Dear You Part 10

Dear You,

Yelling. Screaming. Shouting. That’s all I can remember. Those aren’t very good memories. It seems that every time I stop thinking of you altogether, you pop up again in some conversation, and then I am once again reminded that you exist. It’s not fair. I said before that I don’t think of you often, and that’s still true, but others do. Others have to. You directly influence their lives without actually being in them, and that also is not fair. I wonder if you’re clever enough to do it on purpose, of if you’re so dumb that you’re doing it by accident. To be honest, and let’s face it that’s all I ever have been, I believe it’s the latter.

Since you’re inadvertently in my thoughts, let’s reflect on what you might remember: the instantaneous flip of agreeable to insane blind rage. Yes, those were fun. And often. What about those moments when someone was having an amazing day (i.e. an ‘A’ on a test, a visit with a friend, a birthday…) and you walk in and make them feel so small and insignificant that their feeling of good is blasted away and shredded into such tiny pieces that to even think of that good moment hurts. Those were also fun. And often. Or the times when you would come down, nothing but crazy in your eyes, and yell and scream and shout about who knows what because you never made sense, all in front of guests who became so frightened that they never returned. Need I say those were fun and often? Because they were. And when I say ‘fun’ I mean my heart beats rapidly in my chest and my face flushes and I am brought back to those days, which were entirely too often, when I feared being there alone because I didn’t want to be the only one to face your wrath. I had to be quiet enough to not wake you, tip-toe around like I didn’t actually exist there. Need I tell you it was awful? I shouldn’t waste the words because I know you don’t care. But it was. Absolutely awful.

Does anyone ever mention us? Do you ever think about what we’re doing or where we are? Or do you keep going on as if we never were, that you had nothing to do with us, like we hadn’t a place in your life for twenty-plus years? If I were you, I wouldn’t be able to survive, knowing that I nearly ruined the lives of not only myself but of others. I wouldn’t be able to breathe knowing how I treated them and how I made them feel, how I made them live for so long in fear. I would have eradicated my existence long ago knowing that I was unworthy of what an amazing thing I had. Because you did. You had something that others strive for, dream about, die without ever knowing. And you threw it away.

So how do I feel knowing that I’m someone’s garbage? As long as I’m no longer bound to you, it’s the most amazing feeling in the world. I don’t think you could ever know what it feels like. In fact, there is very little that I believe you do comprehend or you wouldn’t be where you are now. No sane person would ever have done what you did.

But I guess we always knew you were crazy.

There was no hiding that from anyone.

**A**

Dear You Part 9

Dear You,

My faithful shadow, that’s what you are. You’re there when I need you, even if I didn’t always know it. For all those years, I knew you didn’t like him, didn’t trust him from the beginning. I should have listened. You wouldn’t come it, but stayed just outside, an outcast in your own home. The ironic thing is, I wouldn’t have you if not for him. It’s funny how things work out like that.

Sweet is the perfect word to describe you. There isn’t an ounce of meanness in you, even when your brother fights with you and you can’t defend yourself, all you do is hiss then lick his face. You can’t be mean, it isn’t in your nature. Those deep, soul-piercing eyes are always filled with love. That’s my favorite thing about you. Some people think it’s creepy how you stare at them because your eyes are so round and intense, but I know you’re just sizing them up, making sure they’re worthy. I trust your judgment over mine. I’m sorry I didn’t before.

You’ve been rendered defenseless, but not by my choice. I wouldn’t have done it if she hadn’t made me. That day was awful. I cried when I dropped you off. I thought she was so mean for making me take you, I couldn’t believe she made me do it, I resented her for that for a long time. A few days after you came back, I let you out of my room and you bolted downstairs to perch on your favorite chair in the dining room and chewed on the glue and stitches. I found blood on the white cushion and my initial reaction was,  “Serves her right for making me do this to you,” immediately followed by, “She’s going to kill me if she finds this!” So I cleaned it up and, luckily, it came out. That’s our little secret.

There was a time that I didn’t appreciate or understand how much you wanted to protect me. It took him being out of my life to realize that, and I’m terribly sorry. I will never let that slip my mind again. I look forward to coming home and seeing you sitting on my bed, sprawled out like a bear cub, yellow-green eyes gleaming because I’m home. The adoration and love that you emit I was unworthy of for a long time, but I promise to make that up to you every day. You’re my favorite. I know I’m not supposed to have favorites, but I do. And that’s you.

