we can't move on we can't stay here

i'm wishing you joy and happiness
but above all this i wish you love

i am grateful for the knowledge of pain and sacrifice. of deep heartache and missing someone so hard it physically hurts, of being intimately familiar with the way your heart rate pulses and skips and slows. because it's part of knowing love. joy and happiness are wonderful, but completely one dimensional without the experience of the depth of pain.

i often tell people that i wish i had never met you because i would never have had to set the bar at where you are. to learn what i am capable of feeling. to be able to feel so connected from so far away. to say "you know?" and have you reply, "yes. completely."

today i know that isn't true. today, through tears and troubled breathing, i'm deeply afraid that i won't ever find this again. and yet, inexplicably, i do not wish that at all.

insomnia

night won't breathe, oh how we
fall in silence from the sky
and whisper some silver reply

unwilling to go to bed because i'm afraid of the way my mind drifts right before i fall asleep. afraid of what i might dream.

instead, soft violin alongside a bird's solo chirping. the midnight breeze swirls into the room and lingers, bringing with it darkness and the quiet of the night.

you woke me up again. i'd pushed you into the corners of my mind, where i thought i could trap you, but you dragged yourself into my early morning reveries. i might have escaped without remembering, if it weren't for an unfortunate artificial disturbing of my REM sleep.

really, only you could terrify me with a smile.

songs for you, truths for me

some people are good at constructing neat lines and walls and boundaries, monitoring the pace of their relationships as if they were hooked up to hospital machinery. they have solid hearts that can be cut and given away in puzzle pieces that fit neatly with others. pieces that return to their boxes when the game's over.

not me. my heart runs and bleeds chaotically as it wishes, like a ribbon of blood disseminating in a pool of water. it's a mesmerizing sight... until you realize that you've spilled something that can never be recovered.

restless

i can tell i am, when it's 11pm and i feel like it's past my bedtime. because i'm tired. because i woke up this morning at an ungodly hour after tossing and turning all night. waking up from borderline nightmares, at times wishing i was actually in them. repeat x everyday for the past two weeks. something is wrong.

mentally, my brain is scattered. trying to sit at a desk and do work while thinking about organizing my desk. running errands at the post office while thinking about the next photo set i have to edit. physically, i'm alternately super buzzed/super lethargic. emotionally... well. kindness, patience, and tolerance certainly aren't at the forefront of my mind right now.

i asked for discipline and this is how i'm going to get it. learning that discipline is inseparable between my emotional, mental, and physical being. and with that realization comes the fact that i have no excuse to be lazy in any part of my life.

and so... for the sake of my sanity:
1) mornings at the park. they've been my refuge and source of peace, but sometimes it is a discipline to get there right after waking up.
2) stop with facebook and twitter. i would have closed facebook already if it weren't for client stuff. it's killing me.
3) reading.
4) no meat for the rest of may, barring special occasions ie. birthdays, family dinners

ughhh my goodness, i need to get myself back.

still

not for a moment since i've been home have i felt like i've changed... until now.

was driving home in the dark on my usual route when spontaneously i took a detour to follow the quieter, slower path that winds below the freeway. i miss those drives we used to take.

at first the challenges were exciting. and then i got tired of them and missed the comfort of home. i looked forward to the moment i could come back and savor it again.

but you never really get it back, do you? that blissful naivete. i'm on the outside of the bubble now, and as desperately as i want to ignore that fact and just make things easy, i can't. i open my mouth and shut it when i realize how idiotic/pretentious/pointless i'm going to sound. i listen to people rambling about things they don't know and realize that was me, too. i'm sad for them, and for the me that's lost. i miss the people who share in that same displaced experience, but they're sprinkled all over the globe now. i've grown up and out of a lot of things, and maybe i'm ready (albeit way late already) to leave the nest, completely. but the problem is... where to?