[ninasdrafts]

(shortened)

[undefinablychaotic]

[undefinablychaotic]

[bloggingtothemasses-deactivated]

If I’m not the only one getting your attention, I don’t want it

[undefinablychaotic]

would you kiss me sober?...

Take me back to the night we met...

You were laying so close but I desperately needed to feel you closer, closer still. I felt as if I would burst out of my own skin each time your breath fluttered across my lips, I felt as though the sun was exploding inside of me every time your fingertips grazed my skin. It felt like an eternity before you kissed me, but when you did...

My world stopped. My thoughts collided, my heart jumped in my throat, my lungs failed. If I hadn’t been laying down, my legs would have given out. My whole being turn inside out, and then right again, with a dizziness so heavy I couldn’t regain myself quick enough. And I wonder...

The way you tasted, the way you felt, the way your hands held my hips, the way your eyes held me captive... And I wonder... I wonder, would you let me lay next to you sober? Would that happen if you kissed me sober?

[undefinablychaotic]

Sunday

Moments are ephemerality.

This is known, accepted, bittersweet, and altogether unfair. Thankfully, with you, time somehow seems to stop. Stretch into oblivion, but only as long as you are near.

As soon as you fade from view, there is a heaviness I cannot explain. I find myself replaying snippets from our times together, over and over, with a riveting obsession I can’t shake or explain that steals my attention from the here and now. Leaves me with lost time that I cannot get back while I’m lost in a sea of memories filled with your scent.

You are the worn dog-eared pages of a favorite book with most captivatingly heartbreaking ending, one I have tenderly read until memorized yet still yearn to keep close and dear, hiding under my pillow to read late at night with tear filled eyes and heavy heart.

[undefinablychaotic]

midlife crisis

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Or where I’m going. Or what to feel about a single thing. I feel like a broken compass, spinning in every possible direction and no destination. I’m stuck in the same place, doing the same things, making the same mistakes, crying over the same heartbreak, just wishing for a sign or tug or kick in the right direction.

I don’t know where I went wrong, or what I’ve done to deserve this, or what I can do to help myself. I’m going to, help myself I mean, because no one else is going to. I just don’t know where to start.

[undefinablychaotic]

Trusting someone with any of your secrets gives them power - to hurt you.

To avoid that, I push people away. I became a great actress at a young age. I would always say I was fine, blame my forgetfulness on the ruthless thoughts running in my head, keep my nose buried in books, and my mouth shut. I was that “shy, quiet one” growing up... As I got older, I learned new tricks. Say that something had come up when asked to spend time together, I made sure to stick to ‘safe’ topics when talking so I wouldn’t let things slip. I wasn’t a good friend because I am not good at being myself. I don’t like letting people in, trusting them, letting others know things that made me, make me who I am. I’m not sure if I am totally sorry about that, but I am sorry that it is wreaking havoc on the few friendships I care about, and holding me back from making great connections with amazing people.

For those I have left unanswered, whose conversations have stopped dead, and whose calls I’ve ignored. I don’t hate you, I promise. I’m not trying to gently ease my way out of our relationship. You haven’t pissed me off, you haven’t said the wrong thing, and I’m not ghosting you. The honest truth is - I have battled depression and anxiety far longer than I can remember. And now, I am dealing with that in the way of great loneliness. In the moment I put the phone face down on my bed and roll back over, I tell myself I’ll text you back when I’m feeling better. Maybe it’ll just be half an hour or so. Maybe longer. It’s fine. I just don’t feel up to it right now. I’m too filled with shame to just send a text saying: ‘hey, I’m feeling low right now, but I’ll text you back’. I’m scared of being judged. EVEN THOUGH I KNOW YOU WILL UNDERSTAND. Then hours pass, and the anxiety sets in. Suddenly I’m convinced that it’s much, much too late to text you back. You’re probably angry with me for not texting back sooner. You hate me now. If I text you, you’ll just get irritated. On a logical level, I know that’s not the case. But that’s the thing with anxiety. It tells you that the worst case scenario will happen. Logic and likelihood doesn’t apply anymore – if you leave a switch turned on, your house will burn down. If you get an email from your boss, they’re definitely about to fire you. If your friend doesn’t add a smiley face, they hate you. Welcome to my brain.

