Where to find me.

I just noticed that I'm beginning to get some new comments on my old posts here!

I apologize for not getting any notifications when I receive new comments. Please know that me updating on this blog is extremely rare, and that if you'd like to read more of what I write, I highly suggest you go here. That is where I write nearly every day.

Thank you! A million times.

10 posts from the graveyard.

today i was looking through my old entries, and discovered 10 drafts that were written, but never published.

some completed, some unedited, some that stop cold right in the middle of a sentence. i don't know why today was the day, but i felt inspired by who i was, and what my thoughts were then. it's almost as if someone else had written them, in some cases. i think these unfinished thoughts deserved to be risen from their graves. i know it doesn't make up for all the months i've gone without writing, but i'd love it if you'd read them.

so i've published all of them below, titled "unpublished, unedited".

unpublished, unedited. (10)

i used to make my own candles. i used to make whatever face i felt like in pictures. i used to go to the beach in the middle of the night. i used to have a wall covered in records. i used to be a gymnast. i used to work for a television station. i used to sit on top of water towers. i used to brave mosh-pits. i used to have my lip pierced. i used to stand on top of large rocks on windy days, and lean into the wind. i used to write letters to friends everyday in school. i used to draw pictures. i used to take the bus to everyday. i used to spend hours on the swing in my front yard. i used to try to find haunted houses. i used to sit on my roof and watch the sun come up. i used to love a boy. i used to cry every day after he was gone.

(This was written on 11/20/10)

unpublished, unedited. (09)

it's unbearable to be sad, but difficult to be happy; because when you're happy, you know that you're at the mercy of others. i can control what i do, but i can't control what others will do to me.

(This was written on 11/3/10)

unpublished, unedited. (08)

I never realized I had become that girl.

That elusive girl, the one that's always slightly out of reach. I don't know what it is about me that makes me so detached from taking phone calls, and makes me slow to answer emails, blog comments, texts. Sometimes I don't know what to say when people are so kind. Sometimes it's hard to acknowledge that people even read this, because thinking of it gives me writer's block.

Since I was 18 I haven't stayed in one place. I've always been moving, just when I seem to get settled somewhere. Nothing has ever felt right. I always tell myself that I can be a

(This was written on 7/27/10)

unpublished, unedited. (07)

to the one that broke my heart.

there's still a void in my life where you once fit perfectly. who you've chosen to fill your void with now makes me feel like you're living a lie. it keeps me awake at night, but it's also the only reason i can sleep. because i know everything you're pursuing right now is a lie.

you're 17 again, dating fake girls that you easily outsmart. there's no challenge for you. she may make you laugh, and at least it's someone to fuck... but i wonder if she has a false sense of security, thinking that you haven't been lying to her from the beginning. i know you're lying to her. your entire life is a lie, and i can tell because if you actually stood behind anything you're doing right now, i think you'd actually have your real friends in your life. how is that working out for you? you know, living with the co-worker you talked shit about since you met him. remember how you wanted to switch departments because you couldn't stand him? remember only going to his house for the free alcohol? remember how much smarter you are than all those people in that house?

you're compromising everything you are just because you can't face the challenge of confronting your depression, the loss of your best friend, or being true to yourself at all. if your friends could see you now. but then again, you haven't spoken to any of them have you? what are you so afraid of? don't pretend that the reason you haven't is because you've been busy for the past six months, because i'm sure you haven't even spoken to them now.

how is sleeping on the couch going? how is no air conditioner in the middle of the summer going? how is it to be surrounded by strangers, lover? please tell me, because i don't understand. one thing i do understand is that if you start fucking someone long enough, they expect you to settle down, and you begin the delusion that you have real feelings for them. i predicted this. i told you would start dating her, and you wouldn't leave the city. you swore that wasn't true, because you said you didn't want to be in a relationship, and you didn't want to commit and become a part of someone else other than me.

there are two scenarios. you're either lying to all of them, or you're becoming them. and both are shit.

