The Chain

I knew the night would come, I just didn't know quite when. The night when I would sit down and face it, grieve it, believe it and try and move on. Sitting alone on this couch I wish I could do something, change something, say something, anything to make something different, to make what happened better or erase it or let go of it.

Does it ever leave you?

Doubt

I'm doubtful. I'm too doubtful of today to think about tomorrow. I'm too scared to move, to breathe, to think, so I just sit and exist. Everyday I wonder how I spent the last, and I ask myself, like a broken record, "Why are you wasting so much time?" I could write about a million things... a million things that might be more interesting than the journey of my lost soul, but I can't seem to get out of my own head enough to do so. I'm worried. I'm worrying. I don't sleep anymore, maybe two or three hours a night... just enough to function miserably.

It's hard with you gone. Sometimes I feel like a piece of me is missing. I turn around to tell you something and you're not there and I have to remind myself of everything that's transpired. I miss sitting next to someone who knows me so well, lord knows these days I need someone who knows me to keep me grounded. But then again, when have I ever been grounded? As my 20th birthday fast approaches I think about what I've accomplished in 20 years, nothing extraordinary... no extraordinary plans. Is that what matters? What matters? Who matters?

I put myself out here for everyone to see... can I get some help? Some answers? I'll pray.

Again and Again

I could write a million words and never say a single thing. I could say a million things and never hear a word.

Oklahoma, save me.

It was bound to happen

I have so many things to say and yet nothing to say at all, and that, I guess is the magic of heartbreak. If I could find the words to make things better I would. If I could go back in time and change things, I would... but I can't and here is where I've ended up.

Today Was Just Another "Today"

I don't know what to do.

I love you

There have been so many times, Taylor, that I have wanted to sit down and write you a letter. So many times when I have wanted to tell you everything. I wanted to tell you what I couldn't tell myself. Tell you of the overwhelming feeling that I have when we watch Seinfeld at midnight. The feeling I get when you come outside and help me bring my things in from the car. The feeling I get when it's you, me and our cat, in bed on a wednesday morning. The feeling I get when I sneak the cherries out of the bottom of your coke glass, knowing full well that you knew upon putting them there that they would be mine. The feeling I get when I threaten to leave and you beg me to stay. The feeling I got when I hadn't seen you in a week and you grabbed me and held me like I was something you were afraid to lose. The feeling I get when you tell me my competitions are "rigged" simply because I didn't win. The feeling I get, Taylor, when all of a sudden I'm by your side and I forget that I'm afraid of planes and aliens and ghosts and the sun blowing up. When I forget that I'm scared of forever, that I'm scared of dying, that I'm scared of losing you. When I forget that I'm lost in this world, when I forget all the responsibilities and obstacles. When I'm next to you, my fear of the end of this world doesn't scare me, because I know that after this life, you'll still be right there next to me.

That is really all I have to say sweetheart. You were my first love, and I will always love you.

Different Names For The Same Thing

She called it love. More specifically she called it "falling in love". It was where she wanted to be. He was who she wanted to be with. ZE, GG, KK, MC- they all fit the mold, they all held her tight, they all filled the void. Each time it was different. Each time was more serious than the time before- more real and yet the thoughts that accompanied the moments that followed were more imaginary and more deluded than they had ever been. Each boy like a new coat of paint, covering up the old and unwanted color. Every day, though, the new paint would chip... leaving her with the same sad wall she had begun with. And because absence makes the heart grow fonder, she loved that wall, and every time it felt like she was seeing it for the first time. She was seeing HE for the first time, all over again. It is in these small and candid moments, when she saw him again, that she remembered the way she felt crawling back through the window at 4am, knowing that nothing was more perfect than HE. Remembered the way he sheltered her from January rain and not yet knowing how he would shelter her from the rain that came in all seasons of her life. It these moments she remembered what the new coat of paint had helped her to forget. It wasn't until much later that she realized that no matter how many coats of paint she put on the wall- it would always be there.