melancholy

so i know about melancholy. have passed entire winters watching the days darken and wishing i had somewhere i wanted to go. i remember that rainy june. weeks with no light and it was like summer never came here. all this waiting. all this searching. all this wondering/wandering i did for you.

i don't know why the change of heart. i mean, bad shit is all around. but something about the new year coming. something about getting through. all those years, all that therapy and acupuncture and meditation shit. it really did something. and now, and with resolve, i have this hope that sneaks in even on the coldest days. even when i am listening to the smiths and imagining myself on a floor littered with beer cans and poetry slams. it doesn't happen.

i am no longer there.

so instead i picture my future. scan classes i might want to take (knitting, crotchet, baking, writing, yoga, spanish). travels i might take. imagine the possibility of returning that that city i loved to hate to live in. picture two more l.a. summers. making peace with the girl that used to live inside those streets.

and it's like anything is possible again. and it's like i can do any thing again. and it's the most amazing thing. him.

so this is christmas....

maybe you don't know about me and christmas. i don't even know why i love this time of year so. especially now. after all these years. after all those mornings sitting with a family that hated me. it was a relief to not have to take that drive. to not have to fake those smiles. to not have to bite my tongue in two.

and the times were nice. like before. sisters holding stockings. caroling. reading the old christmas stories, eating the old christmas foods, singing those old revels songs. pavarroti.

the old familiar. and i missed ivan and those christmas eve's we used to spend on helmsman road. and i missed sharing table top banter with the one i love most (as he bantered at home), though i saw him christmas day.

it's all different now. warm light, arms that hold me just right, and a star in the sky named after me.

family plan

so right now i have the family plan on my phone covering me, my boyfriend, and my ex husband. i share custody of our chihuahua. my ex husband feels like a cousin. and i don't think he will ever go away. it's weird how okay it is. it's weird how good it is to still know him. to have that sad space gone.

christmas is coming.

it's so fucked this year. i was traveling. ivan died. my heart stopped a million times these past two weeks. i pulled my back out kicking the ground so hard when i rode my bike. just trying to get it out of me. just trying to be okay. it's hard to know what that even means.

because mostly i know i am.

and this is just one of those things i have to go through.

and saying good bye is hard. and the light can hurt your eyes.

but all i've got is time. and this dream. and this belief that i can be happy.

rock

i am trying to be your rock.
i am trying to not go away.
i am trying to believe in the impossible things.
i am trying to mean it when i listen to that depeche mode song.

but i am not sure if i do.
i am not sure if i can take it.
i am not sure i know how to not break when my heart is broken.
i am not sure i know how to not run when the walls are crashing down.

and the walls are crashing down.
and you took something from me when you said those words.
and i believed and i believed but i don't know how to now.

after that.

after this.

and my heart has been broken before.
i have lived through deaths and i have lost everything.
i have passed a winter alone in the back of a house broken right in two while around me life went on. years passed. my body failed. and i was scared. fuck.
i was scared.

but i did it and i will do it again.

and maybe i don't need you.
and maybe i don't want you.
but maybe it was just nice to think that for once, and this time.
it was going to be that way.
and i would have you.

want it

i don't even know if i want it anymore.

all i know is that i am tired. and there never seems to be enough time.
and i try not to but i feel it all. all the time.

i hate it when you say those things. i hate it when you close that door.

when i close my eyes i see ivan smiling at me and it's like he is right here
and he's telling me its all okay.

but here's the thing. he's not here.

and it's not okay.

and maybe he has found peace there. but what about me, here. where is my peace?

or maybe i am not even trying. maybe i don't even care. maybe i don't want anything i had before. maybe my toes are cold and the sky is dark and i can't find the light no matter what i pray/say/take. and maybe i don't believe in anyone. in anything. maybe everything i say is just my pretend way. maybe i wish i could fly away.

maybe you broke my heart.
maybe you broke my spine.
maybe you took everything i wanted.
away.

friends and lovers

make amends with your past.
say your good byes now.
eat a cookie for breakfast. eat two.
make snow angels.
wear warm socks.
let him love you even when your feet
can't touch the ground.

ivan.

i do not have christmas cheer.
i do not believe you. any of you.
i do not sleep well.
i do not like the way it feels when my stomach is full.
or empty.
or when i wake up and it is still early.

i do not have anyone to replace you.
i do not have anyone to love like i loved you.
i do not want anyone else.
i only want you.

Lied

I wrote on Facebook that I was coming back into the light.

But I lied.

Really I feel gross and sad and paranoid and angry and so restless I don't know how be in this state that I am in.

