only giving my heart away to someone who deserves it. I'm going to be extremely picky this time around, because I can be.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Thanksgiving day freewrite
I feel like I'm lucky in many ways. I can afford to live on my own, I make my own decisions, I have tons of friends who love me, I'm starting a career (no matter how annoying it is), I live in a country where I'm safe and sound every day.. but being lucky hasn't erased the pain I've been feeling lately. And I can't really even put it into words. At least I don't think I can.
Thanksgiving Day Freewrite. Twenty minutes starting now.
I'm sad. The pretty sunlight cascading through the window doesn't put a smile on my face anymore. I've let my two plants die. The curtains are closed in my bedroom, so when I enter it I feel like I'm entering a funeral home. Plenty of people offer to spend time with me to cheer me up, but I turn them down. I know, I just know that nothing they can say can make me genuinely happy. I don't want to let them down. I don't want to expose them to my contagious negativity.
So what's wrong in my life? I don't even think I can tell you. Yesterday someone who I care about very much told me that I'm the strongest person that she knows. She said that I "got guts." This is coming from someone who's husband murdered her son. I don't know, I told her that I don't feel strong. I feel weak.
I was strong to get where I am, but I'm coasting where I am pretty weakly. Something needs to change. Something is wrong in my life. Well, many things are wrong in my life. My mother will never be the mother that I need her to be. My father will never be the father that I wish he could be. My grandmother has her real family. My sisters gave up on having a relationship with me years ago. Haven't spoke to my brother in who knows how long. My uncle tries reaching out to me but frankly...
I don't want to intrude. They've built bonds and I don't want to intrude any bonds. I've been the missing cousin for many years and first of all, I wouldn't even know where to begin inviting myself back into their lives. I don't even want to try. I'm not even someone that they would like. I'm nothing like any of them.
It's just me here, by myself. I found a cure to this big black cloud that's hovering over my body, and the cure is to move. I need to pack my shit up and move out of this town. I look online every day for apartments that I can afford but nothing has sparked my interest as of yet.
I need to be strong again. Strong Nicole fucks shit up to make it perfect. I've been doing that for years, fucking shit up when things got too easy. Easy is boring to me. I don't want to live an easy life. Sitting here in my dark apartment being unhappy and having no family is easy. I want to move to a new town and throw some chaos into the equation. I need to be strong.
So what am I going to do this Thanksgiving? Hide, really. I lied to a lot of people to get out of going to their houses for Thanksgiving. Frankly, I don't want to intrude on anyone's family time. It's not their fault I have a fucked up family that doesn't really want to see me. And the family that does want to see me (i.e. my uncle), as I said, I don't want to intrude the bonds. I've been missing for many years. It wouldn't feel right.
I'm sitting here drinking coffee out of my pink "I love men in uniform" mug and thinking about how much I hate the world. I hate everything, really. I advised my mother yesterday that I'm crossing my fingers for the 21st. I hope the fucking Mayan calendar is right. I know it isn't, but as I told my mother, I have to have something to look forward to. My mom said she'd call me on the 22nd. I told her not to, that it's going to be an awful day for me if the world didn't end. She laughed at me and told me I'm twisted.
I'M twisted. Oh yes, I'm totally twisted. Because I'M the one who told my daughter "I hope you get AIDS and rot." Psht, I'm not even going to get into that. But I will say that my mother saying that to me was the most epic catalyst I've had in a long time. I went from being very minimally miserable to being fucking.. I don't know, Eeyore on downers in a matter of like ten seconds. And it fucked shit up. I was doing okay, but now I'm just always generally down.
I'm talking to my mom again, yes, but I'm just overall miserable. It doesn't help that my job is creating unrealistic deadlines for me. I go to work and I'm miserable, I come home and I'm miserable. I go to sleep and I dream miserable dreams. I'm miserable right now on a holiday where you're supposed to be thankful for what you have.
I am thankful for what I have. I guess. I'm thankful that I'm alive. I'm thankful that I still have a few small reasons to be alive.
Thanksgiving Day Freewrite. Twenty minutes starting now.
I'm sad. The pretty sunlight cascading through the window doesn't put a smile on my face anymore. I've let my two plants die. The curtains are closed in my bedroom, so when I enter it I feel like I'm entering a funeral home. Plenty of people offer to spend time with me to cheer me up, but I turn them down. I know, I just know that nothing they can say can make me genuinely happy. I don't want to let them down. I don't want to expose them to my contagious negativity.