Thank you for your trust. I’ll make sure it’s well placed.

**A**

Dear You Part 8

Dear You,

I never knew what it was like to say someone has lived a thousand lives, but when I met you, I knew. Eccentric, some might call you, fascinating, world-traveler, alive is what I say. I could sit and listen to your stories about what you’ve seen, where you’ve been, who you’ve met, for hours. You might feel that you dominate conversations, but believe me when I tell you the silence from those around you isn’t from boredom or inattentiveness, it’s because we wait on your every word to hear more hilarious adventures from the life (or lives) of you.

Strength is what you have in bounds, is truly what you are. Since I’ve known you, stress and tragedy has not overshadowed your love for life, and that is what I love most about you. Even when you’re down, you get immediately back up and push through because of the internal strength you carry. The most important lesson I’ve learned from you is to trust myself and open my mind and see. See things for what they are, people for who they are. I wouldn’t say my sight was necessarily clouded before, but my eyes weren’t fully open, and now they are. You helped me through a difficult time, and I wanted to say thank you for your insight and your friendship that continues to support me even now.

A dear friend is what I consider you, an adopted mother, a confidant, an inspiration. The absorbing and stimulating conversations we have last for hours, and they could last much longer if not for our busy lives. Lives. Yes, you’ve had many. The experiences you’ve had have shaped you into the person you are, that strong, loving, intelligent person we all see. Not many could have picked up and started over again and again and stayed the same stable, forward-thinking person. Books could be filled with everything you’ve learned, the amazing experiences and foreign forays in France, and those ‘oops’ moments that make you you. There are a couple of those that bring tears of laughter to my eyes whenever I think about them.

No matter where you are, I want you to know that you and I will always know each other. I will always be there to hear you and learn from you and talk to you and laugh with you. Even if your ventures take you to the depths of South America, the Scottish Highlands, or the refined streets of France, I will know you, and yes, likely come visit…for a few weeks. Count on that.

Please, tell me another story Woman-of-Many-Names.

I’m listening.

**A**

Dear You Part 7

Dear You,

Anger roils around you in harsh tendrils, and it’s terrifying. That’s not all of who you are, but when your eyes flash and you let go of reason, anger consumes you and I can no longer see who you are. Sometimes, I think you forget, too.

You remind me of him. It’s not what you want to hear, that sparks your anger just hearing it, but you do. There are days that pass where you are completely different; thoughtful, intuitive, happy. But the other days are awful; dark, tense, scary. It makes my stomach hurt when I hear you and see you act that way. I don’t think you realize the effect you have on people when you shift into dark-mode. It’s uncomfortable, heartbreaking, sickening. That separate part of yourself is always under the surface, and when things change from what you expect them to be, or if things go wrong, it’s only milliseconds before you flip and the room gets colder, and the feeling of the sun slipping behind the clouds takes over. You become not you, but a different form of you. I do everything I can to temper the darkness, but It’s not enough, you need to be able to control it. But I’m not sure you can.

Can you feel it? When the change happens? Or does it just cloud your thoughts and you disappear for a little while until the rage is over and it recedes back into you until it’s sparked to life again? I can breathe again when I see the light part of you return, when your eyes focus and your face is no longer tense with rage. When your hands relax from balled fists and your shoulders are no longer stiff. I can breathe again, but I know it’s only a short while before the other side returns and my breath is once again taken away.

You hurt her when you act like that, you know. She gets sad and I can’t blame her. I think she partly blames herself for not separating you sooner, for allowing you to be around him so much that he soaked into you. He might not be around us anymore, but part of him is always there, within you, and I’m sorry for that.

I don’t mean to blame you for this, I know at least some of it is uncontrollable, but I do wonder if there’s anything that can help with the intense anger. If you talked to him again, told him how much you hated him, how much you loved him, if it would at least curb the outbursts. I’m no longer enough of a buffer between you and others. I’m not around enough for that. This is something you have to learn to control because if you don’t, you will be just like him, and I know you don’t want that.