Light

last night a drunk dial woke me in the middle of the night and i found myself crying before i even knew what was happening. i spent the better part of the early morning laying in bed wondering if this is how its gonna be again. how do you get it back? that safety, that peace, i worked so long and hard for. sometimes just getting out of bed in the morning feels like the hardest thing in the world to do. i feel bad. like physically bad. my stomach hurts. i can't sit still. it's like i can't think of one place, one person, one thing that could make me feel okay. so instead my own skin feels like it is suffocating me. my heart races. i lose my voice. my sweater feels like it is strangling me.

so breath deep. send your calm to me. remind me again how it is that i can be.

how time will tell.

how things get better when you just remember to hold on and let go.

or why don't you come here now.
and hold me.

Memorial

So here we are again. We lost another friend. Chip, Melinda, and now Ivan. It breaks my heart. The Zimmerman's feel like a part of my own family. Our moms are best friends, Ivan was my first love, Esther, Sam, all of you....
It's hard sometimes to remember that when we met we were all just kids. Those years of the Soul Brothas, the Sisters, The Get along Gang when Chip and Melinda were both alive and dating and Kira had dreads. Nights passed in the shed and Matty T's basement. Those were some of the most carefree days of my life. When I started thinking about what I could say about Ivan here today, what memories I could share, it was overwhelming. Where to start? After so many years Ivan feels like a part of me. I could talk about how Ivan used to save the purple skittles for me, how he called me chief, about the time my dad had him and Matt move a gigantic log across our driveway the day after prom and we had all been up all night. There was my sweet 16 birthday at the cabin where the girls all drank Zima out of sprite cans and the boys played with the fire. Going to Friendly's for loaded fried and a bottomless pot of coffee and we would smoke cigarettes and talk til the waitress kicked us out. Or when Ivan got a new pager and wouldn't give me the number until I PROMISED to stop paging him 9-1-1- all the time.
Ivan had the best laugh.
Ivan told the best stories.
Ivan had the bluest eyes.
I am sure everyone here remembers the way Ivan told his stories. The way his smile and his laugh would get inside you. The way it felt to be by his side.
Ivan was the kind of friend that could see into people. He had the ability to offer comfort and love to the people in life that in the end he was not able to give to himself. Ivan was there for me through every major milestone in my life reminding me of who I was and where I came from. I am who I am today because of what Ivan gave me all those years.
When Ivan and I reconnected recently I couldn't believe how little had changed between us. He was still the same old Ivan joking about the Lisa Loeb I used to sing at him and the nights I stumbled across the hall without my glasses on knocking into things. But he also had a weariness and a wisdom like he had lived a lot in the 2 years since we had spoken. And I believed that we would always have each other to get through the hard times. I hope Ivan knew how much better my life was with him in it. I hope he knew how deeply I loved him. I feel so alone now that is he gone but I hope that he has found the peace that had been so elusive for him in his lifetime. It breaks my heart to say good bye to another friend, to say good bye to Ivan, and I will forever love and miss him.

hardest

mornings are the hardest for me.
i sleep badly to begin with. sometimes i wake up screaming/moaning/crying.
i dream things like i am running in a room because ivan is trying to kill himself.
i wake up and i know that i was too late. all the running in that world can't take
the gun out of his hand that night. and i am sad all over again.
like i just got the phone call.
when e. said nothing.
and i just said "no, not ivan, not ivan" over and over again.
and i knew it was him.
because she said nothing again and again.

the ones we lost along the way.

Rest in peace Ivan, Chip and Melinda.

I miss you so much and Ivan I will always love you best.

i'll never forget where you're at

i can't breath.
i wake up angry.
and i hate the game.

stupid shit

take those photos down. turn back the clock.
no i do not want to be a member of the Ivan Memorial Group.
i want to be a part of his life.

and why you gotta do me like that.

and all the lies.

and all the times.

and this has been the longest week.

do you remember last week? remember how torn up i was about a
divorce. remember how that
seemed like the darkest, deepest thing.

it seems laughable to me now. like i could give a shit what my work thinks.
like i give a shit what his family says if i see them on some cape cod street.
like any of it matters. yeah it is hard. yeah it was sad. but it was a choice.
it was a sad day to get to a better future.

this other stuff. this other story. its harder to find the happy ending in here.
it's harder to find the reason why.

and i feel so alone. because ivan was my thing. because ivan had loved me all along. so long. because ivan knew the worst me and he loved me anyway and he called me anyway and he needed me anyway. and i can't get those years back with someone else. and i don't know if anyone will ever know me that way. love me that strong. give me such peace.