So what's wrong in my life? I don't even think I can tell you. Yesterday someone who I care about very much told me that I'm the strongest person that she knows. She said that I "got guts." This is coming from someone who's husband murdered her son. I don't know, I told her that I don't feel strong. I feel weak.
I was strong to get where I am, but I'm coasting where I am pretty weakly. Something needs to change. Something is wrong in my life. Well, many things are wrong in my life. My mother will never be the mother that I need her to be. My father will never be the father that I wish he could be. My grandmother has her real family. My sisters gave up on having a relationship with me years ago. Haven't spoke to my brother in who knows how long. My uncle tries reaching out to me but frankly...
I don't want to intrude. They've built bonds and I don't want to intrude any bonds. I've been the missing cousin for many years and first of all, I wouldn't even know where to begin inviting myself back into their lives. I don't even want to try. I'm not even someone that they would like. I'm nothing like any of them.
It's just me here, by myself. I found a cure to this big black cloud that's hovering over my body, and the cure is to move. I need to pack my shit up and move out of this town. I look online every day for apartments that I can afford but nothing has sparked my interest as of yet.
I need to be strong again. Strong Nicole fucks shit up to make it perfect. I've been doing that for years, fucking shit up when things got too easy. Easy is boring to me. I don't want to live an easy life. Sitting here in my dark apartment being unhappy and having no family is easy. I want to move to a new town and throw some chaos into the equation. I need to be strong.
So what am I going to do this Thanksgiving? Hide, really. I lied to a lot of people to get out of going to their houses for Thanksgiving. Frankly, I don't want to intrude on anyone's family time. It's not their fault I have a fucked up family that doesn't really want to see me. And the family that does want to see me (i.e. my uncle), as I said, I don't want to intrude the bonds. I've been missing for many years. It wouldn't feel right.
I'm sitting here drinking coffee out of my pink "I love men in uniform" mug and thinking about how much I hate the world. I hate everything, really. I advised my mother yesterday that I'm crossing my fingers for the 21st. I hope the fucking Mayan calendar is right. I know it isn't, but as I told my mother, I have to have something to look forward to. My mom said she'd call me on the 22nd. I told her not to, that it's going to be an awful day for me if the world didn't end. She laughed at me and told me I'm twisted.
I'M twisted. Oh yes, I'm totally twisted. Because I'M the one who told my daughter "I hope you get AIDS and rot." Psht, I'm not even going to get into that. But I will say that my mother saying that to me was the most epic catalyst I've had in a long time. I went from being very minimally miserable to being fucking.. I don't know, Eeyore on downers in a matter of like ten seconds. And it fucked shit up. I was doing okay, but now I'm just always generally down.
I'm talking to my mom again, yes, but I'm just overall miserable. It doesn't help that my job is creating unrealistic deadlines for me. I go to work and I'm miserable, I come home and I'm miserable. I go to sleep and I dream miserable dreams. I'm miserable right now on a holiday where you're supposed to be thankful for what you have.
I am thankful for what I have. I guess. I'm thankful that I'm alive. I'm thankful that I still have a few small reasons to be alive.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
How things are.
Let me preface this by saying that my mother had an extremely bad head injury. Sixty-six stitches across her forehead. Eight below her left eye. I almost lost her. A few hours before it happened, a man said to me, "you love your mom don't you?" I looked over at her and she had a smile. I said "yes." He assured me that my mom loved me too.
Then when it happened I looked down at her face that was covered in blood. Red was bleeding into the whites of her eyes. She stared up at me in a daze and a smile slowly appeared on her face. I immediately laid down. If I wouldn't have, I would have passed out. I thought I was going to lose my mother.
In a way, I did, because she was never the same due to the brain damage that occurred.
I remember I made her cry when I criticized the big gashes her face. It hurt her but it hurt me just as much. I wish I could go back in time and erase what I said.
My dad said to me, shortly afterwards, "Nicole at some point you just start to realize that, you know, things just are the way that they are. And there is nothing you can do about it."
My mom has been emotionally abusive to me since it happened, as most people know. She's always been a provider, the bread winner in our family. But that's really that only thing she's got going for her as a parent. Part of me understands why though. She grew up in poverty, lived in an orphanage for a portion of her life, had a schizophrenic mother, had to steal food to eat, was sold into prostitution, had multiple abortions as a result, had a sister that was violently raped and disappeared...