There is lightness in you, a good, kind, intelligent light that shows through. But if the darkness isn’t controlled, the light may be lost, and when the light is lost, there is little chance of it coming back.

**A**

Dear You Part 6

Dear You,

It’s funny how friends slip in and out of our lives and how those precious few remain. It takes a lot to keep a friendship together, and I have to admit that I haven’t done my part. At one time, we were inseparable. Playing Zelda, listening to Britney Spears and spraying that orange spray in my room are some of best memories I have from being younger. I still listen to Britney Spears, and I must admit I still love video games, but I’ve lost track of that orange spray… and I’ve lost track of you.

Yes, there are things I know because of Facebook and such, but I don’t know you anymore, and that makes me sad. We spent years taking turns spending the night at each other’s houses, doing stupid things, crushing on boys, dating boys (and in your case, dating the same boys again… love that guy) but for some reason, it stopped. I don’t know if it was because we just grew apart because we were best friends so young, or if we were just too busy with different things, or if it was him that distracted me for so long. People change, I understand that, and we most definitely have changed, but that’s okay. We were best friends once, and I believe we can be great friends again.

We had so much fun together. Remember Halloween that one year? And when you burned a hole on the top of your tongue from sucking on too many Warheads? And the day we decided to walk from your house to my house and that dog followed us? We carried our instruments thinking it’d be a shorter walk than it actually was. I laugh whenever I think of how naïve we were. That was one hell of a long walk! I also remember when you got glasses and I tried them on for the first time and was amazed to see the board clearly. I went home and told my mom about it and she didn’t believe that I needed glasses. She thought that since you had gotten them, I wanted them too. It took her another two years to figure out that I was telling the truth and that I actually needed them. Thanks, Mom.

It’s probably long overdue, but I wanted to tell you how much I loved being your friend, and how I would love to be your friend again. Not just a “Hey, hi, how are you?” Facebook type of friend, but a real face-to-face type of friend. One that sees you from time to time, one that knows you. We’re busy, I understand that, but I would love to reconnect and soon.

I’ll bring Zelda, and you bring the Warheads.  

I know you still love Britney.

**A**

Birthday Blues No More

It’s nearly that time of year again… yes the day that has brought on a bout of depression since I turned sixteen. Indeed, I am talking of my birthday.  This time last year, I was freaking out because I was going to be a quarter of a century old and I felt that I hadn’t done anything with my life yet. Yes, I had graduated from college and lived independently but there was little in my life I was proud of, so I decided to change that. This past year, I’ve done a lot that I’m proud of and I’ve also realized that growing older doesn’t necessarily mean growing old.

Most proud moments of being a quarter of a century:

Ireland! Not only is it my favorite part of the year, but it’s my proudest moment as well. I took myself on an amazing trip and didn’t have to rely on anyone to pay or plan for me. My friend Liz and I had a fantastic trip that went pretty well considering we were basically virgin trip planners. When we arrived in Ireland, we hadn’t actually planned anything except where we were staying, and after a few days of fumbling around, we finally got our schedule together and had the best time. Thanks for the unforgettable trip, Liz!

Bella Blue! My Subaru is another proud moment because I bought her on my own in-full. No car payments for me! Granted I did cash in bonds that were given to me upon graduating from college from my grandparents, but it was still technically my money. (thanks MeMe and PaPa for thinking of me when I was born so that I was able to do it!)

Writing… okay for all the grief I give myself for not actually completing anything yet, I do have to give myself props for starting and continuing this blog. That is an accomplishment in and of itself, but I am also proud of at least starting five writing projects, even if they aren’t complete. There are a lot of ideas rolling around in this head of mine, and I figure as long as I get everything out before I forget it, then something has to come of it sometime. I’m in no hurry to rush the writing process (and no that isn’t an excuse for not having a story finished. Okay, maybe it is, but it’s true, I’m very patient)

Kickboxing and Total Body Fitness! I have continued with kickboxing, am currently a high purple belt going for my brown belt next month. If that means nothing to you, let me put in plainly: in one year from now, I’ll be testing for my black belt. Not a lot of people can say that. I’ve also started and stuck with my 6 a.m. Total Body Fitness class for the last five months. I love it, although getting up at 545 four or five days a week isn’t what I think of as ‘fun’ it is keeping my health goals alive, and let’s face it, me as well.