and i need someone to believe in. someone who tells me the truth. i need someone to tell me the truth. something else. something real. someone who does the things they say. who is the person they claim to be. who tells the things they promised they would say.

sometimes i can't keep myself from crying.
sometimes i feel so numb i don't feel anything at all.
sometimes i am not sure any of this is even real. i am not even sure if i am.

and i don't want to go away. i don't want to fall into that hole. i don't want to lose my voice again. i don't want to lose myself again. i don't want to walk off that cliff. the one over there. that place where i once shimmied my nights away. that one that won't stop calling my name.

face

i hate it when you spit in my face like that.

dreams

i can't really sleep these days. don't really want to eat. my stomach hurts when i do. i wake up in the night shaking. crying. this feeling that makes me feel like i could go crazy. like i am trapped in a cage and i can't see between the bars. like i am being suffocated by a plastic bag and then i remember why i feel that way and i remember he is gone and it feels like catching a medicine ball with your stomach every fuckin time again and again and it takes my breath away in the most unromantic way.

i had a dream last night that i was hugging sam and we were crying. and then all of the sudden ivan had his arms around us both and he was spinning us around in circles and smiling this big smile and i could see his eyes and he leaned forward and he kissed me and his arms felt so warm and i swear to god it was like he was right there with me. the dog stirred. something happened. i woke up shaking and he was dead again and there is nothing left to break anymore.

sometimes i feel like smashing every face and place and thing i have ever seen and been. sometimes i just want to lay on the floor.

sometimes i look forward and i don't see anything in front of me. sometimes i feel like i don't care what happens next or who is there or how far i fall. i just don't care. and i don't want to get drunk or to run away. i don't want to forget him. i don't want to do anything. i just need to be sad right now.

because.
i am sad right now.
and i can't pretend that away.

ivan called me chief and he always saved the purple skittles for me.

what i wouldn't give to get you back

more

i could have done more.
called back quicker. listened harder.
i could have known. i should have. damn it i was
the one. i was the person talking to him. i was the
one getting the text messages at night. that time he had
his friends leave early so i could talk but i was too tired
and it was so late. and i said tomorrow tomorrow and i thought
we had a tomorrow. and i left for three weeks and maybe that
was the time. that was when he decided. and so this is what
he meant when he said he was glad i was safe. and this is what he
meant when he said he would always love me. he said he would give
anything to go back to those times. easy days. a home.
and he gave that away. and he took that away. and he left anyway.
and why the fuck.
and its not fair.
and i am so mad.
and i want my old cell phone back. and i want those text messages. and i
want the pictures of his dog in the wig.
and mygod.
and why him.
and take it back.
and was he scared. and did he hurt. and was it worth it. and did he mean
it. and was he scared. and all that hurt. and why couldn't i do it better.
and why couldn't i take it away.
and you can't save anyone but yourself.
but shits not supposed to go down like that. and fuck it hurts when shit goes
down like that. and i loved him.
and he loved me.
and he left anyway.
and so far.
and what i wouldn't give for one last hug. for one last moment. for one last chance
to show him the love that is out here, and everywhere, and for him.

ivan

did i ever tell you about my first love? ivan? did i ever tell you about our love affair. about the years i spent fighting, loving, leaving him? how he broke my heart and said i broke his. how he punched holes in the walls when i walked out the door. the morning i woke up on e's floor to find a love letter from him duct taped to my shirt. ivan was a sweet, funny, kind, beautiful person. i spent two years devoted mostly to him. right through college we would pass winter break drinking in a friends basement, sneaking into corners, remembering that time. when chip died i slept in ivan's bed for three straight nights. we listened to bob marley, we poured through photo albums, we pressed our bodies together. we didn't speak. we didn't cry.years passed. we stayed in touch. late night text messages, a story about a night gone. letters from rehab. phone calls full of help-me's and lonelies when i called off my wedding or the months i spent recovering from my accident in the back of my parents house. the last time i saw ivan he was far away and i was rebuilding myself again. i bought him dinners on main street. i let him lay his head on my lap and sleep while i watched tv. i hardly recognized him. he was so fragile. i did my best. i tried to save him. i still follow his ghost through our past. and mostly i just miss our times. sometimes all my love isn't even enough. sometimes giving everything i have still can't fill someone. sometimes there is nothing i can do.

doesn't that just break your heart?


ivan told the best stories.
ivan had the best laugh.
ivan had the bluest eyes.

i had no idea when i sent him that text yesterday that he didn't write back because he was dead. i had no idea that the last thing we would ever talk about was thanksgiving shit like any of that matters.