I told you. I can’t help it. My depression tells me everyone hates me anyway, so it’s not worth putting myself out there by texting back. My anxiety tells me that anything I send will make things worse, so I let my phone become a graveyard of unanswered texts, hanging questions, and plans that never materialize. My OCD makes me erase everything because I cannot stand having all those red badges and notifications, all those unanswered texts and emails, calls and voicemails, messages and what-have-you’s. And once they’re gone, I can’t remember who all had sent me something. I know it’s frustrating, especially when I had been messaging back and forth then suddenly go silent. This shit just comes out of nowhere sometimes, and I never know how long it will last, and I hate it, hate myself. Now I’m “that friend”, the unreliable person, the one that goes ghost too often.

Trusting someone with any of your secrets gives them the power - to hurt you, or to help you.

[undefinablychaotic]

Falling

He was obsessed with the shape of her mouth. Not just when she smiled, but also when she was angry or upset or sad or excited. 

Every emotion she felt could be read by the set of her mouth. He could taste what she felt every time he kissed her. 

Her happiness was orange, bright and startling. Her anger was grey, like the beginning of a dangerous storm. Her sadness was black, because it swallowed her whole. 

He was obsessed with her hands. Not just the softness of the skin, but the way she moved her fingers when she talked. 

The way they looked so delicate and out of place in a world of intense pain. The way they ran over his skin, raising goosebumps like Braille. 

He was obsessed with her throat. The way it smelled of vanilla, and tasted lightly of salt. 

How it would arch when she tilted her head back to laugh, and how he could see her heart beat wildly when he kissed her there.

With her lips turned down, emotionless, he wasn't sure he could go through another day. She was the reason he felt.

With her hands motionless, he didn't know if he could handle another day without her touch.

With her laugh never to be heard by his ears again, he knew he wouldn't be able to kiss another throat without wanting to wedge a knife into his ribs.

[undefinablychaotic]

If I Cry Wolf, Will You Howl?

I get bored when sitting in the waiting room, trying to be patient while I wait to see the psychiatrist. To pass time, I pretend to be crazy - Not that I’m not crazy. I kind of am. But not as like the lady next to me. I mean, she has aluminum foil on her hair. I think she thinks the “aliens” read her thoughts, and the foil will prevent it. So, in order to be crazier than her, I have to keep mumbling into my fake ear piece that “I have her within sight but can’t get past that shiny.” That is, until she gets annoyed with me.

“Girl, don’t you know its not the aliens we have to worry about? Its the government!” She rips the aluminum foil out. “By the way, I’m highlighting my hair you fucking freak.”

Hey, at least I KNOW I’m a little off my rocker. Does she even know she is, or does she think she’s here to get her hair done?

[undefinablychaotic]

It's There

There's an itch I can't reach, in the back of my mind. Stuck, like a cough in my throat, making me beat on my chest to try and dislodge the discomfort. There's something whispering, too low for me to decipher. Like a rumble of thunder still miles away, like a radio station fighting static for control. There's a shadow I that flits from my view every time I turn my head to look for it. I'm grasping for it but it's as elusive as smoke, like the tendrils from the end of a cigarette floating to the clouds. There's this thing, this need to do or say or be something. It's eating me alive. I can't pinpoint the details. What am I supposed to say? Do? Be? Is it now? Did I miss it? Change is coming. And I don't know if it'll be good.

[undefinablychaotic]

I keep wanting to say something intellectual but I keep getting locked in my head. I want to let the words flow, catch someone's attention, and hold their emotions hostage until the end. I want to say something pretty, something to make them smile. I want to tear down their walls and get their tears to fall. I want to have them on the edge of their seat, biting their nails in anticipation. I want to cause them to throw the book across the room because it doesn't go their way, just to fetch it in hopes that it turns out alright. I want to write something that is so wonderful it's passed down to their children and they praise it over coffee with their friends. I want to write... But I can't even get beyond the want.

[undefinablychaotic]

I’m Just One

There is so much that I wish I could do. For myself, my children, my family, my close friends, for the homeless man on 111, for the single mother of 4 and no support, for the elderly lady who can’t remember a thing... For everyone. Every single person needs something, and I wish that I could do something. Point them in the right direction for assistance until they’re on their feet, a place to crash for a few days, money, advice that doesn’t fail- I wish I could be the person who has the answers for those who need them. 

I wish I could be a teacher, so that I could reach those who want to learn and inspire those who couldn’t care less. 