I do have a lot to feel good about this past year, it’s definitely the most productive year I’ve ever had, and I appreciate everyone that’s been a part of it. There was something that kind of woke me up a little last year on my 25^th birthday that I didn’t tell very many people about… it was completely embarrassing, and I’m only divulging this to you now because I’ve come so far and turned around my opinion of growing another year older…I was griping about getting old and karma bit me in the butt. To be more precise, she bit me in the back, because I threw it out last year on the day of my 25^th birthday while stepping out of the bloody shower and bending over to grab my towel. There was no significant moving of the spine in some twisting fashion to reach for the towel, and the towel didn’t weigh fifty pounds, so why did my back get thrown out? To show me that yes, I am getting older, and there’s nothing I can do about it. All the bitching and stressing and brooding cannot change the inevitable: I will grow older each year, but only my perspective on age is going to limit me unless I do something about it. Consider it a great epiphany at a quarter of a century, a lesson learned. I suffered through my back being out without telling a single person the entire day because I was too embarrassed, but this year I’ve got nothing to hide. Scotland to look forward to, posts to write and share, books to read and, hopefully, write, and friends to see and have fun with. Oh, and did I mention that this year is my golden year? That’s right, 26 on the 26^th. By looking back and reflecting in my posts, it helps to look forward to my future. I’ve got my black belt training this next year, too. That’s going to be interesting, intense, insane, and a ton of other words that start with ‘in’ (including but not limited to informative (about myself mostly) inspirational, and inclusive. Not sure how that last word’s going to fit, or what I mean by it exactly, but I’ll make it happen.)

26. Bring. It. On.

Dear You Part 5

Dear You,

There were nights I would sit up and pretend that you could hear me.  I stared at the moon in child-like hope that you were still out there somewhere. I used to call the moon Gushy, your nickname, do you remember that? It’s been fifteen years, and I still remember where I was and what I was doing when I received the phone call. I haven’t been able to watch the movie Money Train since because I think something bad is going to happen if I do. Every time it’s on, I flip by it on the T.V. and hope that by catching the briefest part I haven’t doomed someone else I know to suffer. It’s crazy, I know, but I won’t watch it.

We were young and quickly becoming best friends. I know we’d still know each other today if not for the accident. Just a few weeks before, we were at camp, freezing because it was early spring in the Pacific Northwest, and we were right on the water. Cypress was the name of our cabin. I can still feel the icy nights when everyone had to double bunk just to stay warm. Why they don’t have doors or windows on the cabins is beyond me. You were my bunk buddy. I was afraid to be away from my mom, and I’d never been on my own for so many days before, but having you there helped me get through it, and even enjoy my time with everyone. Your friendship helped me grow in such a short amount of time, and I’m grateful for that.

We planted a tree for you at school in your memory. A tree wasn’t enough, but I think the teachers were at a loss having lost such a young student. It’s still there today, with a nifty little plaque and everything. I’ll make sure to go visit the next time I’m in town. It’s been a long time since I saw that tree, but I have it on good authority that it’s still standing. I’d visit your grave if I knew where it was. Your mom left town not too long after it happened. I don’t know how to get in contact with her, or I’d ask.

It was the first funeral I attended with an open casket. My friend’s mom said it helped with the grieving process if we viewed the body one last time. I don’t know if it helped me, but it didn’t scare me as much as I thought it would. You didn’t look like you. They had you in a dress! You never wore dresses. You had purple sweatpants that you loved, and I think they should have had you in those. Comfortable. That’s what you enjoyed, being comfortable. I hated that dress. Your face was pale and flat. No roundness of life was found in your cheeks, and that only made me sad. The last picture I have of you is not how I’d like to have remembered you, but nonetheless it’s there. They really shouldn’t have put you in a dress.

People say that scent is the strongest tie to memory. I think that’s true. There was a scent at your funeral when the man walked down the aisle carrying something that burned in a little box. I will never forget that smell. It was thick, and clung to your lungs, and every time I smell it I look around and try to find where it’s coming from as the picture of you flashes through my mind. But it never seems to be coming from the same place. It’s kind of nice when it pops up because I think of you.