come back home

let the sun dance on your shoulders.
listen to the silence. hear the pulse of before. hear the nothing.
sleep late. twist. and. shout.
eat nutty bars. doritos. pringles. all the kinds. lick your fingers.
don't floss.
you never do anyway.
wear shoes without laces.
call your underwear panties and don't laugh when you do.
hold his hand.
play with his thumb.
change the words and shout them loud.
gouge away.
fuck this day.
make it like it was that other time.
that other life.
that other monday when a best friend and an inside joke would make it all go away.

and we'll all float on okay.

what are you supposed to do the night before you get divorced? eat a big dinner? go dancing? throw things? forget things? or are you supposed to remember?

how about watch your wedding video. the one you never actually saw. or stay up all night drinking that wine you bought on your honeymoon but never actually opened. if your sister was around maybe you would do that.

do you go to a bar alone? tell a stranger all your secrets? find a bartender to sing your sorrows to? do you take a bath and eat curry? do you watch grey's anatomy and cry at someone else's story? do you listen to tori amos and that old hole album you still love?

do you change the date. do you take it back. do you sit alone or do you find your friends. could you fuck up even this or is whatever you do okay.

is it ever okay.

will you ever forgive yourself your trespasses.

will you ever stop feeling like an ass hole because you fucked up in front of everyone.

do you make a list of all the things you hate about yourself?

how about the things you hate about him?

or the things you hate about that car that cut you off when you were commuting in the rain?

do you have to try? do you ever stop crying? do you want to talk to anyone?

does it even matter.

does any of it even matter.

was any of it even real. do you know anything. can you say it better. could it be that this is all it ever is.

cause shit its lonely the night before your divorce. and shit is rough when you can only think of one place you'd like to be and it's the one place you can't be and there is no one that you want to talk to but you don't want to be alone but you don't want to see anybody but you can't stand the sight of yourself and where are you when i need you and how could you think i don't need you today and fuck you and fuck this and fuck the things you haven't even had the time to say.

In one more day

the fog will lift. it will be over. nothing left to wait on pins and needles for.
and today is the warmest, sun-shiniest day. and john in my office made the best coffee this morning. and i see my cardiologist at 11. he'll tell me that my heart is not broken, only a little quick. and i knew that already didn't i?

Crown of Love

Friday is D Day.

As in Divorce Day. As in finito. As in forever. As in no-more. So it means that I am taking things back. Things like my name. The promise of "til death do us part".

Nothing's changing. Nothing will be different. But the floors are caving in. And it feels like being punched in the stomach over and over with something like a hot iron or the lead pipe in Clue.

And Saturday won't be any different than last Tuesday.

But today, tomorrow. I am watching the city pulse and time is standing still.

And yesterday there was nothing I wanted more than to run-a-way. Anything to make-it-go-away. Fingers felt like claws and I couldn't breath in that box you put me in. And I didn't believe in one thing that one person had ever said to me. And I cursed that day in the ICU when I promised to keep on with the breathing. And I cursed the things that were inside me. And I searched and I prayed and I paced for a place to go. Something to erase me. And he was there and he didn't let me run too far. And I couldn't think of one place to go.

So I laid in his arms.

So I took a day.

We drove to the Cape. We ate pizza and sat at the beach and we talked things through. Things that Josh and I could never do. I saw his childhood room and tried to find myself in the Weezer posters and the Bruins faces, in the spider webs and the childhood pictures of a boy I never knew.

I took the long way home. Listened to a Valentine's CD I made years ago. I drove by the church, the house Josh and I rented with our friends, his parents house. And I never have to take it or keep my chin up or bite my tongue when I don't want to again. I never have to be there again. MyGod. The weight. The sadness. The freedom of driving down that familiar road and knowing I am leaving the things I need to leave but I am not running away. I know how to get home. I know now what that means. How that feels. Where he lies.

I got to Arlington late. The house felt empty. His luggage and clothes strewn around the spare room. And I went to sleep. Moonlight and a cup of tea.

what i know

there are some things that you can't fuck or drink or fake away.

petty

something about the breaking in breaking up makes me feel petty. makes me feel owed. makes me forget that i did those things because i wanted to then. i can't take it back now. i can't collect back rent from those days in providence. i can't take back the futon i gave him even if he puts it in storage so he can buy a bed. it's not about being fair. shit's not fair or unfair. right or unright. it just is. and i am not petty. say what you say. and i feel petty. i am not always this way.

and i miss things like grocery shopping together. like roasting chestnuts and buying the mull spices for cider we would never even make. and i miss the familiarity of those holidays. and i wouldn't go back if i could. and i wouldn't take it back if you made me. and i don't want that life again.