(This was written on 6/28/10)

unpublished, unedited. (06)

i want to swim. i want to bathe in sunlight. i want to read more often. i want to eat funnel cake for breakfast. i want to eat breakfast for dinner. i want to get lost in a book store. i want to smile at strangers. i want to sit in the grass and play scrabble. i want to watch foreign films without needing subtitles. i want to sew a dress while wearing nothing. i want to sleep naked. i want my room to be filled with sunlight. i want the sky to be cloudy. i want tea and sweaters to keep me warm. i want your body to keep me warm. i want to hear music everywhere. i want to wear a skirt everyday. i want to drive with bare feet. i want to see with my eyes closed. i want to settle and wander all at once. i want windblown hair that makes its own decision of what it sees fit. i want to fall in love in every city. i want to fall in love with every city. i want to rise before the sun. i want to sleep until the moon appears. i want to ride a bicycle through empty sidewalks. i want to be invisible and wander unseen. i want to be uninhibited. i want to exist in an environment without disturbing it. i want to make breakfast wearing only underwear. i want to own no makeup. i want to feel naked fully clothed. i want to feel music. i want the music to drown out my voice. i want my voice to drown out the music. i want to dance. i want to be submerged in a pile of books. i want to be submerged in bath water that never grows cold. i want another language to replace my own. i want to remain in love. i want to remain in bed with him an hour longer every morning. i want the sun roof open and the windows down. i want the sun in my eyes. i want an orgasm to last for days. i want my heart to race only for love and never for fear. i want to understand my own beauty without someone to translate it to me. i want to learn from literature and experience. i want to play in the snow and not lose the feeling in my fingers. i want a fireplace in every room. i want a movie to feel just as new as the first time i saw it. i want to revisit my childhood for one day. i want to simply want a shower, never need one. i want to my perception, reflection, and pictures to be the same.

(This was written on 6/13/09)

unpublished, unedited. (05)

i've been meaning to write, but on some days the state of mind i'm in does not permit it. on the days where i'm exhausted, i try not to write, because i begin to feel false feelings of stress and sadness caused by the lack of sleep.

however, i did just take a four hour nap, which has been way more than overdue.

lover and i move into our new place on friday, and i think i'm so excited that i have to force myself to not be excited, or else i'll start i will find it even more difficult to sleep at night! everyone else of course rolls their eyes in horror when i tell them we've chosen the 2nd story unit, but frankly, i'd rather be the one

(This was written on 5/27/09.)

unpublished, unedited. (04)

i hate to lie, but i had been asked to. throughout my explanation which seemed to last for hours, i began to wish that everyone simply told the truth. and as that thought began to manifest itself deeper, it was instantly cut off by the realization that the world would fall apart if the truth was ever told.

children would be moved to tears by the truth that there never was a santa claus, relationships founded upon lies would shatter, the line between criminals and politicians would be severely blurred. sheer panic would ensue upon revealing the truth of what the government has known all along about nuclear warfare, aliens, and september 11th. it would save the lives of many, but claim the lives of most.

(This was written on 4/22/09.)

unpublished, unedited. (03)

i feel very small when i venture out. i forget that there is a world outside of my window. at times i forget that anyone can even see me it all, so i sometimes think out loud and watch people as though they can't see me.

i've been awfully impatient since i haven't heard from my employer, if i can call them that. i never feel that it is official that i'm employed until i'm walking to my car after the first day. and then, once i get my paycheck.

(This was written on 10/29/08.)

unpublished, unedited. (02)

i'm discouraged by the way my mind deciphers fear. my mind is so conscious of dangers and disappointments. it will not let me pretend that the sinking feeling in my stomach does not exist. in the past week i've felt so many emotional extremes of happiness and sadness that i'm now almost entirely conscious of every thought i have. my mind doesn't wander very far, because i find it even when




(This was written on 7/16/08.)

unpublished, unedited. (01)

i suppose i suddenly imagined my struggles as a sea. while barely being able to stay afloat the water, i found fear in not knowing how soon i would tire from the waves moving me away from what i was pursuing. what could prevent me from drowning in such a beautiful thing? in the midst of fighting to survive, the rules had suddenly changed. just as i was barely able to tread water any longer, i was suddenly asked to climb the sea.

