All that I own in boxes and bags,
"Ship to: Anywhere" on all of the tags.
Abandoned and reset, my mind's come undone.
I know where, I know how, I know when to run.
I'm too scared to be here.
Undeserving and lost and holding on at all costs. Maybe I'd do anything for you. Maybe I'd do anything for you. Maybe I'd do anything for you... Would you do it for me?
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
Complexities & Gratitude
123, 123, check, check, 123, check.
In life, you are faced with options. Up or down, left or right, this or that, here or there. All sorts of options that, in the grand scheme, add up to big decisions that are lifechanging when they all fit together, and most of the time you can't even recognize them until they've passed. We're not fortune tellers, but hindsight is 20/20. You always know what you shouldn't have done. You never know what you should do next. It's all very difficult and complex. You could die tomorrow. You could live a hundred years. No one ever, ever knows.
There's a way to think about this that makes it not so overwhelming, I'm sure, but I don't know what it is. Every way I've thought of this makes it more complicated than the last. How will you ever know what to do? You just have to hold your breath, cross your fingers, and dive in, don't you? Well? Don't you?
This is me about to dive in. This is me really, really trying hard to dive the fuck in. And please, please don't let this be harder than I can afford for it to be.
Peace, love, life.
///
This disconnect, this detachment. This anger and this hurt. I've found a hole inside the mask by digging in the dirt. I've given it new meaning and I've set it way up high, so that when you try to catch me I can run instead of cry. I ran so fucking far last night and got so far away. Dropped into another world, I wish that I could stay. You held my hand and looked at me and for a second I. Was pretty sure that everything would be just fucking fine.
You know that meant the world, right? Your skin on mine for two seconds in a way that's less intimate than almost anything you've ever done? I don't know why I pulled away. Well, I do. I'm scared to take more than what's offered. I was scared of you pulling away first. I was scared to look back when you looked in my eyes. I was fucking terrified. And I had the best night of my life with the lights and the bruises on my legs and knees - I wouldn't trade a goddamn thing for that. Not one goddamn thing, do you know that? Do you know that I love you a hundred thousand? Do you know that you're the reason I saw my best friend again? And now I want to go back for her? Do you know that? Do you know that I cried for a little while just listening to you? Do you know that thousands of people feel this same way? Do I know that? Of course I do. And here comes the disconnect.
Houston, we have a problem.
This is Aly signing off happier than I've been... Well, fuck. Ever. Happier than I've ever been. And this is what really matters. This. THIS IS WHAT MATTERS. So, thank you for that. Thank you so much.
In life, you are faced with options. Up or down, left or right, this or that, here or there. All sorts of options that, in the grand scheme, add up to big decisions that are lifechanging when they all fit together, and most of the time you can't even recognize them until they've passed. We're not fortune tellers, but hindsight is 20/20. You always know what you shouldn't have done. You never know what you should do next. It's all very difficult and complex. You could die tomorrow. You could live a hundred years. No one ever, ever knows.
There's a way to think about this that makes it not so overwhelming, I'm sure, but I don't know what it is. Every way I've thought of this makes it more complicated than the last. How will you ever know what to do? You just have to hold your breath, cross your fingers, and dive in, don't you? Well? Don't you?
This is me about to dive in. This is me really, really trying hard to dive the fuck in. And please, please don't let this be harder than I can afford for it to be.
Peace, love, life.
///
This disconnect, this detachment. This anger and this hurt. I've found a hole inside the mask by digging in the dirt. I've given it new meaning and I've set it way up high, so that when you try to catch me I can run instead of cry. I ran so fucking far last night and got so far away. Dropped into another world, I wish that I could stay. You held my hand and looked at me and for a second I. Was pretty sure that everything would be just fucking fine.