but it is christmas time. and it is gray. and the sky reminds me of those hardest days.

sleeping on my side. a pillow holding my thighs from the drain. the pulse of the hematoma so strong it kept me flat in bed.

and it is christmas time. and try as i might i can't pretend things like santa claus and holy children anymore. and it all seems so rushed.

and i wanted an advent calendar and a wreath for my door and instead i have a divorce proceeding and a list of chores.

been around the world and i, i....

so in these days.
the "anniversary" of my accident has come and gone. i have eaten turkey and pumpkin pie and chocolate croissants and scallion pancakes and so much jamon you wouldn't even believe it. i have slept in over-sized hotel beds in southern spain, taken the terrifying elevator up the eiffel tower, driven through olive fields following spanish signs i could not read and peed on the side of the high way in ireland.

it's not like going away takes it away. but the distance. felt good. and the perspective. got wider. and the freedom of no one knowing me on the street. of not even having to listen to the chatter because it doesn't speak my language.

and so we passed the days eating, and sitting, and holding hands, and drinking wine.

here, at home, the landlord still asks for josh and the checkbook still needs to be balanced and the floor needs to be vacuumed and the air is cold but christmas is right around the corner and i saw the pixies last night and i ate the most delicious piece of chocolate pecan pie.

and so.

message in a box

i came back.

bon voyage

i am off. i will not have my computer in europe.

i will return fatter and happier.

you can be sure.

coffee & dreams

i am turning over a new leaf.

getting away but i am not leaving it behind.

postcards. cafes. coffees. towers. the kinds with lights.

cheeses and jamon. i am gonna eat and i'm gonna love and i am gonna do it to it like it's never been done.

and it will be just very.

and it will feel just right.

and i won't have to pretend those things i have to pretend here to make you okay with the idea that i am divorcing and leaving and loving and not so broken that i am not okay. i won't have to check with you about whether it's okay to not be sad anymore. i won't have to down play my happy because it makes you question your boyfriend or your husband or the things you've learned to turn away.

because the truth is that while this is all hard as shit. while this is a shit show some days that even i don't care to watch. for the most part. and deep down. i have left the comfort of a dear darling friend for a life full of adventure. for a happiness that comes from being okay with me. for the freedom to fail and hard and as high as i want to. for the companionship of a love that tells me to listen better and tell the truth and to take a time out when my talk gets crazy.

this is hard.

but sometimes the right thing is a hard thing to do.

and i am tired to trying to be only as happy as you see fit.
i am tired of having to live my life quietly so as to not upset you.

so hear me. screaming. watch me. running. feel the way it feels to be the first one in your world to tell the truth.

so
tag.
you're
it.

and this doesn't mean i won't still love you.

journeys

i didn't sleep well. i had bad dreams. weird ones. woke up unimpressed. undecided. uninterested in seeing anything. doing anything. knowing you. they were the piss off kind. all the things. boys kissing girls they shouldn't. people telling lies. belly aches. stupid so cal places. when i dream i am back in la its like i am dreaming about dying. that city and it's sunshine.

i leave for paris today at six. i can't muster up the things.

so maybe i'll have a sweet plane-meal. take an ativan. cause that's how i roll in the sky. i'll watch some romantic comedy and cry. think about how much i hate. all the things.

fuck. maybe a shower will help.

maybe i just need some coffee. or to smash the mouths. or to hold their ears to the fire.

i can't wait to divorce that family of faces that spent 5 years slandering me. i can't wait to stop saying 'i don't care what they say'. because i care. of course i care.

and this gray day has nothing nice for me to say today.

Not Sullen

Not Scared. Not Saved.
Not Escaping. Not Succumbing.

A Little Sexy.
A Little Learned.

Getting Closer.

Moving.

Avocado Smooth.

Cold As Your Camera Lens.

But Getting Closer.

Truncate Me.

Call Me Morning.

Touch My Failures and Feel Your Face In My Tides.

eff you.

of course it was coming. i have spent five and a half years trying to not listen to the talk they talk. that family. those christians. the kind that make you understand all those wars.

so judge me.

tell the story your way.

but the truth is you raised a son who hates you so much that 6.5 months later and he hasn't even told you he's filed papers to get a divorce. you never called. you never asked. you didn't know about the pregnancy, the miscarriage, or the years and tears that you took away.

what i feel for you is about as close as i have ever come to hate. the way you treat him. what you call love.

so call it my fault. create affairs or complications.

when the truth is a distant stranger told you of your sons demise based on facebook posts and internet rumors. and that is all you have. because this is what you've done.