-- an impossible thought. i would have to teach my mind to adjust to an idea that seems purely unthinkable. i'm being asked to survive, and i don't know how.

(This was written on 7/1/08.)

c’est la vie.

i want to talk about realistic writing expectations, and how i don’t have any. i bite off more than i can chew, or adversely find underwhelming writing tasks to pursue. i edit, re-edit, and edit again just to be able to type a paragraph now, and by the time i'm ready to publish, i feel drained. i need to come back down to earth.

which leads me to a very strange announcement: i decided i’m writing a book. i know that doesn’t seem to add up at all, does it? but i really am writing a book, and i am not going to get excited about it. i’m actually giddy about it, to be honest. but if i get excited, i’ll love it too much, and the love will rush it and smother it to death. i need to work slowly. i need to put all of my thoughts back together again. i have to relive so much of my life to write these pages. i cannot hold myself to expectations or deadlines. if this takes me years to write, then c’est la vie. it will simply be done whenever i finish it.

so maybe i shouldn’t call it a book? maybe i should call it a creative writing project. whatever it should be called, it’s happening. and it isn’t being typed either! it’s already begun in notebooks that are scattered around my room (which may prove to be a fatal mistake later). but it’s better to write on paper for now at least, because when i type, it’s too tempting to hit the backspace.

so what is the book about?

love.

sometimes i still need you.

i’ve been trying to write, but nothing will come out.

my fingers touch the keys, and usually form no more than two sentences before i stop again in attempt to recollect my thoughts. my words have failed me at even the most simple of writing tasks. even now, i’ve been staring at a blog comment window, trying to type a response to a friend and my fingers won’t move. i don’t usually realize that i’ve stopped writing; that my mind has gone vacant at all until i suddenly come back down to earth, and realize that all i had been doing over the past 5 minutes was pick the grey nail polish from my fingernails.

i write a paragraph and stop cold. i’ve been staring at the cursor blinking for 4 minutes. how is it that i’ve got so much to say, and nothing at all? i recently started thinking about how easy it was to write when i was in love. i had so many thoughts then. i would hate to find that i can’t write while out of love, but i know it really just isn’t the same. before i fell in love, i could write so easily. i don’t understand why it can’t be that way again. i told someone that i’ve felt so happy and liberated since i’ve moved to Portland, but still feel a lingering sadness from losing him that doesn’t seem to be going away. she told me that maybe this will be my new normal. maybe i need to accept that i’ll always be somewhat wounded now, and that the things that happened to me will still have an affect on my life, even if it is only in the smallest of ways. but i wish it wouldn’t have taken away my writing, and my ability to focus when i read. i can read chapters of a book now, and not be able to tell you what i had just read if you had asked me.

i know moving was right. i know this is where i want to be. i know that i’m home now. but deep down, i know why this is happening. i know why this day has turned out this way. it was because the first thing i thought of when i opened my eyes this morning was you.

 

“she closes her eyes in ecstasy, but he’s tattooed his face across her eyelids.”

Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to

Dear Aunt Sabrina,

I think you’d be confused as to why I chose to write you, but you have to know that I’ve been lucky enough not to lose anyone very close to me so far, and since you and I never met it seems fitting. This is one letter I wish I could get a reply from. I wish you could tell me what my dad was like before you died. I wonder what all of them were like. I wonder if they were any different at all, because I know problems existed far before you were gone. I wonder if you were the sunshine in the room. I wonder if you were anything like my sister and I. When I was a little girl I remember asking who you were when I saw your picture. My dad told me that you were his sister, but that you were in heaven now. No one really ever spoke of you, and they don’t even now. I know nothing about you besides how you died. I grew curious and searched for your name on the internet, and what saddened (and scared) me was that all that came up was the date of your death, and your social security number.

