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.