doubt

i wanted you to be silent.
too.

notarized me

so today was the day. really yesterday was. and before that last friday. but every time i tried to get those papers back he was sick or was walking out the door or he forgot. when i met him at his work today he had them finally, all filled out. in pencil. really? did he really think that you could use pencil on a legal document? did he really think that could save this thing? because 6 months ago he wouldn't even consider therapy. six months ago he told me he didn't get involved on an emotional level. but we got what we needed notarized and i am sitting here waiting for him to bring his part to me. thursday i will file those papers at the courthouse. the reality of it feels like a brick falling on my chest. just the fact of the matter. it's just so unfamiliar to see him in such a formal setting. to exchange addresses and incomes and talk about the weather. to go from sharing a life to not even sharing a zip code. the guilt i feel when he walks out the door and i am relieved as i lock the deadbolt. and six months is long enough. lets purge. lets breath. lets let this thing go down....

someone asked me recently what they should do with all the pictures they have of my wedding. i don't know if i said anything but what i meant to say was keep them. look at them. it still happened. this doesn't change that day. i don't want to pretend this never was. i want to remember every little thing. to learn from those mistakes. to grow from that experience. so i still have my pictures. i still look at them. i still had a good time in mexico and nantucket and that time we drove to vermont and ended up in montreal. i am not asking anyone to take those things away.

it's just the ending that changed. it's just that there is an ending. it's just the ways that dependence can disguise itself as love. it's just that i realized i need something more. it's just that i remembered who i was who i meant to be. it's just that i am not willing to let fear (of falling in love with someone as strong as me, of doing it alone, of heart conditions and my stupid leg that doesn't always work) keep me from living my best life. from experiencing my best love. from becoming my best me.

on monday i leave on a plane to paris. the papers will be filed. a new chapter will begin. one that i hope leads to sequels and prequels and the kind of climaxes that are usually saved for late night television movies.

take me inside.

been waiting all my life. holding my breath. keep a vigil into the night. all that fear. all that forevering. all those promises i knew i could never keep. some days i wondered if i was even capable of that kind of love. the kind of loneliness that comes from a life of surviving. believing in everything is kinda the same as believing in nothing. and i believed in this strongly. i wouldn't say i gave up, it was more of a giving in. it's like i walked so far i didn't even realize where i had been. cold soft sounds of falling. the falling in. i am falling in.

for this.

waitingtakesthelifeoutofme.com

how long can you hold your breath? how still can you sit? how many weeks can you wait?

the days pass so slow. hood up. face down. counting ring tones and tv shows and assigning tasks to pass the time. bake some cookies, clean the stove, do some laundry, make lists. places you will go. places you will eat. recipes to cook. presents to buy. things to-do. people to-be. moments to-look-forward-to.

you think you know it all. you think you know what love is. until it happens. and you realize, you never really knew. and its not until the breaking that you realize what all these months you have been making. and its not until you tell all the truths that you know what you have done and what it has become. and you said you wanted to be a little destroyed but that was before you knew what destroying really felt like. but you wouldn't take it back because you sit there watching the walls cave in and all you can say is don't go, don't go, there is nothing left but please. don't. go. and that is when you know that you never knew what love was before. and that is when you know that you never knew how to tell the truth before. and that is when you know that they can bury you with the house. bury you with those eyes. bury you where you lie. because you are not going to go without him. because there is nowhere left to go. because where would you go? because he was your home. and you couldn't know. until you know.

so much depends on the u and i of it. so much depends on just making it through to another day.

work

love takes work. it takes forgiveness. the honesty to say, it's both of our fault. i was there too. i should have. i could have. if only i had done it different maybe you would not have... and you can't go back. and you can apologize but you can't take those things away. you can only move forward. you can only know what you know. and if you are in love there is no question. there is no where else to go.

i will spend the rest of my life forgetting you

last night i sat in the bath til the water got cold and my fingers shriveled like raisins. i listened to the Saddest Songs. i cried until my face was wet and my throat felt dry.

it's not like these things go away.

it's not like you forget.

it's just the way it's going to be. and that gets easier. doesn't it?

and so. it's monday morning. the sun is shining. my desk at work is exactly the way i left it. the clients still call. the grants still need to be written. i am meeting friends in harvard square. will buy a wallet for him. some leggings for me. at 5:30 i have acupuncture. for lunch i will eat almonds. an apple. stupid everyday things.

and it reminds me. and it remembers me.

and some times everything is the same and that is okay.

disintegration

i get it. i hear you.

i know.

you hate me. you tell me all the time. in all the ways.

and frankly i can't even care anymore. i am tired.

