life and death 6/15/2014

nobody likes to talk about death.
i know that now.
no one likes to talk about it because it's "uncomfortable" and "hard."
but death is one of the only consistencies in this life.
maybe we should all get used to talking about it...
when we need to.
when we need each other.


i find that i am incredibly cynical.
mostly.
should someone my age have such a bleak view of the world?
it comes in waves.

loss of a loved one,
rushes in the sadness
and reminds me that everything ends
but also reminds me that life is short.
rushes out the gratitude.

I don't know, there's no one who can really say i "should" or "shouldn't" be, say, think, or do anything.

"life is short" is my new mantra;.
i feel like everything i once knew is all jacked up and in little pieces and floating above me in a mess
like in willy wonka
a million little pieces above my head.

when Casey died, i pictured his body lying there,
lifeless. nothing in him.
it was all i could see for a time which felt like the longest time.
i have never believed in a true "spirit/body" connection and disconnection
or at least i felt like spirits floating around with no bodies were pointless...
because what could they do without a vehicle....?

but i couldn't get over this
creepy revelation
that his body was here on this earth..and HE was no where to be found.
CASEY was gone.
the body..here. the body...nothing without CASEY....whatever that means.

no idea.
I have no idea what to think of that.

the morning after he passed, the most beautiful sunrise i had ever seen came over the rockies
and that night,
the sunset was unrivaled by any that came before,



and i saw Casey there.
he was there, in the sky.........and i swear he was talking to me.

that morning i smiled for the last time that day.
that night i cried again...again, and not the last time for him.


the day after his funeral service
i saw a rainbow stretching all the way from A to B and
you could've missed it if you hadn't looked outside in just the right place in just the right moment of time.

but i saw it.
and i felt him there.
and i felt him all around me saying
"it won't be so bad. it won't be so hard. because i am still here."

it's just about time i finish writing about you

but there's just a few more things..


i still remember our last kiss.
or at least, the last one i remember
is stuck in my mind.

i wouldn't kiss you after i picked you up
off
the streets
later in the month
because it felt like
self-betrayal.

it was before that.
the last one, i mean.


we were laying on your bed and you were so tired
you just kept passing out
and i was so confused...
i just didn't know why,
it was your day off
so
shouldn't you be rested?
but you were so tired.
a lot, at that time.
and i was just as naïve as you were tired.
and i was coming off a bad day.
i mean,
it was a rough one.
but after some random episode of modern family
(and you barely laughed, it was so weird)
you shut the laptop and turned away and said
"night"
just like that.
no kiss, no nothing.
double negatives all over the place.

so i turned over and i was annoyed.
but i couldn't just say it. i was locked up and couldn't just say "WHY ARE YOU ACTING THIS WAY? THIS IS MESSED UP AND I CAME ALL THE WAY OVER HERE FOR YOU AND THIS IS HOW YOU WANT TO ACT??"
because i wasn't confident around you anymore.
my doubt was creeping in.
i huffed and puffed and tried to sleep until i was in
the middle
of some sigh and you cut me off with a--"WHAT?"
sharp and sour.
not like you.
it's cliché but really, it felt like a slap in the face, that tone.
i never want to hear you do that again.

and i was so taken off guard,
my body got hot and i felt ashamed but fired up and i said
"nothing! god, i just had a bad day and you're acting weird
and why
am i even here?"

you said, "well---look---"
i felt you turning and i thought, 'we'll talk and cuddle and kiss and
this is normal.'
and you reached out
found my face with your left palm,
turned my head and tried...
well, you
kissed me
but missed me
so it was a halfway kiss and you said "i'm sorry. okay??"

and you turned back around.
as if it was okay.

3 minutes later you were in deep sleep.
i lay there,
looking in so i could try to see the color in my own eyes
and then i was
finding the shadows from the blinds curve from the ceiling to the wall,
and i just wanted to leave.
i just wanted to leave
i just needed to leave
and i stayed.

truthfully,
i still don't know why i stayed with you that night.

but it was the last time i saw you, really,
because it all became too much for you to cover up.
i saw you when you weren't in there anymore.
which is fucking scary.


so really...that was the last one.
and that was the most tragic kiss we ever had.

perfectionism is definitely a thing

the more years i experience, the more i understand that failure makes us who we are.

risks are a necessity because the beauty comes right after the risk.

i accept mistakes a little bit better with each day or each event. because there aren't really mistakes.

i have been examining some topics as they relate to me in a few departments, namely:

1 self worth

2 perfectionism

3 being enough 

4 gratitude

they are all tied together and here is what i have discovered:

1 i am wonderful. i am capable of anything. seriously. anything. i'm unstoppable!! and that is a powerful feeling. i am empowered, i am positive, i am passionate, and i am artistic.  i am WORTHY of all the good things, i am worthy of true love and acceptance and i will not search or beg for it. i will give it truthfully because i am worth it.  

2 we are all perfectionists in some areas. there are some things we just want to be perfect. for me, it's work. i am hardest on myself there because i expect myself to succeed. in fact, i expect success at whatever i set my mind to. 

i am slowly but surely accepting the challenge to not be perfect, or rather, to not pressure myself to be something i will never be. i usually don't wear makeup on my days off. i forget things, i slip up, and i say things i wish i had thought twice about. and i'm okay and i'm human not in spite of these things but because of them.