I wish you were here. I miss you.

**A**

Dear You Part 4

Dear You,

I love you. I never tell you that, but I do. We are very similar, and I’ve only just begun to realize it. You are so strong, and I look up to you for that, well maybe not up physically because you’re shorter than me now. I think I passed you in about sixth grade. There were times when I thought you might slip, fall, but you didn’t. You pushed through everything: all the worries, all the stress, all the bloody mess that was made of your life, our lives, and you are a better person because of it. So many things changed in such a short amount of time, but you kept your head held high, even if you did recede from the social pool for a while, even if you did shut some people out for a bit. You carried on, and that’s what matters.

I’m proud of you. I never tell you that, but I am. After so many years of not working, and not having to do the daily grind like so many, you went out and found a job and stuck with it. It’s been three years, if I’m not mistaken, and for your first real job, I think that’s amazing. It was difficult for you at first, but you overcame your fear: of working, of living on your own, of computers. That silent confidence you and I share carried you through, and will always carry you through because you have strength in abundance. Thank you for passing that on to me.

I’m happy for you. I never tell you that, but I think you know. Your life is so much better now without the constant feelings of dread and worry. The black hole of negative energy that nearly sucked the life and good out of all of us is gone, and your color has come back. Your eyes shine. The universe is once again aligned and you are stable. Finally. It must be a relief to be able to breathe on your own again, after having carried someone and lived for them for so long. Your kindness is also your weakness, but we’ll work on that. One thing at a time, right? You’re free, and that’s the first and most important step.

I miss you. I never tell you that, but I’m telling you now. When you first got your job, I accidentally called you at home during the middle of the day and was perplexed when you didn’t answer. You always answered. Silly me, I’d forgotten that you were at work and that you couldn’t just pick up the phone anymore, couldn’t wait around for me anymore. I was a little upset when I first had that realization that you weren’t easily accessible any longer like you had been my entire life, but I got over that. Now I just call you at 6:15 when you step foot in the door after a long day at work. You still always answer my call, even if you’re weary, hungry, sleepy. I can hear it in your voice that you’re happy I called, even if you’ve got ten other things to do. I’m selfish like that. But you don’t seem to mind.

I love you. I never tell you that, but I do.

**A**

Dear You Part 3

Dear You,

There aren’t very many days where you pass through my thoughts, and I rejoice in that. You did, however, come up the other day when one of my best friends told me she killed you in a dream. I laughed and asked how she’d done it. She said with a shotgun. My response was, “Shotgun… cool.” No joke. I have it in writing. It’s funny to think it’s been five years almost to the day since I saw you last. And it doesn’t bother me. I used to think that it was weird to feel so detached from you, but it doesn’t anymore. It’s freeing. I have no worries when it comes to you not being in my life, him, on the other hand, I worry about him.

He didn’t see what we all saw, he saw things differently. Saw you differently. Do you ever wonder why he held on when no one else did? You’ve hurt him through your actions. Ugh, I hate that word, ‘actions’. It implies doing something. I’ve used it inappropriately. You didn’t do anything, you did nothing. You didn’t call him back when he called you to beg you to pick him up. You didn’t call when he wanted to be with you over a holiday weekend, when he wanted to spend time with you. You did nothing, said nothing, acted on nothing, even though all signs in his eyes were pointing in your favor. I can’t speak for him now, but I think his eyes are closed to you forever.

We don’t speak of you. Not even in a He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named sort of fashion. You’re so far gone that you probably wouldn’t even get that reference. I can see the hurt in his eyes, the pain. The tough attitude he takes on to pretend that it doesn’t matter that you’re not around. It’s painful to see, hard to ignore, but I don’t say anything. Won’t say anything. It terrifies me to see what I see in his eyes because I don’t want him to hurt that way, and I hate that you’re the one that put it there. The one that caused it. It’s sickening. I’ve never known someone to be such a coward.

You run. Not in an I’m-trying-to-stay-healthy sort of way, but in an I’m-trying-to-leave-everyone-far-behind-so-I-can-bury-my-head-and-not-have-to-deal-with-all-the-wrong-decisions-I’ve-made sort of way. Let me tell you, you’ve made a lot of wrong decisions, and deciding to ignore him for so long was the worst one.