Even if they don’t speak of you, the lack of your presence can still be felt. I don’t know if they realize it, but every year at the time of your death they’re always unhappy. Maybe it’s an unspoken understanding between them, but I can’t help but to think that maybe they just feel safer in their denial. If you had been my sister you would have been in my thoughts every day. I can’t believe I’ve been on this earth just a few years longer than you have, now. When I think of you, you remind me of how fragile life is, and I still wonder what it would’ve been like if you were still here. I think my dad does too.

Goodnight, Sabrina.

Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend

(I know, I've skipped a few days. I've decided to write whichever letter feels most fitting to write about at the moment. I'll get back to the others when the timing is right. But tonight this letter is for him. I thought about writing this letter for months. I've written the pages over and over in my head. I was always so hesitant to write it all out; I've had so much to say. I've edited, shortened, and rewritten completely. This is the first letter that has felt right.)





To My Ex-Lover,

I think of you less and less every day. Everything you made me feel is past tense now. Nearly three years, and the only thing you managed to teach me is that love fails. I don't crave your company any longer. I loved who you were, but who you are now is something I would never desire. What ended us was your denial, and what began your relationship with her was lies. I don't expect you to ever find your way back to the person you were. Enjoy.

Sincerely,
Bunny.

Day 2 — Your Crush

Dear Crush:

I would get butterflies when you texted me, and stammer over my words when you'd call. I hope you never noticed, but I secretly wish you did. I'm sorry that I'm talking in past tense, but I think you know what that means. My butterflies are flying away. But I'm not sad at all. I get the idea that there will be more like you that start strong and quickly fade, but I find that exciting.

I love the movie nights, the coffee dates, the flirtatious conversations, the hugs that last longer each time, and feeling giddy when my phone lights up and it's you. You don't need to be the love of my life. You don't need to last forever. I'm not afraid of where this goes because a crush isn't capable of breaking my heart. I just like this feeling because it makes me feel alive.

But to anyone who may have a crush on me now (or those future boys I've yet to meet), I will say this: any guy I know would tell you in a heartbeat that before you realize it, you'll be falling for me.

So if you're ready for late night conversations and spontaneous beach trips, maybe you should take a chance. I'm an amazing girl. You just have to get to know me.

Day 1 — Your Best Friend

I told myself I'd start this project on July 1st, but July has somehow swept me away in its first 5 days.

I'm both excited and terrified to do this project. I feel as though it'll be much like ripping off bandaids and picking scabs. (Gross, I'm sorry.) I'm torn between ideas of how healing is supposed to work now. I'm not sure if it's simply time that heals all wounds, or if it's attempting anything that promises incite closure, or if venting and expressing your emotions to people you trust somehow helps nurse your thoughts back to health.

Regardless, I'll try my best to write one letter every day, and I'll try my best to write the letter assigned to that specific day, but I can't promise. Some people who have taken on this project have written such lighthearted letters (which I adore and envy), and although I'm sure some of mine might be too, some of the topics are such heavy thoughts to bear. Regardless, I know I will finish this project. So here it comes.


Day 1 — Your Best Friend

Dear Best Friend,

I've chosen to write this letter in a manner that keeps you anonymous. That's because I've chosen to write to every best friend: The ones that exist now, the ones that only existed then. The ones I speak to once a day, and the ones I speak to once a month. This is for you. I want to tell you that I wouldn't have made it here without you. The times you drove me around the city until I could finally bring myself to stop crying, the times you came over at 2 a.m. just to listen to music in my room, the times you've answered my phone calls and spoke to me for hours whether I was laughing or crying. Sometimes I feel that you've never stopped loving me unconditionally. It's almost surreal.

We dream, we swim, we laugh, we sing, we cry, we dance. We stay awake to see sunrises, we climb water towers, we complete each other's sentences, we go on road trips, fishing trips, camping trips, we stay in bed all day. I feel like I belong in the world when you're with me. You look at me and I know you understand me whether or not I've spoken any words at all.

I want to apologize if I've ever hurt you. I want to apologize to you for sometimes not answering my phone, and I want to apologize to you for sometimes answering my phone at all; this has been my hardest year, and I know I haven't always made for the happiest conversation, or the best company. I know all you've ever done is try to take care of me. I promise my distance is only ever an attempt at burdening you less.

