waiting to fall to droplets

Wow.

Sometimes there just aren't the right words to describe where you're at, or what you feel like you need, or what you know you've lost. Life is such a strange and funny thing, andjust when you think you understand it, or yourself, life throws you a curve... a sharp pain in the heart, a stab in the back, a crappy job or a mediocre life. I always thought I was meant for more than mediocrity.

Most of it, honestly, stems from loneliness. Stems from me discovering (sometimes too slowly) that maybe I am a difficult person to love. Not in a superficial sense, because my life is full of surface-love, of great but quick conversations and people you meet once and never see again. My life is full of people complimenting me on my openness, my personality, and all of those things that are supposed to be really important. But when it comes to the really importantstuff, I am a letdown. I fall short. I don't return calls. I have a hard time following through with things because of my spontaneous nature.

Today, I saw a picture of someone I recently loved. Of someone I felt like I was real with, and that really understood me, in all of my indecisions and all of my weakness and failures. Someone that wouldn't let me play the victim. Someone that graced my doorstep with roses and kind words to let me know how beautiful I am. I know this sounds insane, but sometimes, it hurts my heart to know they could be happy without me. That they could know me completely, all my struggles and all of the layers of my heart, and still be content to live without that. That they could move on quickly and not look back. And in the long run, I will look back and realize that they weren't worth it, or that we weren't meant to happen, despite our chemistry and our conversations until 2 am. That maybe he didn't fight hard enough for me when it got rough, or even when things were easy.

Maybe those things will register. Maybe not. But the more I reach into myself and the more I explore this weird thing that is my soul... I realize that maybe the problem isn't in them. Maybe it's not. And it forces me to look in the mirror and realize that maybe it's in me. That I can't play the victim when I am equally, if not more, to blame.

I spent one night this week alone in my room, a glass of wine and candles lit, trying to be content in solitude. But by the time a half hour had rolled around, I was in tears, dialing numbers and getting voicemails, clinging to the hope that maybe they were thinking of me too.

And I suppose that since then, I have my answer. In myspace pictures, in unresolved messages, in sleepless nights and in broken tears.

If I am in this place to learn to be alone, I am doing well. If I am travelling this confusing road to learn peace and contentedness in solitude, then I'm well on my way.

Just getting there is the hard part.

on more than a year ago and a long-lost journal

Just found this today. Only several pages filled out. So moving to look back on where I've been.


Oct. 27, 2007

Here I am.
For awhile at least.
I sit anxiously at the opening scenes of my life,
waiting to see how it will all pan out.
For good?
I hope for good.
For what is right?
I hope I do what’s right.
In the end, when the sun sets on my story,
I want to know that I helped.
That when someone needed me
I was there.
That when I had a chance to give
I gave all I had.
I want to live with passion, conviction,
with a heart for the broken.

Will I make it?
Can I break past the hurt in my chest,
and the relationships and lovers
that have crashed and burned?
Will I move past my loneliness
to recognize the beauty that is within me?

Sometimes I wonder.

I can be so full of apathy,
so full of my own wants.

A world is dying and I cry over the latest trends
or the life I want to lead.
A world is dying and my hands sit idle.
My heart is resting uncomfortably in my chest,
beating for what will come.
Will I be the one to travel the world
to taste its many flavors
and to give back to it all of the gifts
that I have to offer?
Or will I be the one to stay in place,
to fight for where I’m at?
I just want to do the best I can with
where I’m at
and with what I’ve been given.


Oct. 28, 2007

Why is it so hard to move on?
To realize that what was had
- was wonderful –
but now it’s over.
Why does it hurt my heart to see
pictures of him with someone new,
knowing that he is unfaithful,
unmanageable,
and sometimes unkind?
As I sit here alone, candles burning,
tears fresh on my face
I feel like I won’t ever understand.


Oct. 29, 2007
Here’s to you.
You ignorant one
who seduced me once again –
you just had to, didn’t you?
You couldn’t just let me be.
I wonder why
you have the need to entertain feelings
with so many different women
-and so many of them stupid –
in their blatant ignorance
and superficial conversation.
You couldn’t just have let me go when I wanted you to
back in May?
No.
You had to fight to have my love back
so you could end it on your own terms,
hurting me so much more than I ever damaged you.
To that, and to you, I say goodbye.
And good riddance.


Nov. 3, 2007
A far cry from my last words,
today I am just ‘being.’
Immersing myself in books and conversation.
I have needed this today,
this time of reflection,
relaxation.
Of candles burning and soft music.
Of open books, in English and Spanish
and in the language of my heart.
Of memories and moments
spinning through my head
in that way that only the greatest memories could.
Moments, in all their sweetness,
-those split-seconds -
that help define who you are.

I am blessed enough to be able to say
That my life is something
beautiful.
that those things that define me
are wonderful.

Sometimes I feel like
Such a stranger in my own skin.
In this phase of my life
I am trying to learn to ‘be.’
To remain content in solitude.
To reach within myself
for a soul I have been
disconnected from.
What I am finding
is not what I expected
and not as easy to uncover
as I once thought it would be.

Some of the parts of myself
I am finding are good.
Bur for the most part?
I am disappointed
to know how selfish I can be
and how fleeting memories are.
To know how dependent I can be
on the opinions and presence of others.

Lately I have been bitter,
Off and on,
Reflecting on the ways
I have been hurt.
It is hard to know that
a person who knows you
-completely-
in all your flaws and imperfection
could turn away.
And how quickly.

Today I let myself sit
and soak in the good memories.
‘Walk Away’ by Ben Harper
flooded my ears,
…and I felt taken back.
Back to that rainy day in California,
me cleaning in my sweatpants,
candles lit and that
song playing.
That day when you came over
with roses and cough medicine
and a bottle of wine.
Even though we did our own thing
-me with my homework
-you with your Mac laptop
with the rain pouring down,
…it was such a deliciously beautiful moment.

It was comfortable.
I miss that.
I wouldn’t go as far to say that I miss you,
but I miss the moments.
I miss dancing in parking lots
and on the tops of rooftops, and on the ends of the pier.
I miss you surprising me at work,
and the way we were content to fall asleep on my floor.

All of that is over,
And I’m coming to realize
That I’m okay with that.
That maybe I need to rest more
in the goodness of memories
instead of the way
those memories came to a close.
That maybe it’s more important
to dwell on what was beautiful
instead of what was broken.
That I can look back on my days in California,
missing the way the sun hit my face,
and still look forward.

Nov. 30, 2007
My life in lyrics? In a poem?
the idea sounds so easy, but on paper
and in my mind
it is something entirely different.
How could I spell out
my feelings... my emotion?
It’s not as easy as I would like.

I feel conflicted.
I hesitate to fall in love
or to fall into anything,
but somehow drama finds me anyway.
I find beauty in so many places
-the smallest places –
yet I struggle to find it
in the mirror.
I write a simple song, a melody,
but somehow it seems to me
a far cry from what’s inside.

I feel trapped.
Torn between my man faces
and my hundred different lives
California, Duvall, the Old Moscow, the New Moscow,
Colfax, my Mexican life, Europe.
I loved them all,
but most of all I ache for California.
For the way the sun would
hit the palm trees
before sinking past the L.A. skyline.

But my family is here.
My history is here.
My story began here,
but should it continue here?

So much of me just wants to
see and change the world
to do something with the gifts I was given.
Can I do that here?
Is the Palouse just an incubator
to hone my talent or grow in spirit?

I wish I knew.