You know that meant the world, right? Your skin on mine for two seconds in a way that's less intimate than almost anything you've ever done? I don't know why I pulled away. Well, I do. I'm scared to take more than what's offered. I was scared of you pulling away first. I was scared to look back when you looked in my eyes. I was fucking terrified. And I had the best night of my life with the lights and the bruises on my legs and knees - I wouldn't trade a goddamn thing for that. Not one goddamn thing, do you know that? Do you know that I love you a hundred thousand? Do you know that you're the reason I saw my best friend again? And now I want to go back for her? Do you know that? Do you know that I cried for a little while just listening to you? Do you know that thousands of people feel this same way? Do I know that? Of course I do. And here comes the disconnect.
Houston, we have a problem.
This is Aly signing off happier than I've been... Well, fuck. Ever. Happier than I've ever been. And this is what really matters. This. THIS IS WHAT MATTERS. So, thank you for that. Thank you so much.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Life and Death
Everyone, everywhere, is taking their time but going nowhere.
I don't know where I'll be in 50 years or 20 years. I don't know where I'll be in a month or three months. There are only a few things that I really want to keep. The rest are fluid, coming and going, never sinking their roots in and getting attached. I don't sink my roots in. I've learned not to. I've learned that no matter what you have, and no matter where you are, and no matter who you are, you can lose it. Everything around us is reminding us of that, every day. Every breath we take reminds us that one day our lungs will be still, and they will turn grey and they will deflate and they will fall apart and turn into dust. Steve Jobs is dead. Isn't that crazy? There are homeless people that live longer than he did, homeless people who beg for money to buy whiskey for breakfast every day and sleep on concrete and here, in America, a person with billions of dollars can't make it to 60. How long will I make it? Where will I be when I'm dying?
I hope it's something hard and fast. I hope it hits and hurts and then it's gone and I hope I know it's my time. I hope I'm not begging my mind to keep holding on while my body gives up. I think, though, that's how people feel. I think people generally know, and know it's different, and know they have to give up. You don't just live and want to live and REALLY try to live, and die anyway. Sometimes it takes years for a person's mind to go. I want to write a will. Maybe I will.
If I'm lost at sea...
We're headed to nowhere, but nowhere is somewhere to me.
I don't know where I'll be in 50 years or 20 years. I don't know where I'll be in a month or three months. There are only a few things that I really want to keep. The rest are fluid, coming and going, never sinking their roots in and getting attached. I don't sink my roots in. I've learned not to. I've learned that no matter what you have, and no matter where you are, and no matter who you are, you can lose it. Everything around us is reminding us of that, every day. Every breath we take reminds us that one day our lungs will be still, and they will turn grey and they will deflate and they will fall apart and turn into dust. Steve Jobs is dead. Isn't that crazy? There are homeless people that live longer than he did, homeless people who beg for money to buy whiskey for breakfast every day and sleep on concrete and here, in America, a person with billions of dollars can't make it to 60. How long will I make it? Where will I be when I'm dying?
I hope it's something hard and fast. I hope it hits and hurts and then it's gone and I hope I know it's my time. I hope I'm not begging my mind to keep holding on while my body gives up. I think, though, that's how people feel. I think people generally know, and know it's different, and know they have to give up. You don't just live and want to live and REALLY try to live, and die anyway. Sometimes it takes years for a person's mind to go. I want to write a will. Maybe I will.
If I'm lost at sea...
We're headed to nowhere, but nowhere is somewhere to me.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
I Almost Told You To Make A Wish
I notice a lot of the posts I make here are posted while I'm crying. I wonder why that is. I guess hearing myself talk calms me down.
I won't let you close enough to hurt me,
I can't ask you you to just desert me.
There's a feeling inbetween anticipation and hurt, sharp pain and intrusive deconstruction, that takes place in my mind and my chest, aching and pulling at all of my nerve endings with long claws. I can't put my finger on any of this. It's knowing that no one wants anything to do with me and being able to do nothing about it. I exist. I can't help that, because I'm scared to. And because I exist as a human being, I posess the desire to connect and love and be loved, and I'm so sorry that it's such a goddamn inconvenience to you. If I could change this, I would. If I could be content alone with my arms around myself and my face against my pillow, I would forever. I'd let you be.