and.

i just need a break.

little earthquakes

it's been a long time since tori amos has spoken to me.
been a while since i have lost my ability to speak.
when you said i was the love of your life i believed you.
face pressed against black metal fence.

a little less than a happy high, a little less than a suicide

the dog is mine. don't you dare. don't you try.

because i can take you. and the dog is mine.

and i never thought he would be this way? and i never thought it would come to this?
and all my naive proclamations like oh no, not that, not us. we are kind people. we are adults. we made this decision together and we are going to be alright.

and what the hell did i know. why did anyone listen to me? how could i know i have never been divorced before. hell i married this guy. that's how good my judgment is. shit i once dated a guy who kicked me out of a moving car. don't listen to me. don't ask me. i don't know anything.

yesterday i would have told you that i was the most tired i have ever been but also the most full of hope. that i was on the brink of the best love. that i was on the brink of the best me. i would have asked you to be happy for me.

today i want to smash bottles on the street. i want a promise that i will land on my feet. so tell me something. tell me something else. because i am not in the mood but i might listen to you.

it turns out its only thursday and i spent the morning celebrating friday.

and i just need you to hold me.

(count the hours. remove the seeds.)

the happiest day of our lives....

maybe you didn't know that my mom was in the hospital the 9 days before my wedding. that she got out the day before. that i spent the week pacing my childhood hallways wondering what a wedding would be like without her. if i could take my honeymoon not knowing. the not knowing.

everything was beautiful, everything went smoothly, everyone had a good time, everywhere i looked i felt love, but my wedding day was not the day of girlhood dreams. me running around trying to do all those things, trying to care about flower arrangements and cake fuckin plates and how can you care when your mother might be... and a tropical storm came and people asked stupid questions like what should they do if it rains and my mother was too tired to help me with my hair and my sister over slept and i got ready and i felt alone and the stress of it all ohmygod the stress. i couldn't see straight. i didn't even notice tropical storm hannah pouring so much rain there had to be trenches and i didn't even notice josh's family throwing their disapproval every which way i didn't even notice the food trays or the beers that no one took out of the cases when they put them on the ice. i didn't notice anything but that she was there. because she was there.

people ask me now about my wedding. did i have fun? did i know then?

and it was an amazing week. nearly every single person i loved in once place at one time. all those hands lifting me up. after my illness and then my mothers. mygod i needed that. who doesn't? i needed that. it was amazing.

and i don't know what i knew then. only that i was so scared of the dying. only that i was so scared of losing more. only that i was so tired of hospital beds and visiting hours and the things that surrounded my life then. there was too much fog to see with any clarity. with blurry edges and dim dim light all i knew was that i got through the day unhitched, my mother was safe, and that i could finally take the time to start really living again.

around the way girl

who says you can't escape. who says a change of space won't help you breath. who says dreams don't come true.

i am closing the gap. i am embracing my romantic notions. i am filling in oceans with postcards and plane rides. i am handing back my tether, i am handing over my what-ifs. i am learning to more than survive. i believe in this.

i am leaving for paris & travels in spain in two and a half weeks. it's close enough finally to feel real. to picture the hotel beds, to taste the food, to feel the air. i can't wait to just be away. to just breath. to walk streets that don't even know me. to drink, to eat, to dance. to sleep through the night. to wake up rested. to laugh. ohmygod. you wouldn't believe how we laugh. you wouldn't believe how light i feel when we do. you wouldn't believe how it makes me feel/reel/revel. and it will be just enough. just right. just.

and this time i am running towards something. i am not running away. i am not holding vigil. i am not waiting for the shoe to drop. and all i want is to journey. all i want is this journey. all i want is this chance. this hope. this feeling i have like no matter what happens, no matter who stays, i am going to be okay. it is all okay. and there is nothing to be afraid of. nothing i want to get away from. nothing to run away from. anymore.

let's get high

i am wearing my coffee-wings right now. i.feel.pumped.up. i found two tootsie rolls in the pocket of my dress. i listened to loud music on the train. i saw a guy almost hit a squirrel on my walk to the T. he saw my face, braked-hard, saved the little guy, gave me the thumbs up and laughed.

it's a i-know-what-i-want-so-be-it-or-leave-it sorta day.

my high school boyfriend used to say i was salty. i am feeling pretty salty today.

waiting

i had a dream i was on some tarmac and i was waiting for him to get home and i was watching the faces go by, arms catching outstretched arms, people reaching, people holding. and he didn't come. and i was looking down the line. watching the furthest body, searching every outline. i started to cry walking across that dusty field, never looking away, knowing what i knew. he was somewhere, he would come, it's just that sometimes the waiting feels like it's breaking you right in two.