He would have held on if you’d allowed it.

**A**

Dear You Part 2

Dear You,

Simply put, you inspire me. I’m there every day because of you, to be taught by you, to learn from you. You say, ‘Jump!’ and I don’t just say ‘How high?’ I say ‘How high, for how long, and would you like me to do it on one foot?’ I put all of myself into it not because I don’t want to disappoint myself, but because I don’t want to disappoint you.  That might not be what you want to hear, don’t get me wrong, I do it for myself, but you’re the reason why. I’m not sure you know how amazing you are, how people see you, and how you make us all feel. Seen. Appreciated. Loved. You care, and we know that, we see that, and we thank you for it.

Energy surrounds you, encompasses you, is you. A bubbling ball of uber energy that starts my day off in the perfect way. We leave with a piece of you, and we leave a little piece of us behind too, sometimes in the form of a sweaty puddle on the floor. That would be gross for most, but we know you appreciate it because it means we’ve given it all and more.

Sometimes we arrive and our eyes are still nearly closed, brains hazy, thoughts of ‘How did I get here?’ flit through our minds as we stand on the floor and start to stretch. Within an hour, you’ve worked us head to toe, have us thinking and planning for our day, making us better people mind and body and preparing us to make healthy decisions throughout the day. Those are decisions I would not have made on my own, but you made me think, and see, and choose differently. I know I’m not the only one that feels that way, and to be able to touch so many is a unique and amazing gift.

My favorite day of the week is Monday. Not a lot of people can say that, in fact, I think almost everyone I know would heartily disagree with me, but I always look forward to Monday. Not just because it’s the start of my weekly routine, and I LOVE my routine, and not just because I get to see everyone I’ve become friends with over the last couple of years, although that’s a plus too. It’s because I get to start my week with the most positive influence I’ve ever met: You. I begin Monday and end Monday in the same way: leaving a piece of myself behind on the floor, and leaving with a positive, energetic, amazing piece of you.

Thank you for who you are and what you do. You are an inspiration.

**A**

Dear You Part 1

Dear You,

My heart bled for a while. Well, more than a while. I think it still bleeds a little, but not for you any longer. Because of you, perhaps, and because of a few others, but not for you, and that’s what’s most important. It took so long for me to pull down the wards that bound me, hid me, healed me. So many times I thought I was ready, I wasn’t, and as each layer was painfully peeled back, I realized I was more raw than I’d thought. It hurt. There were many times I would lie awake, exhausted and wretchedly overtired, but unable to slip into the comfort of sleep because my thoughts were of you. For months, my dreams were haunted by images of you, and to be honest, they sometimes still are. When I waken, it’s no longer to the thought of you. My first thoughts aren’t of betrayal, infinite sadness, questions. ‘Why’ always seemed to be the one I asked most, but I no longer wonder or wish for answers. It’s a relief to no longer dwell on those thoughts, wasted energy, too much negativity. It was surprisingly easy to board myself up, close the lid tightly, and wait for the time where I was no longer numb. I don’t need to tell you that it took a long time, but I guess I just did.

There’s equal blame, although many close to me would say that’s not true, but I know it to be. Equal blame because of lack of focus, inattentiveness, and just plain not wanting to be there on both our parts. I’d checked out long before the incident, and I only realized that after you were no longer around. It took you not being present in my life to understand and see how far I’d fallen, what I’d lost in my pursuit of you, all things for you, and completely submerging myself in the blackness of delusion and blindness. Love is blind. Truth. Love is pain. Truth. Love is also honesty, and that word was never in your vocabulary, and that is also why there is equal blame. I knew that long before we were ever ‘us’. Foolishly, I put myself away to replace me with you, and that is one mistake I have painfully paid for. It’s taken me this long to put my feelings in words, but I’m whole again, and you no longer matter.

To say I loved you is far too simple a phrase. I lived for you, faithfully followed you, would have done anything for you, but it was never reciprocated and I shamefully allowed myself to continue on in a pathetic existence just to be near you. You have a power about you, something akin to charisma, but more, that just draws people to you. A magic of sorts, I suppose. I was addicted to it for years, and didn’t even realize it until you started to slip away. When my thoughts started to be my own, and your attention strayed elsewhere were the most confusing, intense months of my life, but I can’t say I hate you for it. I don’t.

