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officious seeing eye bitch.

but all the while, i was dreamin' of revelry.
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207. I thought about making this an LJSecret, but I've decided to embrace vulnerability. [October 11 2010]
[ mood | weird. ]

We named our babies. We built a house, occupied it in each other's minds. You thought your name sounded good with mine. Do you remember, how much it hurt me? That it took you three years to tell me I had been spelling your name wrong all along? That might have been the end -- when I learned how to spell your name, our situation. When the verb became a noun.

You know, I was wrong. I always thought I was so good, all the pain just rained down on us, clouds swept our sky and there was no one to warn us. I always believed in my love for you, that when I loved you, I loved you well. Can't you remember that I was young? I loved you, but you were never there to put your arm around me.

Here I am, three years later, still blaming you. For my mistakes. For seeking love in those I could touch. You were always there to take me back, weren't you? When I came running back, battered, maybe a few pounds lighter, maybe weighed down a little by self-indulgence, self-infliction.

We'd go months without talking. Then, eight-one-five, I'd dial. And it was home again. I was always welcome home.

And then I wasn't. I kept forgetting to come home. And that was okay with me. I pushed you into the back corner of my mind, and I didn't even realize it.

That was three years ago. And I haven't thought of you since. I haven't thought about your pretty new girlfriend. You haven't thought of my pretty new engagement ring. Until now. Now, when my mind is screaming for some normalcy, something I know, something I can remember, the smell of the nighttime when we stayed up for hours together, best friends and lovers. Before we ran out of things to talk about. Before my freedom tightened in my chest and was expelled from my lungs and was lost in the Carolinian air with cigarette smoke and panic.

I've been trying to figure out why I haven't been welcomed back into your arms. Doesn't that poem mean anything to you? And then I remember, it's 2010 and I lost you long ago.

This is what I know now: You were the one with all the love to give. I was the one who was willing to take it for all it was worth, sucking you of every ounce and leaving you with the smell of another on my skin. That is my secret. I know. And I'm sorry.


410. [August 26 2008]
[ mood | sleepy. ]


Once again you have plagued my dreams. I am awake now and am left feeling a renewal in my faith, not just in the world, but in myself, which seems to be the harder of the struggle.

It amazes me that even through the distortions and misgivings of a restless night's dreaming, your beauty, both internal and external, your endless passion, and that unforgettable charm of yours do still show through. Perhaps this is why I was so smitten with you upon the day we 'met' as conscious teens. Mesmerized by every flawless quality, I became utterly, and quite innocently, infatuated with you. My quiet pursuit of you may, love, be the reason we are together, but I, in no way, regret the silly things I did, all for a chance to be with you.

July 20, 2008


339. [June 25 2007]
[ mood | overwhelmed. ]

I'm overwhelmed with absolutely everything.

"It hurts. It hurts me that you're unhappy," she said softly.
He lit another cigarette, cleared his throat as if it were tight, and went on, "I suppose I could be philosophical and ask you back, as you've often asked me, What is 'happiness' anyway? And whatever it is, why do we think we're entitled to it? All that sort of talk, in which, incidentally, there's a good deal of sense. The fact is, Anna, I really don't know. I'm confused, I'm guilty and angry, although I don't know at whom. At the fates, perhaps? Or at myself? I should think that after all these years I could forget you-"


01. [January 18 2006]
[ mood | okay. ]

Tell me why we should be friends.
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