My mom had a rough life. So rough that she never really got to develop parenting skills.
Yesterday, completely 100% unprovoked, she bashed me. She kept pushing and pushing. Harder and harder. But I refused to fight back. It's not in my nature. I don't like to fight. After about 40 minutes of it, I couldn't take it. I said one thing. ONE thing. And it ended in her telling me that she hopes I get AIDS and rot. She hung up on me. She's done this stuff to me before. Many times. Once I stopped talking to her for about six months.
This time was different though. I didn't cry. I didn't drink myself to near death. I handled it well. Going to bed was impossible though. All of the sad feelings crept up on me. In the dark I stared at the ceiling thinking about how glad I am that my father didn't buy me a gun, because death has been looking awfully more shiny here of late.
More shiny than it ever should.
Today my dad called me. I answered and he asked me what's wrong. I told him what happened and advised him that I did nothing wrong. He agreed with me. He begged my mom to take the phone but she refused. "Talk to your daughter" he kept saying but she refused the phone. After a good ten attempts, she grabbed the phone and said "what?" in a nasty tone. I said, "I just wanted to talk about work." She threw the phone at my dad. He begged her again. After nearly ten minutes, she finally talked to me. No apology of course, and she still things she's completely in the right. And she probably still wishes I get AIDS and rot...
But I'm glad we're talking. I can't take another holiday alone in my living room. I can't hurt my dad anymore because my mother is deteriorating mentally and saying things that a mother should never say to a daughter. My dad deserves a daughter who's always there during holidays. So does my grandmother. And I'm not going to let my mother ruin that.
I'll be civil.
Then when it happened I looked down at her face that was covered in blood. Red was bleeding into the whites of her eyes. She stared up at me in a daze and a smile slowly appeared on her face. I immediately laid down. If I wouldn't have, I would have passed out. I thought I was going to lose my mother.
In a way, I did, because she was never the same due to the brain damage that occurred.
I remember I made her cry when I criticized the big gashes her face. It hurt her but it hurt me just as much. I wish I could go back in time and erase what I said.
My dad said to me, shortly afterwards, "Nicole at some point you just start to realize that, you know, things just are the way that they are. And there is nothing you can do about it."
My mom has been emotionally abusive to me since it happened, as most people know. She's always been a provider, the bread winner in our family. But that's really that only thing she's got going for her as a parent. Part of me understands why though. She grew up in poverty, lived in an orphanage for a portion of her life, had a schizophrenic mother, had to steal food to eat, was sold into prostitution, had multiple abortions as a result, had a sister that was violently raped and disappeared...
My mom had a rough life. So rough that she never really got to develop parenting skills.
Yesterday, completely 100% unprovoked, she bashed me. She kept pushing and pushing. Harder and harder. But I refused to fight back. It's not in my nature. I don't like to fight. After about 40 minutes of it, I couldn't take it. I said one thing. ONE thing. And it ended in her telling me that she hopes I get AIDS and rot. She hung up on me. She's done this stuff to me before. Many times. Once I stopped talking to her for about six months.
This time was different though. I didn't cry. I didn't drink myself to near death. I handled it well. Going to bed was impossible though. All of the sad feelings crept up on me. In the dark I stared at the ceiling thinking about how glad I am that my father didn't buy me a gun, because death has been looking awfully more shiny here of late.
More shiny than it ever should.
Today my dad called me. I answered and he asked me what's wrong. I told him what happened and advised him that I did nothing wrong. He agreed with me. He begged my mom to take the phone but she refused. "Talk to your daughter" he kept saying but she refused the phone. After a good ten attempts, she grabbed the phone and said "what?" in a nasty tone. I said, "I just wanted to talk about work." She threw the phone at my dad. He begged her again. After nearly ten minutes, she finally talked to me. No apology of course, and she still things she's completely in the right. And she probably still wishes I get AIDS and rot...
But I'm glad we're talking. I can't take another holiday alone in my living room. I can't hurt my dad anymore because my mother is deteriorating mentally and saying things that a mother should never say to a daughter. My dad deserves a daughter who's always there during holidays. So does my grandmother. And I'm not going to let my mother ruin that.
I'll be civil.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Evaluating Religion Once Again
Religion has gained my interest recently. I've considered myself an atheist for many years and it's been so many years, in fact, that I never really think about it. I just know that there is no "creator" based off of things I've learned in geology class, chemistry class, history class, physics class, astronomy class, etc. Upon learning what I learned, I knew one hundred percent without a doubt in my mind that there is no fucking way that there is an omniscient being out there that made this universe, even in a way that a deist may believe.
