Babel

I was under some false impression that this time it would be different. The lesson to be learned here is that we need to appreciate what we have and stop wanting so much. By we, I mean me. I guess. This feels disappointing. He is otherworldly with his patience. I envy that.

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@Kateonbroadway

xoxo
K

Whispered Nonsense

I miss Nebraska. Lincoln, Nebraska is probably one of the most phenomenally beautiful places I've ever been. The grass, the architecture, the path of the roads, they all compliment one another so nicely. Everything feels ancient and the air is heavy with memories. It feels lived in, like a home.

Sometimes I miss Oklahoma. More often I miss what OKC meant to you and I, what it meant for our future. The independence it provided us and the bond we had to create to survive. It took a lot of trust. I am proud of us for that. Remember our first night there, on the balcony of the hotel? We were so hopeful. What a good memory...

xoxo
K

End of an Era.

It's raining. I'm nearing the end of my day finally. I haven't eaten, I simply don't provide myself the time. I'm thinking of you. I wish you wouldn't hang me out to dry like this. I don't like it. It feels lonely. Did you mean anything you said? I wonder if you know how to do this. To me, it's similar to this: I commission an artist to paint me the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen. He does. I don't like it. This doesn't invalidate his talent or my dream of a perfect sunset, it's just not the right fit. You told me you'd paint my picture. Where is it?

If you should ever wonder

If you should ever wonder what I am doing, please know quite confidently that I am thinking of you. In your arms I am known. I am no longer a stranger to myself or to this world. I belong.

It must be fiction

He's pursuing me with a fierceness that I cannot describe. The consistency is astonishing, the effort unparalleled. He remembers everything I tell him and then some. Every time I turn around he's there, somehow. First thing in the morning and the last thing at night, "Like it should be" he says. Is that how it should be? I won't have him and he can't have me, but this works, whatever it is. I'm struggling to explain all of these complicated things to my heart, who loves so openly.

Parts of a whole

Amy Winehouse, Adele and Missy Higgins. These girls know now how to work out a broken heart in a song. Damn. My motivators. All I want to do is write music. I want to write truth. I want to put my heart in a song. So, here I sit. Writing. I watch the sunrise. I've been up all night. These words wont leave me until I find their melody. So I don't sleep.

The only thing that comes is the post-traumatic stress

You think you're such a man? Act like one.

Flats and Sharps and Autotune (does this make me a jerk?)

I currently attend a community college where there is karaoke going on at 11:32AM in the "Student Lobby". Everyone is sharp or flat. I blame auto-tune. Auto-tune is not real life. You cannot try to make yourself sound like the radio. Re-creating that sound with your voice is foul, foul, foul.... and damaging, damaging, damaging.... and ANNOYING, ANNOYING, ANNOYING. I wish you could hear this. No I don't, actually. No. I don't. Neither do you. #rantsofasinger PS- NO ONE SHOULD EVER "COVER" NICKI MINAJ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JipHEz53sU

"We made our beds and we lie in them, proud. Proud of our great mistakes."

Monday, before class, we grabbed dinner at the Eegees down the street. Walked into class, Eegees in hand, sit down and realize neither of us has any paper or anything to write with. This is our typical MO. When we moved to Oklahoma we showed up with a Tacoma full of shit, $200 and each other.... knowing not a soul within 800 miles. I can't help but laugh. I can't really even be mad. It's who we are. We have lived so fully in THIS moment together that the next moment has always seemed inconsequential. We do what we feel like doing, and little else. That makes me happy. When we are one, a team, not an individual, we flourish. As individuals, separate from each other, we wither and corrode into a distrustful pile of nonsensical garbage. The problem is, you can't be a team all the time. You can't latch on to one person and claim them as yourself. We must live independently of each other, in harmony. We have to make it work, meld, move when it isn't easy. When the road isn't paved or the bricks don't align. When my opinion's different and when he seems stubborn and unforgiving. We cannot only flourish in times of equal mind. Forever means forever, not just sometimes. How hard it is to know that. <3 K

Our Gravest Misfortunes

You make me smile. Even when you're not here. Suddenly you're my first thought it the morning, my last at night. The songs on the radio, even the cheesy ones, make me think of you. I am at a loss for words when they ask me how you make me feel. All I can do is smile. Resistance is futile because what's meant to be will always find a way.

