Meek

Wow,
An innocent, meek little librarian. Is that really how I come off? I've never viewed myself that way.
My mouth runs off with words my mind doesn't approve.
My blood boils before I hear the whole story.
I explode. I instigate.
The knot unravels into a hot fire that moves from my stomach to my throat to my tongue.
It skips my heart. It skips my head. If it would pause for a second, I may be more like that librarian.

I am two different people. Two-faced perhaps?
There is the me I can't help. So angry. So brash. So uncontrollable. The me that I hide until I love you enough to let you see. When I think you love me enough to accept it, let it go, yell back while still loving me.

And the me who I want to be. The one people always see first. The one most people only ever see.

The bitter irony: you only see the unlovable me once I love you, as well as believe that you love me.
At least it forces the truth. Dissolves any illusion. The test of true love, of true friendship. You take both faces. Or you don't.

Not the phone

These conversations are too important to have over the phone!
Or email!
Or text messages!
This is our life!
The determination of our fate!
The only way is face to face.
cheek to cheek
tear to tear.

I'll smash the phone!
Smash the computer!

I'll keep the pen though.
And I'll keep the memories.

sums it up...

The Thing Is



to love life, to love it even

when you have no stomach for it

and everything you've held dear

crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,

your throat filled with the silt of it.

When grief sits with you, its tropical heat

thickening the air, heavy as water

more fit for gills than lungs;

when grief weights you like your own flesh

only more of it, an obesity of grief,

you think, How can a body withstand this?

Then you hold life like a face

between your palms, a plain face,

no charming smile, no violet eyes,

and you say , yes, I will take you

I will love you, again.

I was wrong

Now I know what feels worse.

Pain

Have you ever had all of chakras hurt?
Your head, your throat, your heart, your stomach?
All at once? I think it is the worst feeling in the world. Only brought on by emotional pain.

Friends

So far the hardest thing about living in New York City has been attempting to make friends.

Which is saying a lot. Considering I've moved twice, had horrible medical procedures performed on me, have had to deal with domestic abuse (neighbors, not my own), constant sexual harrassment, and just getting to and from work each day is practically an Odyssey.
But nope, getting a couple quality friends has been the biggest challenge.
Maybe I'm picky. Maybe I'm a bitch. Maybe I'm judgemental, but I just don't feel comfortable around that many people. Or tolerant of them. And I won't settle. Plus I'm most attracted to the dysfunctional types, which is constantly backfiring.
Anyway, I've made some progress lately. I think I have three and half friends. But there are problems. One has an insecure gf that wants me to die, one is a self-absorbed, OCD sociopath, and one has some serious trouble relating to people on any sort of personal level.
Thankfully, Mander will be here soon. And I can bask in her wonderful craziness.