Please never doubt what you mean to me. You've made my life so much easier to bear. Some days you were all that brought me out of bed in the morning. Some nights you were the only reason I could fall asleep. Even if it didn't last, I still think of our memories fondly.

Thank you for being here now, and being here then.

A New Project.

I could explain all the reasons I haven't written, but I'm not sure any of those thoughts are worth describing now. I've simply felt a loss of inspiration, or maybe even a fear of what inspiration I have left.

I recently considered starting a new blog. A quirky and bluntly honest viewpoint of being recently single and newly 21, (which has so far led to many adventures) and I actually completed an entire first post, saved it in a word document, and woke up to find that the file format could no longer be re-opened. After losing what I had spent hours writing, I thought it might have been a sign. I gave up, wondering if maybe the time for it just wasn't right.

I'm searching for anything to make me feel alive now. Some nights I've felt alive dancing to the rhythm of music, surrounded by strangers. Other nights I feel alive when I'm alone with my ipod and a glass of wine.

After my breakup this year I want nothing else but to have my life back. I want my heart back, my head back, my dreams back. None of these things have been mine. They've belonged only to him, and I'll do anything to escape that now. I was thinking while in the shower earlier (where I truly do most of my thinking) and I wanted to write a goodbye letter to him. One that I'd never intend for him to read. I even started writing it in my head. It hasn't yet made it through to my fingers meeting my keyboard, but I came across the tumblr of a writer and photographer I adore who recently started participating in a 30 day project, and it seemed to call to me.


So in addition to my Project 365, for 30 days coming soon, I'll be writing a letter to these people.


Day 1 — Your Best Friend
Day 2 — Your Crush
Day 3 — Your parents
Day 4 — Your sibling (or closest relative)
Day 5 — Your dreams
Day 6 — A stranger
Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush
Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend
Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet
Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to
Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to
Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain
Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you
Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from
Day 15 — The person you miss the most
Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country
Day 17 — Someone from your childhood
Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be
Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad
Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest
Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression
Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to
Day 23 — The last person you kissed
Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory
Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times
Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to
Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day
Day 28 — Someone that changed your life
Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to
Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror

I hope this new project will serve as a healthy place to vent, but what I'm really hoping I'll have after these 30 days is my inspiration back. Maybe this will consolidate my dreams, my heart, and my head. I want to write again. I need this.

Past and Present Tense.

I'm unsure I can really describe where I've been since my last post here.

I've found darkness that I thought was incapable of existing. There have been days where my mind has quit and left my body wandering on vacantly. The emptiness I feel in my stomach mimics hunger, so eating seemed futile. I survive without food for days that way. I've cried while driving, sleeping, showering, and exercising. I fall in and out of love and hate within the same hour. I woke up praying for God to make my body die the way my mind already has, to allow me to perish fully, wholly.

I've looked out between the blur of tears in my eyes with a smile on my face, feeling hope and excitement that there must be better days for me this year. I smile at attractive strangers with a hopeful heartbeat, thinking maybe they could be the one who will make me believe in love again. Then I feel bitter and scared, like I should take the example my father and ex-lover have given me as a sign that love isn't real. I felt love though, I did. Oh, love is so real. I feel beautiful when I realize my heart is capable of unconditional love. I felt disgust when I found my heart was capable of unconditional love.

It has been 62 days; Every day has begun and ended with uncertainty. We have 60 more unpredictable days left of living together.

I can't imagine us looking at all of our belongings separately packed in boxes. I can't imagine the last words we'll say to each other in the apartment. I can't picture leaving our home and driving away in opposite directions. I've wished that day is tomorrow. I wish that day would never come.

But I want it to so fucking bad.



Letter to myself:

(Keep your chin up, girl. You'll look back on this months from now and be living amongst so much beauty. You don't deserve to feel this, but it won't last long. There are so many people who love you. Look forward to your birthday, June will make this all worth while. Love yourself even if he can't. Smile even when it hurts. This will all soon be memories, and you'll be so strong when that day comes and you've realized you've made it. After all, “It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we are free to do anything.” )