The Higgs Boson came to light not that long ago and it made me think about religion again, solidifying my stance as an atheist even more, but also making me more interested in things such as Hinduism and Buddism just for the mental benefits.
I mean, religion is the opiate of the masses. And I'm all about sticking my hand in the cookie jar to get a taste of the sweetness. So I've looked into the non-religious traditions of Buddhist and Hindu culture and hold those to my heart as a way of feeling "one with the universe" in my ever-so-hippy way that my coworker teases me about. You know, doing the tree pose by candle light and listening to Krishna Das while meditating. And also, everyone appreciates a little nonattachment like Buddha preached.
However, I'm an intelligent being. I don't think that there's a god in my tree or that the Book of the Dead is true by any means. I collect Ganesh statutes (Remover of Obstacles) because it makes me happy in the same way that my unicorn pillow pet makes me happy, not because I think they're going to make my mom suddenly love the gays.
About five years ago I spent time researching various religions and in that period of time I even read the Book of Satanism. I thought to myself "holy shit that's a lot of animal sacrificing." But then I read the Bible and thought "holy shit this is even more animal sacrificing." It's all the same. Kill things to make some invisible person happy. And when it's not "kill things to make some invisible person happy," it's "cook vegetarian meals to make some invisible person happy" (for instance, in Hinduism).
I've had holy water squirted on me, I've kneeled in Catholic churches, I've done readings in front of hundreds of people in non-Catholic churches, I've meditated in a room full of devout Buddhists, I've had dinner with a monk on the dirty floor of an old building in Philadelphia and twitched when he pulled a cell phone out from between his crossed legs. It's all the same to me. People do this stuff because it makes them happy. They need something to cling to.
I'm a strong person but when I'm sad, I meditate because it brings out the existentialist side of me. It makes me realize how none of this really matters. It strips down all of the stupid layers of this world and makes me realize that work isn't important, family isn't important, friends aren't important... the only thing that is important is breathing really. Because that's what keeps you here. It does exactly what Buddha wants it to do; it detaches you from material things.
I'm lucky to be on this beautiful earth with the beautiful sunlight. And you know why? Because it's all by chance that I'm here. And I'm going to take advantage of it before I'm in the ground because I'm not naive enough to save my happiness for some sort of afterlife. That's just silly.
The Higgs Boson came to light not that long ago and it made me think about religion again, solidifying my stance as an atheist even more, but also making me more interested in things such as Hinduism and Buddism just for the mental benefits.
I mean, religion is the opiate of the masses. And I'm all about sticking my hand in the cookie jar to get a taste of the sweetness. So I've looked into the non-religious traditions of Buddhist and Hindu culture and hold those to my heart as a way of feeling "one with the universe" in my ever-so-hippy way that my coworker teases me about. You know, doing the tree pose by candle light and listening to Krishna Das while meditating. And also, everyone appreciates a little nonattachment like Buddha preached.
However, I'm an intelligent being. I don't think that there's a god in my tree or that the Book of the Dead is true by any means. I collect Ganesh statutes (Remover of Obstacles) because it makes me happy in the same way that my unicorn pillow pet makes me happy, not because I think they're going to make my mom suddenly love the gays.
About five years ago I spent time researching various religions and in that period of time I even read the Book of Satanism. I thought to myself "holy shit that's a lot of animal sacrificing." But then I read the Bible and thought "holy shit this is even more animal sacrificing." It's all the same. Kill things to make some invisible person happy. And when it's not "kill things to make some invisible person happy," it's "cook vegetarian meals to make some invisible person happy" (for instance, in Hinduism).
I've had holy water squirted on me, I've kneeled in Catholic churches, I've done readings in front of hundreds of people in non-Catholic churches, I've meditated in a room full of devout Buddhists, I've had dinner with a monk on the dirty floor of an old building in Philadelphia and twitched when he pulled a cell phone out from between his crossed legs. It's all the same to me. People do this stuff because it makes them happy. They need something to cling to.
I'm a strong person but when I'm sad, I meditate because it brings out the existentialist side of me. It makes me realize how none of this really matters. It strips down all of the stupid layers of this world and makes me realize that work isn't important, family isn't important, friends aren't important... the only thing that is important is breathing really. Because that's what keeps you here. It does exactly what Buddha wants it to do; it detaches you from material things.