I wish I had enough money to live comfortably, while I’m donating to the churches and charities that make a difference and helping those around me who need a little loan. 

I wish I had the patience of a saint to handle my children when they’re having a bad day but can’t explain why. 

I wish I was enough for the man I love, so that I don’t have to lose him.

I wish I could open a shelter for the homeless, and all I would ask in return is to fill out one job application or start the process for disability while staying drug free.

I wish I could open an agency to take in all the children who need a loving home, matching them to parents who want children but can’t afford the outrageous cost of adoption.

I wish I could foster children.

I wish I could be a counselor for the people who deal with any type of abuse, and help them see that while they are the victim they don’t have to live like one.

I wish I could be well off enough to get my daughter every Barbie, my son every Avengers-themed toy, and my baby every Mickey toy they want.

I wish I had the answers my man looks for.

I wish that I could make a difference, that I could be part of the reason that the world gets a little less hopeless. I wish that I could help someone, and that they’d be able to move on to a better life. I don’t want thanks or recognition. I don’t want an award or repaid. I don’t want anything at all, except to be able to do more. 

[undefinablychaotic]

Words, thoughts, half-finished conversations swirl in my head like goldfish in a bowl. Here, there, around, back again and another coming before I can grasp what the gentle nudges are trying to tell me. I’m being pushed and pulled, tossed and shoved in every direction. My soul is bursting, stretching past capacity while the tender edges of painful memories gash my subconscious. I need to release it all, everything inside. But how, with all these elusive games being played? The words that come out are basically intelligible compared to the bright thoughts that are begging to be heard. Sounding like a child while thinking like a woman, feeling like an electric current while showing just the darkness. Nothing is right, nothing is helping.

[undefinablychaotic]

You

Since you've been gone, the snow has cleared, and the sun brought out our freckles. Since you've been gone, he has learned to walk, moving from space to space with a smile so bright. Since you've been gone, her skin has softened and the scars have toughened, her nightmares have played tricks on her memories. Since you've been gone, he has realized what loss is, and tears have soaked his pillowcase. Since you've been gone, we have lost another, and gained some. Since you've been gone, I have relived memories of you, with someone I feel you'd have approved. Since you've been gone, I have found the love you predicted I would, and I have seen the truth of the warning you gave. Since you've been gone, I have wished I had called more, and found a way to your side. Since you've been gone, he has begun to say no, a tantrum ensuing that'd make you laugh. Since you've been gone, she has reminded me of you, and her laugh is infectious. Since you've been gone, he has become a little man, maturing yet still a child. Since you've been gone, we have bonded deeply, and I regret not doing more Since you've been gone, I've thought of you every day, and I've learned to cherish all that comes my way. Because of you, I've found things I didn't know I had, but I haven't learned how to miss you without crying.

[undefinablychaotic]

Time

I don’t see it happening, but it inevitably does nonetheless. There are things I should have said, more I should have done. There’s more attention I could have given, anger I wish I could take back.

In the moment, I don’t think about later. I’m so focused on the now, that I forget it goes so quickly. He’s getting taller, her hair is longer, he’s outgrown everything, and I’m not sure I remember noticing.

I want to capture it all, have a memory that will never forget a single detail. I want to cherish it all, I want to tell them all the stories of their childhoods… but time is gone so quickly.

One minute I am rejoicing in the movements while I carry them in my belly, the next I’m pacing the floors to ease them to sleep. Then I’m teaching them words, just to regret it when they have nonstop questions about every thing. Now I’m teaching numbers and colors, next will be holding back tears while they run off to the bus stop without me.

I’m not ready to give up my little blessings, and I pray I learn to appreciate… Each second, every minute, all the time I spend with them, because it goes so quickly and I don’t have enough time.

[undefinablychaotic]

The End of Nothing

They say, you know, that nothing lasts forever. So you promised, and I believed, that we would have nothing. Forever. Oh, how we loved, so shamelessly! Sweet kisses and embraces that lasted too long, curled on your chest and wrapped in my arms. But oh, how we fought, so carelessly. Words cut like knives against the fragile armor of our love, throwing glass ashtrays and hiding tears. It shouldn't have come as a surprise then, not even a bit. Less cuddling and more time spent in our own virtual world, ignoring the needs and wants until we each saw what we needed in others. Nothing lasts forever, as they say, and our nothing ended... Forever.