But part of me is better with you. Cut out, cleaned, and put back in - and that part of me won't let this go. It's stupid. It's fucking stupid. How do you get over knowing that you haven't made a meaningful connection in years? There are no easy ways out. There are no easy ways over you. I just need to suck it up and quit turning tables.
It's so frustrating, okay? It's me beating my fists on a wall, knowing you're on the other side and can't hear. It's digging my nails in until it hurts and breaks off at the cuticles without leaving a scratch. Maybe you'll come back. Maybe you'll wait for me to. But I won't this time, and I promise. This was your fault, and you can't change that or fix it if you don't come back. And if you let your pride get in the way of this, I promise you're not worth it. And I'll live with that.
okay good night.
I won't let you close enough to hurt me,
I can't ask you you to just desert me.
There's a feeling inbetween anticipation and hurt, sharp pain and intrusive deconstruction, that takes place in my mind and my chest, aching and pulling at all of my nerve endings with long claws. I can't put my finger on any of this. It's knowing that no one wants anything to do with me and being able to do nothing about it. I exist. I can't help that, because I'm scared to. And because I exist as a human being, I posess the desire to connect and love and be loved, and I'm so sorry that it's such a goddamn inconvenience to you. If I could change this, I would. If I could be content alone with my arms around myself and my face against my pillow, I would forever. I'd let you be.
But part of me is better with you. Cut out, cleaned, and put back in - and that part of me won't let this go. It's stupid. It's fucking stupid. How do you get over knowing that you haven't made a meaningful connection in years? There are no easy ways out. There are no easy ways over you. I just need to suck it up and quit turning tables.
It's so frustrating, okay? It's me beating my fists on a wall, knowing you're on the other side and can't hear. It's digging my nails in until it hurts and breaks off at the cuticles without leaving a scratch. Maybe you'll come back. Maybe you'll wait for me to. But I won't this time, and I promise. This was your fault, and you can't change that or fix it if you don't come back. And if you let your pride get in the way of this, I promise you're not worth it. And I'll live with that.
okay good night.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Something To Live For
How is it that I feel so passionately? This introspection, this fear - it's putting me in a place where the fraility of my mind and body becomes more apparent every day, and with each small change I make, I realize how easy it can be to lose oneself. Take your pulse. Check your rearview mirror. Have you ever been lost in your own mind and clawing to get out into some other place? I'm stuck physically, emotionally, financially. In all the ways that a person can be STUCK, I am. I'm staying up all night and waking up too early. I'm selling all my things and trying to get away from the sad, lonely place that I'm in. I'm begging for an out. I give other people outs, but how can I give myself one? I'm thinking back on who I was and listening to who I am and feeling all the ways that I'm not good enough. Help? I want to scream it at the top of my lungs. I want to tear it from my chest. I want to shove it in your face. HELP. For the love of god, fucking help me. Please. I don't know what I'm doing, in all honesty, and it's so likely that I never will. I'm clawing at reason. Please don't hold this against me when I'm gone. I need this from you. Keep me safe.
There has never been a time I thought that it would be like all the others. Every person that I write for and try to hold onto, I think I really will somehow manage to hold onto. I'll dig my nails and teeth in and wrap my arms and legs up tight and you'll never get away. But, somehow, there never is the right one. Somehow. Do you hear what I'm saying when I'm shouting at you, or are you like everyone else? I think you're something special. But, then again, I always do. And even if you were? You're too far out to grab.
There has never been a time I thought that it would be like all the others. Every person that I write for and try to hold onto, I think I really will somehow manage to hold onto. I'll dig my nails and teeth in and wrap my arms and legs up tight and you'll never get away. But, somehow, there never is the right one. Somehow. Do you hear what I'm saying when I'm shouting at you, or are you like everyone else? I think you're something special. But, then again, I always do. And even if you were? You're too far out to grab.
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