I'm lucky to be on this beautiful earth with the beautiful sunlight. And you know why? Because it's all by chance that I'm here. And I'm going to take advantage of it before I'm in the ground because I'm not naive enough to save my happiness for some sort of afterlife. That's just silly.
Monday, October 1, 2012
And then everything fell to shit
My mother and I were doing okay. Honestly it was the best relationship we've had in years. I was calling her every day after work and being honest with her. But it was easy to be honest with her because there wasn't anything in my life that could offend her.
I started visiting her more often, I think. At least it felt like I was visiting her more often. Or maybe it was just a feeling of general closeness. Things were feeling like they used to feel.
And then I went on a date.
For the first time in a long time, I didn't even think about calling my mom on the way home from work. Know why? Because I'm excited and the only thing I want to talk about is my date. But my mom would not be okay with that. And don't tell me that maybe I'm wrong, because I know 100% that I'm right.
I talked about my date with Keely, Kyle, and two people at work, hoping to get it out of my system. But they can't provide the feeling that I want. I want to bond with my mom. I want to get excited and gossip about it. I want to tell her what we did and everything about the girl that I went out with.
The other day my mom told me that one day I may love someone and want to have a baby. No, I do not want to have a baby. I've never wanted to have a baby. I told her that it's not going to happen. The only thing I'd even consider would be adopting an older child one day many many years from now. But honestly that wasn't what bothered me the most.
What bothered me the most is that she was hinting at the fact that she still thinks I'll end up with a guy.
So what am I going to do? Avoid my mom for now, until a better option surfaces. Discussing my date will only put me back to square one. It took me awhile to get our relationship to where it is. So I'm just going to go into hiding for awhile until I figure out how to handle this. It's sad because it's only been one day and I already miss calling my mom.
In my head it feels like everything fell to shit.
I started visiting her more often, I think. At least it felt like I was visiting her more often. Or maybe it was just a feeling of general closeness. Things were feeling like they used to feel.
And then I went on a date.
For the first time in a long time, I didn't even think about calling my mom on the way home from work. Know why? Because I'm excited and the only thing I want to talk about is my date. But my mom would not be okay with that. And don't tell me that maybe I'm wrong, because I know 100% that I'm right.
I talked about my date with Keely, Kyle, and two people at work, hoping to get it out of my system. But they can't provide the feeling that I want. I want to bond with my mom. I want to get excited and gossip about it. I want to tell her what we did and everything about the girl that I went out with.
The other day my mom told me that one day I may love someone and want to have a baby. No, I do not want to have a baby. I've never wanted to have a baby. I told her that it's not going to happen. The only thing I'd even consider would be adopting an older child one day many many years from now. But honestly that wasn't what bothered me the most.
What bothered me the most is that she was hinting at the fact that she still thinks I'll end up with a guy.
So what am I going to do? Avoid my mom for now, until a better option surfaces. Discussing my date will only put me back to square one. It took me awhile to get our relationship to where it is. So I'm just going to go into hiding for awhile until I figure out how to handle this. It's sad because it's only been one day and I already miss calling my mom.
In my head it feels like everything fell to shit.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
nighttime freewrite
I’m starting to see the colors change. Lots of navy blues, maroons, ambers. The sounds are changing. Loud air whipping around, more sirens than usual. Boredom gets to people, I think, during this time of the year. I enjoyed my night tonight… called my mother, my father. Spoke to some good friends about my recent health issues. Nearly had a panic attack at the doctor when they asked me questions that I didn’t want to answer. As I sat there with my swollen ankle dangling under the bright white light, his smile pierced me and made me feel weak. Health wise I’m a mess. I treat my body with love and respect but it responds like I’m an 80 year old woman, it seems. I’m sick of medicines, doctor visits, surgeries, blood, bruises, pain, limping, and the overall fatigue that seems to have taken over me. Even when I have the energy to hang out with my eager friends, I don’t because I know that the energy will pass soon. Sometimes I wish I would just die already because I’m done. I’m just fed up. My body can only take so much and I’m only 24. The thought of what my health will be like 20 years from now is just horrifying. I don’t want to live that long. Fuck, I don’t think I even want to make it beyond 30 anymore. I am so good to myself but you really just can’t fight your genes. Well, you technically can. But I don’t want to. I’m just done.
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