3 i am enough. not sometimes, not on the weekends, not at whole foods, not in my subaru or when traveling. i just AM. all the time. you all are too, any of you who happen to be reading. we are all enough and wonderful and offering so much to this little world. it's those vulnerable moments, the ones that make us shake and cry and want to hide...those are the ones that leave us cracked and full of doubt. but those are the most beautiful moments. they give us the ability to let the light back in, to see the joy and wonder of things. i come back to the word, i come back to "enough." that is a heavy yet enlightened word. 

4 gratitude is a practice. it's not just on thanksgiving. to actually remember and realize, to be mindful and vocal, or at least slightly aware, of the things we are grateful for is hard sometimes. it's a struggle. when i am flying on an airplane, do i think about how annoying the person next to me is and how i can't believe how rude she just was....or do i think about this miraculous machine that's taking me to california in less than 2 hours? i mean, i am flying! 

it's not about constantly being grateful and happy and positive, because that is not realistic; that's not life. life is feeling it all, and knowing it is all part of you. life is feeling and listening to your heart but then being grateful and honest enough to express what it has to say. gratitude is about sharing truth. with yourself, with others, with the world.

who do you love?

last night, did you go to bed wishing you'd said something yesterday?

and will you say it today, knowing that even if it hurts, it was worth it?

tell him to find me

hello, stranger.

i wish i had time to tell you a story.

it's one of those ones that you

hear

and immediately wish it happened to you.

a whirlwind type thing.

i think you'd like my story.

hi,

if you see my guy walking around 

(the one from the story) could you please

tell him i love him?

and that it's all just here,
inside?

the love, i mean.

just inside me,
slowly leaking out, though,

into other places that deserve it.
additional places.

because it's not all about him.

i love a lot of people and 

i do love myself.

hello again!

could you remind me?

did i ever tell you 

what it felt like

when i kissed him the first time?
it's so cheesy.

it felt like
i never knew what kissing really was.

did i tell you what he said after?

he didn't say anything. 

we kinda just stared and he 

tried to catch his breath.

stranger, hey. 

i know i told you about

the time

he held my hand

as i told him something about me

few have ever heard.

and he kissed my finger tips

and felt the details of my hand 

while i cried.

and then he said, 

"it's okay. you're okay.
i'm so happy you told me."

hello, stranger. 

could you would you
read my mind?

i'm having a hard time understanding it;

my heart keeps getting in the way.

do you speak the language?

hello there.

if you come across my guy...

could you please let him know that

for my own good,

for my sanity,

for my spirit,

because anything one-sided just sucks
and is truly unfair,

because this hurts too much to keep feeling...

and 

because i deserve to live my life...

could you please tell him that

i am letting him go?

that i have stopped 

hanging on to the empty hope 

that he will someday return?

which is not to say that i wouldn't

open my arms to him,
still.
which is not to say that i wouldn't

run to him so fast if

suddenly he was there, just out of the blue.

if i heard him call my name,

i would be paralyzed.

i mean, i would

say nothing 

because let's be real, just to see him again

would catalyze tears, not words.

i would be overjoyed,

stunned into silence,

but that's just

if i ever did see his face one more time.

i would run, i totally would.
but i can't wait right now.
i deserve better.
time just keeps passing.
and this is my time.
he will understand.

hello?

are you still there?

i get that you don't understand it 

and all that i have done

but

just trust me.

there is a better you, always.
fierce and brave.

just waiting,
right around the corner
for the reveal.

see you soon, stranger.

i am trying to write more.

it's this thing i'm trying to do.
i have a bad memory. and i'm...i'm a feeler.
so there's a lot to get out.

but every time i pick up my pen to finish my story about you
(because it's like i can't move on until i cover that)
(feels like i'm living 3 months ago and feeling everything fresh every day for at least a couple seconds, minutes)
(so i have to write it down, get through it)
there's 3 or so blank pages
just watching me.
every day.
waiting
anticipating
the story of you and us and
everything we've ever been,
which may have been nothing and it may have been everything i felt at the time.
no, it was something. it was a lot.


i just can't.

it's just too hard to write anything down.

once,
while writing,
when starting this story,
(which is my life and not a fairy tale which also
complicates things),
i opened up my phone to scroll through and find out what date something was.
i wanted to remember that date, that memory.
and i only knew from our texts.
so then i'm trying to find it and of course
i'm eventually reading all our texts. and i'm just laughing and crying at the same time
because now
going back through it all
i can see it all so clearly.
it's so obvious, when you started to slip away
but back then
i was laughing more than i ever had
and feeling more perfectly fine than i had in years
because you unknowingly helped me see the simple joy in so much
and helped me believe in my own beauty again.


i can't write
because i feel so much love for you
still.
god damn.
so much love is in there
that it actually hurts from the inside,
and it's trapped with no where to go..
restricted by that elastic cord that's keeping my journal shut.


all i want to be able to do is
look back
at these
memories
a few years down the road
when i am older, wiser, and over it,
and smile
at the recollection of your laugh and your smell and that moment in the dark,
and the way our first kiss felt.

i can't write it and close the book
because it's not over.

it can't be over.