Para Siempre

A note, though I hate them and I feel it ruins the feel of this blog- this is not to hurt you.  It is for me.  I need to write to find out what's wrong and to process, please understand.  If you need to talk about it, you know how to find me.

Are my eyes still the prettiest when I've been crying?  Don't know, no one to tell me really.  All the things I wanted to say, wish I could have said.  I just want to be the first choice again, not second and not because I just happen to be here.  With him- we will always know the other person has given their heart away.  To you.  I gave mine to you long ago.  And they say hearts are broken, but mine is simply hostage no matter how I try to break the bars of it's cage of memories.  I do love you, still, I thought that was well established.  I don't want to have you anymore though.  I want to be pretty and adored, I want to be light and fun and keep my dark and twisty to late night short story writing.

More than anything I want to be myself, by myself for a while.  Yes, it's lovely to have someone to talk to but really more than anything I want to talk about life and adventures, not bedroom escapades and innuendo.  It's so exciting to be young and alive.  So exciting to make decisions based on myself, to run away for a weekend without having to tell anyone where I'm going or what I'm doing. 

I am so dark and twisty and maybe it is all my fault.  But maybe some of it is yours too, and until you accept that blame we could never work, and I wouldn't want us to.  I am smiling now, and laughing and giggling and it's beautiful.

Must stop watching Gossip Girl

Now tell me, what does it mean to have all your texts and messages returned the week before break ends?  You're only looking for one thing, my friend, and I'm afraid you're looking for it in the wrong place.  Clearly no one told you, I'm not that kind of girl.

XOXO

Emerald dreams

His shirt smells like him, or so I imagine.  Wrong, so wrong for me to crave this still-my dirty little secret folded neatly on my closet shelf.  Every night I tuck myself into bed, silk pajamas and chocolate; waiting for the inevitable tossing and turning until I pad over to the closet and slip on the worn cotton. 
The way he looked at me, deep into my eyes, searching my soul.  I thought, for a moment, that everything was true and right and that somehow the world would resolve itself around the two of us.  And then, hours later, of course there was a Secret, one last big Lie.  And so, cry yourself to sleep little girl, you're so used to it.
Hours pass, minutes and days and I'm not mad except that I'm supposed to be.  I still lvoe or love, or whatever it's supposed to be called. And now he is good to me, and kind to me, and I am confused but happy and I'm not supposed to let him make me happy anymore. 
And then, god damn it, I pull a plush blue canine out of a box, my own velveteen rabbit.  I stop being confused and angry and hurt; and in the hours too late or too early to count, I let myself love him.

See

Laughing over dinner and I just can't help but smile- a basket full of pita chips and all of a sudden I am seventeen again and starry-eyed with the world.  In my head I dance through sprinklers and jump in midnight waves and only slowly does reality sink in.
Split it, please.
They just don't understand, they really just don't understand what it was like to grow up here, do they.  Silly girl to mix a new york team with an island shirt, silly boy to not see the merit of walks over virtual reality; the silly silly people we settled for.  But for one of us there is a white fairy tale, and for the other only golden-brown eyed dreams.
You really should come stay.
Frowning you shake your head in disbelief, why will I not simply submit, publish, share with the world?  But ahh, I was never the public writer.  You are the open philosopher, I hide away in my own little corner of anonymity and use my words to lick my wounds. 
It's really been nice seeing you.
Do you remember?  There were ten CD's, stacked in my car with a note that made me leak happy tears.  Later you called and asked about the surprise, yes I had found it, yes Dylan makes my heart sing too.  Months and months and long letters growing shorter and fewer between, and still the soundtrack of heartbreak set to a cracked voice.  You've gained weight now, and I have too.  Your beard hides your chin-a shame for all of womankind really.  My dreams haven't turned to you in years, and yet behind all of my broken shame and despair you seem to know how to say it all without words.  Not for us, perhaps, but for me.  So I slide out of a bear-hug and skip my way back up icy steps-just like a living memory. 
Until next time.

