Dance until the lights come on

Brightly colored paper

Lines the used and

Disregaurded dance floor

One celebration is as

Good as another

No point trying to stand out

Goodbye you said

Goodbye my love

One last look before

The tide comes in

Sail away my love

Sail away

Walking on Glass With Strings Attatched

How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?

How many times do I have to break down?

At what point do I say goodbye?

I think it's time you found the door.

Don't look back.

I don't need that from you.

Screaming so loud that I go silent.

I'll just sit on these steps and watch the puddles.

This is better for everyone involved.

Stepping off the edge into........

There's this place I go inside my head where I'm not socially awkward and overly sarcastic. Where I'm just the right amount of witty and can light up a room just by walking through the door.

I've never really understand how people do that. How do you become the center of attention just by sitting down? How is that not something you strive for?

Of course, in the place inside my head I'm also brilliant and fly through classes like they're a vacation. School has always been work to me, not that its hard but it's just one of those things thats necessary to survive. I wish I could be excited about my College Mathematics class....but instead it feel like I'm having to go sit in a penitentiary for an hour.

Why can't I just sit at home and listen to music while doodling on a piece of paper?

I also have a group of friends that other people envy, in this place I go to. We all love each other, we're all fantastically funny and unique. I'm grateful for the friends I do have. Maybe I'm just a solitary person by nature, which really I'm perfectly fine with most of the time. I spend too much time inside my own head to divide my attention between a lot of people.

Maybe I'm selfish, maybe I'm selfless. How do you figure something like that out? Does anyone actually go through a period of self discovery like they do on Judd Apatow movies? Is there ever a moment where you say "oh, thats what I'm destined to do." It's disappointing, but I don't think so.

Maybe it's best to just do what you can with what you have and be happy with that.

The Divorce

Lissy was a seven year old with pretty blond hair and dark brown eyes when she watched her daddy drive away for the last time. His fishing polls and ratty t-shirts packed into boxes.
She'd heard mommy crying as he walked out of the side door. Mommy spent a lot of time crying anymore. Ever since her baby brother had to go away.
Lissy knew what "divorce" meant, but she didn't know why it had to happen to her family. She remembered times when she'd gone to the park with mommy, or gone to the river with daddy. Happy times. But not anymore.
Lissy walked downstairs, holding onto the railing the whole way. Mommy sat on the floor in the kitchen staring at the cabinets. Maybe she saw shapes in the glass fronts just like Lissy did.
"Mommy?" Lissy said.
Mommy stared at the cabinets some more.
"Mommy, is daddy gone?"
Mommy nodded her head without looking. "He went away because he isn't happy."
"Is he coming back?" Lissy already knew the answer.
"No. No he isn't coming back."
Mommy stood up and walked over to Lissy. "Lissybeth you know how to make grilled cheese right?"
Lissy nodded her head, happy that she could do something so grown up.
"And you know how to make cereal for yourself?"
Again, Lissy nodded.
"You have plenty of clean clothes, and you know how to take a bath by yourself right?"
Lissy started to wonder if maybe she'd done something wrong. "Yes maam."
Mommy walked into the livingroom, again never looking at Lissy.
"Lissybeth you know how much I love your daddy don't you?"
"You used to call him your super hero."
"He still is Lissy. But I can't make him happy."
Lissy stood next to mommy and held her hand. "Maybe it was me, maybe I didn't make him happy."
Finally mommy glanced down at her. "No Lissybeth, it isn't you."
Mommy walked over to the desk in front of the big window. "Lissybeth, you know I can't live without your daddy don't you? I can't be alone."
Lissy stood where she was. "But you have me mommy."
"I know, but I can't do this without him." It sounded like mommy was far away. "Lissy, I want you to go up to your room now. Go up to your room and be a good girl."
Lissy automatically did what mommy asked, something she'd always been told to do. When she got to the stairs she looked back at mommy.
"I love you mommy."
Mommy looked at her. "I love you too Lissybeth."
Lissy had just closed the door to her room when she heard the loud POP.
She knew what that sound was, and she knew not to go downstairs.
And so Lissy did the only thing she could.
She crawled into her pink and white bed, and went to sleep.

Ravings of a Mad Woman

I think it's interesting how people are constantly wearing masks. Not literally masks, but they make they're face portray something other than what they actually feel.

I suppose most of this is due to the stigma that it is somehow unacceptable to be anything but stupidly happy all of the time. Does it mean there's something wrong with being sad or angry or disappointed?

I understand that it isn't exactly healthy to walk around feeling sorry for yourself every minute of everyday. And really I am not the person to tell anyone to talk about what is in the depths of they're psyche.

How many times have I been told that I never talk about myself, or when something is visibly wrong I tend to shut down and get angry if pushed too far.

I have never been a big fan of talking about feelings. It usually makes me feel stupid afterward.

But does this make me seem boring to those who don't know me? Does this preference to listen to others instead of myself make me seem dull?

There are times when I wish my brain would shut of for a while, just so I could spend an hour or so without over thinking everything. Over-analyzing is one of my specialties.

I've never been afraid of being alone, not lonely, but alone. There is a difference.

You can be alone and not be lonely, just as you can be lonely but never alone.

Being alone has never scared me. For the most part I do well by myself.

So what does that say about me?

Doorknobs and Candle Wax

There once was this girl.
And this girl had a red door.
Not a new door, but not an old one either.
But a well loved and well used red door.

Behind this red door she put all her memories, both good and bad.
She put all her sad thoughts.
They were all stacked in messy stacks with big blue signs on top.