You said you’d wished that it had ended differently, well I can’t say the same. You did what you did and that only helped to make me see what people are capable of. Dark, messy things we are, with infinite ways to disappoint, twist, and manipulate. Ugly. There are parts to everyone that aren’t as light as we’d like to think. Thoughts that lurk in our minds, deeds we might not plan on but carry out anyway, even if we know it will hurt someone close to us. That’s what you showed me, and I can’t say I’m sorry to have learned that.

I would have loved you forever, at the cost of hating myself. Luckily, that part of me no longer exists, and the new version of me would never allow for that to happen. I suppose I have you to thank for that. 

**A**

**Note about blog: The subject of ‘Dear You,’ differs between posts. This is the first, but it shall not be the last, I’m already working on the next one, and it’s a different subject. The focus always changes, and while some may be repeated, I won’t name names and I will try not to bore with bitching or complaining too much. Promise.

Genius strikes... in my car???

So. It’s been a while since I’ve posted. A looooong while. I’m just gonna jump right in.

I had an epiphany on my way to work today. I swear, I have my most brilliant moments while I’m driving… weird, I know.

I’ve been reading a lot of books lately, and when I say a lot, I mean A LOT. I’ve finished 10 books in less than a month. That’s more than some people read in an entire year. Shit. I’m constantly moving, going, pushing forward, wanting more, not getting enough, looking for something. Answers. Anything. And I’m not finding it. But, on my way in to work today, I’ve at least figured out a reason why my brain is constantly never focused on one thing at a time.

I don’t like it when things end.

Most people don’t like change, that’s not me. I like change, I like different things, new things. I’m all good until it comes to an end, and then my brain goes ape-shit. It doesn’t know what to do with itself. It sees the end coming, and then tries to procrastinate as long as it can so that whatever I’m doing doesn’t have to end. And it’s driving me fucking crazy. Well, at least it did until I figured out why I was doing what I was doing. I honestly don’t know why I haven’t noticed it before. It’s why I jump from book to book, because I crave the unending adventure, the fun, the characters and their quirks and personalities and how they interact. Go, go, go. That’s what I do, what I’ve done for years and it’s taken me this long to figure it out. I am relieved.

I’m slowing it down, and by ‘it’ I mean reading, not my brain, there’s simply no controlling that. But if I focus on one story, one book at a time (did I mention I often read two, or three books at once? Not literally, of course, but throughout the day I’ll read pages from multiple books) in order to allow myself to focus and calm the fuck down. My brain has been on hyper overdrive lately and it’s too much. *takes deep breath* I feel better already.

So, now to get the reason behind the post: my writing. Ugh, I’ve been suffering lately, well lately being since I finished college which was three years ago. Three years has passed and I’ve been unable to finish one book. Shit, forget one book, one short story. One outline! I’ve got nothing to show for all the writing I’ve done in the past three years. Having worked on five ideas in the past year, I’ve got hundreds of pages of writing, notes, rewrites, and nothing that’s even close to being complete.

Enter: EPIPHANY!

I don’t like things to end. At all. It makes me sad. And mad. And frustrated because why couldn’t it keep going? It was Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” that says the movie never ends, it goes on, and on, and on, and on.….. well, that’s the way I see it. I imagine that the movie keeps on going, the characters have a life after the credits roll. Because I don’t want it to end. *sigh* yes, that’s me, the helpless romantic that knows they will continue to love each other even after the movie’s over, even though the divorce rate hovers around 50%. Now that I’ve figured it out, however, I believe my incredible writer’s block/insane inability to focus and produce something has finally (after many, many years) come to an end.

The relief I’m feeling is tantamount to sitting between siblings on a car trip and having to pee for hours but your parents won’t stop because they want to make time, and when you finally do get to fling yourself out of the car, bladder nearly bursting, and shove your way into the dirty bathroom stall at a rest stop and blessedly get to relieve yourself in a rush akin to the flow of Niagra Falls, that, my friends, is what I’m feeling right now.

*sigh*