Thirty seconds to hell

The worst thing in the world is when you treat me like shit just so other people can see.
For their benefit, I know, you snap and push me down again and again and again.
I am worth more.
I am better off on my own, this I know, and yet even on my own you still have the power to punch the wind out of my stomach and make me run crying for the hills.
I am better than that. 
I am know you care(d) about me, and I know you don't always show it, but I am so much better than that. 
I am pretty and intelligent and I am worthy of being loved (keep repeating and it will come true.)
Maybe someday I'll really be swept away by someone who is kind and thinks I'm "a goddess" and won't sour towards me in the time that it takes my heart to grow.
Maybe someday.
Not today.

That moment when...

I have shivers running down my spine because I can't even handle it anymore.  Ugh.  Someone save me...so thoroughly grossed out.

Revenge

The bar-stool is half an inch too high, balancing myself precariously my fingers search blindly through my clutch for what my ex-pastor referred to as my "tar deathsticks." The idea of my pastor seeing me here lifts the corners of my scarlet lips a little, the Eternal Struggle for my Soul is lost amid men with dirty beards and my too-tight faded jeans.
Across the bar, a man with dirty blond hair consults with his friend dressed in a tar splattered orange jumpsuit.  They send surreptitious glances my way; I begin a mental countdown.  Five...he snuffs his half-smoked cigarette out, four...he picks through his wallet for a crumpled bill, three...he downs the rest of his beer, two...he slides off the stool. 
One.
"Hey there, buy you a drink?"  Wait, count to ten Mississippis, then glance slowly up through smoky eyes.
"I'm good, thanks."
"Well shoot, what's a guy gotta do around here to show a lady a good time?"  Forcing a laugh I slide off the stool, knowing full well that when I do I'll be standing an inch too close and be forced to tilt my head back to look into his eyes. Cue the smolder.
"What's a girl gotta do to enjoy a beer in peace."  I've got him, his look of longing betrays him and all the swagger in the world won't save him now.  He moves a hair's breath closer and I let my chest heave a little, knowing that it won't escape his notice.
"Well I know a place with plenty of beer and no strange men to bother you."
"Oh?"  My fingers are closing around my clutch before the words are out of his mouth.
"Come back to my place."

The kitchen is shabby, filled with cheap plastic plates staked neatly in cupboards with no doors.  He sets a beer in front of me and swings the door closed with his hip, I survey my surroundings as I bring the bottle to my lips.
"You been in town long?"  He is eying me; hasn't taken his eyes off me since we walked through the front door.
"No, not really.  Just passing through."  He smiles, nods in what he must think is a comforting manner.
"Girls like you should watch yourself down at Jimmy's, it's a rough crowd."
"Girls like me?"  He is around the counter now, hands reaching to caress my body.
"Pretty little things with no one to watch out for them."  I step back, gripping my clutch in one hand and my beer in the other.
"I can watch out for myself."
He lunges, and pins me against the counter, Struggling my beer crashes to the floor and explodes in a rage of foam and green glass.
"Oh, come on don't fight it, you want this.  You can't walk into a bar dressed like that and not want this-"  His fingers scrabble at my chest, my hair- I lean back and dig my nails in.  I don't see his left arm until it's too late and my face is screaming in pain.
"ENOUGH."  I'm angry now- in three seconds the gun is out of my clutch and with a quiet pop the struggle is over. 

Red mixes with my beer's foam, through his back pocket I can see the led of a cell phone screen light up.
Buzz, buzz, buzz- the phone shows a picture of him and a beautiful brunette standing on a sandy beach embracing.
Buzz, buzz, buzz- I flip it open.

"Hi, it's me.  I'm sorry to tell you that you're right, he did take me home.  He won't be laying a hand on you again."

Snapping the phone shut, I am careful to tread on him on my way out the door.