After every memory she would choose the most interesting sign and stick the memory.
All the while this girl would smile and say that she had no regrets, no mistakes.
Because you see, this girl had convinced herself that if she couldn't see it then the hurt didn't exist.

But one day this girl opened the door and all of her memories were gone.
All her sad feelings were missing.
She slammed the red door and kicked at the wall.

It was the doors fault, it had failed her.
Because you see, instead of being locked behind a door they had all found they're way into her mind.
And so now, this girl I know, is looking for a new red door.

Mint Julips and Porch Swings

There are specific things I love about the South.

I love sitting outside at night, especially summer nights.

The air is so thick it feels like someone covered you with a wet sheet in the middle of a sauna.

People talk about how southern nights are quiet, but I find them anything but. The screech of frogs and cicadas filling the darkness.

June bugs and moths circling the glow of street lamps.

Lightening bugs dancing in yards.

And no matter where you are there are stars to be seen. And even if you're in the middle of a city it's rarely more than a 20 minute drive to the middle of nowhere.

The slowness of summertime is maybe my favorite, although a little hurry and rush is never a terrible thing.

These are some of the things I love most.

One foot out the door, one foot on the threshold.

Sad, melancholy, forlorn. Whatever you want to call it, that's what I am.

I can't explain why I feel that way. I just do.

There should be more than this. I should be more.

But how do you change something when you're not even sure what "it" is?

Talking about it isn't an option. Sympathy is and will not be tolerated.

To say I feel alone is an understatement.

But why am I not ok with that? Why do I need someone to pay attention?

Why should I care?

Saying I need something to change no longer helps.

Saying that I feel restless doesn't begin to cover it.

I need my turning point!

It's not that I want things to be better. I need them to be more.

I need myself to be more.

I want to be satisfied.

I want to be content.

Does that mean settling?

Does that mean becoming complacent?

Unhappiness has become part of my routine.

I need some shock and awe!

Something, dear God anything!

Jumping Ship and Riding Off Into the Sunset

I think after a while you get used to the fact that everyone has disappeared.......or maybe it's left.

You get used to your phone staying continuously silent.

Or, maybe it's just that you try to forget.

I'm not all that sure, I mean I've always been somewhat anti-social. But this has become a little bit sad. I honestly can't remember the last time I had anything to do but go to work or go home.

Now, I don't want sympathy. Seriously I really don't, the last thing I need is for a bunch of people to feel sorry for me. This is merely to put some thoughts down.

I think more than anything it's shitty. It's shitty of people to get so wrapped up in their own lives that no one else exists. Maybe I was raised differently, maybe friendship doesn't mean that you're willing to do anything for someone you care about. Maybe it just means that you're nice to someone because they're convenient.

It could also have something to do with me. Maybe I'm the reason that everyone keeps jumping ship. I apologize for my moodiness, for the fact that at times I can drop off the face of the earth. I'm sorry if I'm the one who isn't a very good friend. It is possible that I've just made myself think I was really great at being a friend.

Anyways, sorry for the whiny factor in this post. But I figured it was better than letting myself become more and more upset by crappy people.

The Heart Aches and Shakes

What is love?

Is it as the movie says? Never having to say your sorry?

I seriously doubt that.

I think love means having to say your sorry, and being comfortable in that knowledge.

But aside from that I'm not sure what it is.

It seems like almost everyone settles for the first person that will put up with them for an extended amount of time.

I think that is what scares me more than anything. I don't want to be with someone just because I'm afraid of being alone.

But do I really want to be alone? Yeah, there's a catch 22 for you.

And how do you know if you actually love someone? How do you know it's not going to fade after a few months? How do you know you're not going to sink into some kind of insanity and lose yourself?

This is what comes from thinking too much.

Valentine's Day is tomorrow.

Worst holiday ever. It makes everyone who is in a relationship feel great. And everyone who isn't feel like the red-headed stepchild with lepersy.

Every other day of the year I'm absolutely fine with not being part of a couple, but then Valentine's Day rolls around with it's stupid teddy bears, chocolate hearts and over the top flower arrangements, and suddenly I start looking around wondering "what is wrong with me? if these morons could find someone why can't I?"

And it's definitely the wrong time for anyone to tell me. "Well maybe you just have to wait a little longer for the right person."

Easy for you to say douche bag, you've been with the same person for a decade.

I wouldn't be surprised if the suicide rate sky rockets during this weekend.

Not even the Olympics can make me feel better.

Stupid commercial holiday.

Living on the Other End of the Tracks.

I've been in a state of hybernation for about a month now.

No, that's wrong. It's going on two months now.

Really, I suppose it's my fault. Something happened where I just wasn't happy anymore. With anything. Not my job, not my apartment, not my friends. And so like usual I just packed up and left.

If I look back over the last three years I've done that a lot. I always wondered why I've spend the majority of the time moving and the answer isn't that difficult to figure out. I've turned running away from my problems into an art.

And so now I'm living at home, with no job and not going to school.

Yeah, this is exactly where I wanted to be at 23 years old........

How did I get here. What chain of events led me to this, what could I have done? Am I really just that unproductive or lazy, or scared?

I'm willing to bet on the scared end of the stick.

There is something about asking for help that scares the crap out of me, always has. I'd rather not do something than run the risk of someone turning me down. Talk about shooting yourself in the foot.

I have all of these dreams and ambitions and hopes and desires and I can't make myself take the first step towards any of them.

I am my own worst enemy.