Ramblings

[mealswritesfeels]

Despite everything, I am still sad  over you.

[mealswritesfeels]

I keep fucking things up.

[mealswritesfeels]

I long to be a part of something meaningful. An integral piece of something bigger and more powerful than myself. A perfectly functioning cog within a mechanism that brings me closer to fulfilling my purpose; or whatever I believe it may be.

I still don’t always remember my dreams, but I wake up with them lingering. They leave me with a creeping sense of  longing. Of wishing I were somewhere I feel full.

I believe there is a place for everyone. A tribe to be found, comprised of those who have seen our true selves, and who love us wholly. I believe there is, for each of us, a space within some kind of social mechanism filled with love and meaning and purpose. A place where we are surrounded by those who have seen the worst in us, but have resisted the urge to jump ship. I believe there are people who stay and I believe there are enough of those people for all of us to have several and I am trying so hard to believe that I am  finally finding mine. My tribe. My place. A place to belong, to feel whole and fulfilled. Surrounded by goodness. Within some tribe, so mechanism, some bigger picture, I want to believe,

there is a place to call home. 

[mealswritesfeels]

Parking spots are metaphors.

And you can only waste so much time in a day being sad over things that are beyond your control. People are allowed to leave and people are allowed to fall in love again.

And sometimes you're mad because someone has taken your spot, but in reality, what hurts most is finding out that they have been given their own.

[mealswritesfeels]

What I really wish I could tell you right now is that I love you. That I think I will always love you this much. I know I will always love you, but I also know how love can change and grow, shift and adjust, expand and contract. But I keep seeing all these sad things. These things that tell me to "tell the people you love that you love them," and I can't help but think of you. Think how I love you. Think how much you mean to me still. After all the pain we have caused each other, after all the hurt between us, after a quarter of our lives, I love you. I still love you with an almost childlike aloofness for all the mistakes we've made. I love you like I did when we were 17 only bigger now. More grown up. A soft, slow love that is so overwhelming at times, it is all I can do to keep it to myself. But if I could tell you anything, right now, it would just be that I love you.

[mealswritesfeels]

Maybe life is just a cycle of

bad dates and

piles of laundry,

and one day when it all

catches up to you

it will be too late.

Maybe we all die

alone

in dirty clothes.

[mealswritesfeels]

I will build this life

the way it is with

kindness and

goodheartedness.

I will use my

softness

as a weapon

against a world that tells me

I will never be

enough.

Well guess what?

I am.

I am

full of

life.

[mealswritesfeels]

- 2015 -

This is my favorite photo I ever took of (just) you. You hated how I always had my phone out and you never wanted to take pictures. I remember how grumpy you were this day (every day). Whenever I got to borrow the car, I always wanted to stay out as long as possible. I convinced you to get pizza, but you couldn’t wait to go home. I miss this face, though.

People change, that’s a given. The world hardens us. But this is my favorite smile. A smile I will always remember. The way you smiled before Ian’s accident. The way you smiled before Brett died. I miss the way you smiled before life turned us weary and jaded.

I left you because it was the right thing to do. My mind hasn’t changed on that. But you should know, I miss you every fucking day. I think about you every night when I’m laying in the bed we shared for a quarter of our life. I think about you every morning when I wake up in a room you have never even seen. I dream about you almost always. My heart is still healing, and it will be a very long time before there is room in it for someone new. Even when I’m driving alone, you are still my sidecar. I love you, Noah. I love you, I love you, I love you.

[mealswritesfeels]

Trying to bury the loneliness again. It keeps resurfacing.

[mealswritesfeels]

The missing you. It's still in there. It wells up inside of me like little bubbles of love and hurt and uncertainty and they pop like a cacophony of feelings. Sometime I forget how much I need you. Sometimes I forget how gone you really are. I have been pretending for a long time now, because, this job is hard. It does not make me the me that I want to be. The me that I am. The me that I promised I would become. I miss you. And I need you. And I'm still not sure what to do with that.

[mealswritesfeels]

Feeling kinda hot and uncomfortable. Always somewhere I don't feel like I fit. Always somewhere out of place. Where is my place? I'm always out of my element and I wonder if my element even exists? Maybe I am made from starstuff that is lightyears away from the planet I call "home". Maybe I am just lightyears away from myself.

[mealswritesfeels]

Sometimes, I feel so small. And the hole you left in my heart is so big, I think I could fit inside of it. And maybe I will crawl in there and find you, and maybe, I can curl up and die with a smile on my face too.

[mealswritesfeels]

An ode to you. To missing you. And ode to missing. But today I got up and turned on Modest Mouse and made coffee and toast and read Murukami. And today I feel almost human. Today feels like I want to go for a drive through the canyon. I’m working on not telling everyone everything. I’m working on my overt honesty, because I want to be honest. But mostly, I want to be honest with myself. I am learning to care for myself. And unlearning to loathe and fear and hurt myself. I am learning to love better and unlearning the unloving. I find no matter where I am, I am always missing someone or something. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe missing is what makes us a little more human. So, today, an ode to missing. An ode to being human. An ode to more days like today.

[mealswritesfeels]

Social overcompensator. That's me. Middle name, "tries too hard", too many fucks to give, "STOOOOPP". Me with the wanting everyone to like me. Me with the desperate need for approval. Me with the unbending, crippling, anxiety. Am I something to be taken with so many grains of salt? Do people see past the me that I am around people? Do people see the me that I just am?

[mealswritesfeels]

Stop trying to make people fall in love with you. Don't you get it? That's no how love works. People fall in love with you when you don't know they are watching. It is the things you do honestly, that bring the love.

[mealswritesfeels]

No more love poems. No, no more weight on my chest like a heart made of steel. No more waking up in the morning with 1000 pounds of heavy feelings on my ribcage. Now I will only write about laughter, new adventures, something, anything, different. I will write a poem about anything. Anything but love.

[mealswritesfeels]

I cannot save you from other people. I cannot protect you from yourself or keep you safe from all of the terrible things this world has to offer. I can't keep tabs on you or hover over you. I cannot tell you how to live your life or make good decisions. I can't warn you about the dangers that you will inevitably face. You are special. You are dear to me. And yet, there is nothing I can do for you. Love is paradoxical, isn't it? That I can want, so badly, for you to have a good life. But there is so little I can do to make it better.