If you'll read this

If you'll read this, I don't know. If you do, I want you to know that I'm not who I used to be. Part of me will always love you, care for you, be with you. But I cannot simply revert to what we used to be. It took me too long to recover after the things you did to me. It took me too long to realize I wasn't broken, that it took both of us to do what we did. I am in a place now where I can look back and know that what happened was for a reason. It's a good place. Please don't bring me out of it. Sincerely, K

It's especially peculiar

He always knows when something's up. He can read me like a book. I guess I'm still transparent. Maybe even predictable. It feels heavy to me,  that he knows me so well. It feels too infinite, too close. Lately I just want to be alone. I want to write my music, I want to sing. Mostly I want to be relieved of all the expectations. I'm tired of having a curfew. Imagine that.

Gone

You're gone now, but everything we ever did lives on inside of me. I miss you on days like these. Days like the day I wandered into your theatre and caught you staring at me. Days like the day you twirled me around in the rain and professed your undying love to me beneath the safety of a jungle gym. The rain that came on show night, just before curtain and how you helped me onto the stage in my too-tight dress. I wonder what you're doing now and if you're happy. Sometimes I wonder if we sat in a room together what we might say. The things that may transpire. Would I fall in love with you all over again? Would I regret the things I thought but never said, the way I left when it was time to end? Do you remember all the nights we spent wide awake deep in the throes of a knock-down-drag-out fight? These things happened. Where are they now? They lie hidden away only in pictures and memories. I loved you so. I loved you. I wonder, when it's quiet and you can hear the rain, if you ever think of me.

Holy Hell, Batman.

I have no words for you, only unexplainable thoughts.

because I write for me, not for you.

That's the trouble with letting go. It's difficult.
Among the mountains, between the valleys, underneath the caverns that my mind burrows into at night-interspersed, intertwined, inseparable from my surroundings lies the fear and the hesitation; hides the mourning.
I try to understand, to comprehend. I'm sitting here listless. Frustrated by the lack of feeling. Lack of impulse. Lack of movement. I try again and again, and still I can't understand you. I can't understand your ways. The jumping is the trouble. Sometimes I wish someone would push me.

Daydreamers

You are beautiful, so incredibly exquisite. Thank you for everything you do.

No, I don't really know what you mean.

Says he likes to spin me like a top and watch me go. Says he thinks it's cute. I don't really know what that means.

There are things I try not to care about, but unfortunately, I am becoming painfully aware of my transparency. I fear that everyone can see me trying not to care. But I care. I can't help it. I care deeply, vividly and with fervor (although it is sometimes misplaced). Somehow, though, I have to learn to harness this transparency and become more stoic. It is being used against me. In the most wickedly quiet ways. It is in the way you feign interest and intelligence. It is in the way you word your phrases and catch my glance on certain syllables. It's in the way you act around the people who don't matter when I'm looking. It's becoming dangerous.
"Whatever, I don't care"
"Yes, you do" he says with such confidence it shakes me. I feel trapped. Like my battle strategies have been found out.
I smile coyly and pretend like there's more to this that what he's seeing. I'm praying to the fucking Gods that this time I'm not transparent, but I'm not entirely sure that got me anywhere.

But then it got me everywhere. Because for a moment there, I was being transparent on purpose. And it fucking worked.

First Things First

This is a letter to everyone and anyone who may ever come across this blog space.

Hello! Welcome to the internet. This is my blog where I write very candid (and sometimes not-so-candid) things about my life. More likely than not there will be people included in this blog (they will always remain nameless) that are familiar to those of you who read it. However, just because it is posted here does not mean it is true, accurate, applicable....etc. This is where I write about what MY brain thinks. If you cannot handle it, please make your way to another blog space. It is extremely difficult for me to begin an entirely new blog simply because there are certain people in my life who can't handle the context in which I post things here. There are a lot of pieces in this blog that I am attached to and don't wish to dismiss at someone else's request. I will continue to post what I please. For those of you who have been loyal readers without judgement, thank you. Please, keep reading. For the rest of you, you are not invited back.


Sincerely,
K

Needles

In the wake of the mystery a stranger says to me, "Don't worry, baby. Just trust me." and I do.

You Don't Only Steal My Sanity

I'm not sure what the next step is. I'd ask for your help but my voice can't be heard from where you are, and now I'm afraid that I'll have to be my own salvation. I feel regret for having brought us here, but once something is done...it's
.....you know the rest.

#loveyounomatterwhat

It's Painful

I didn't think.
I didn't think much on coming back.
I didn't think much on coming back to all of this.
I didn't think much about how bittersweet it could be.

Alas, the time has come and I have to think about it now.

But this city knows me well. Upon returning she offered me several gifts of appreciation; mostly in the form of irreplaceable memories. She also offered up some old gifts, ones I had thrown to the wayside, ones I took to the local thrift shop when I decided to change lives. I found them scattered all along the streets, and as I drive, they flood my brain like a Mississippi rainstorm can flood a field: changing the state of its crops forever. I don't know if I like it. I guess I didn't think much about that.