counting

today i counted my expenses, my earnings, my this and that. divorce paper financials. it's really just a business transaction now. you owe me this for all these years. but the real gains, the real losses don't show up on these sheets. don't have anything to do with raises and bonuses and credit card bills. but it's harder to explain these other things.

it's harder to put into lists and dollars the wisdom that comes with confusing what feels safe for what is healthy.

and i am not afraid anymore. not of falling in love, not of being destroyed, not of being with someone who can see the real me.

and just maybe things like fate and soulmates aren't just storybook sweets.

alone

i am alone in my office. i teach a financial fitness class every saturday this month to a group of women who make getting up on a saturday morning seem like a good idea. these women make me want to push through. sometimes it's not what you did or what you have its the people who surround you. i love these classes.

...

last night was not good. i made dinner, i set the table nice. i somehow believed that we would be the couple to defy all divorce story odds. we would stay friends. we would believe in eachother. we would be kind to ourselves, our pasts and eachother.

that was not the case.

we fought. he dissapointed me. i found myself mad when he said things that sounded like he was doing the right thing for himself finally (why can you do that now if you wouldn't do it the five years we were together and i begged you to) and mad when he said things that sounded like he was still making the same tired lethargic decisions (what will it take for you to hit rock bottom and just deal with your things). it's like no matter what he did i felt let down.

and also responsible. like i don't know if he can do it without me. and somehow that made me feel sad. like i was abandoning my own child. and i can't keep doing this for him. i can't keep righting his wrongs. i can't FIX THIS or FIX HIM or make him care or engage or change. but it made me feel bad/sad/helpless/.

so he left and i sat on a chair and i cried. and i didn't listen to anything. and i didn't say one word to anyone. because there is really nothing to say. just that it didn't work, i can't save him, and we definately can't be friends.

the saddest song

keep throwing punches. keep ducking low. keep remembering the things you said that i never meant to hear. that i never meant to know.

i need you so much closer

because it's hard with you so far away. because the days are long and it's not as fun to cook for one. because you said things that i believed and then the days turned to weeks and the oceans turned into worlds and you are a world away. and this month is getting me down. the yearly doctors appointments reminding me that i will never be like everyone else. the echocardiograms, the field vision tests, the secret patient world i am so good at slipping into. i don't like the way it feels to be me, there. i don't like the way it feels when the doctors tell me i am one of their youngest patients. i don't like the way it feels when they say i am lucky or unlucky or they sigh or touch my hand or make statements like 'wow you have certainly been through alot of this for someone your age'. i mean i don't know what i expect them to say. i meant hell it is quite a story. but i don't like the way it feels. i don't like the way i feel today. i don't like crying in a hospital bathroom alone after a series of arrythmias prompted further tests and the probe in my ribs doesn't feel good and the doctor moving my boob around to get a better "window" to my heart doesn't feel good and you are far away and that doesn't feel good and i am tired and i don't need an ultra sound machine or an ekg to tell me that my heart hurts today.

life advice from a 31 year old divorcee

don't marry the tin man.

keep your love locked down

i am sitting at my desk at work staring at my gatorade, staring at my smart water, staring at the computer screen, the to-do list, the newsletter notes, the blinking red light on my phone, staring, staring, staring. but my belly still hurts like HURTS and kanye west keeps telling me to keep my love locked down my love locked down and i want to dance and i want to scream and i am discontent and temperamental and over sensitive and under nourished and i'm not loving you the way i wanted to...

we

sometimes i forget and i still make statements with the "we". sometimes i still buy mayo even though i never even eat that stuff. sometimes i wonder if he is working late.

Effin Clams

so i got food poisoning. a bad clam. a bad effin night. gross things happened. the er. dumb drugs. iv's. tachycardia. its not a new drill for me. lay on a stretcher. look around. try to figure out what room it was that i laid in that night not ready for the dying or the living that came after. try to recognize a nurses face. hope that its not that same bad doctor. yeah i don't like cape cod hospital. yeah i don't have the best memories of the place. but i can go now without that quake inside. it's getting better.

today, my belly still hurts. i am swimming. i am alone. nothing inside me but gatorade. and i am bummed out.

i will always find the bad clam. i will always take the best fall. i will always land on my feet.

...

it's like learning how to love all over again. it's like watching the sun circling you. it's like ordering pudding and getting creme brulee.

lost

there are things i had. things i lost. a bread machine. a pretty ring. a hand to open every single door for me. he never stopped. he never forgot me. he always made promises that he couldn't keep.

i have always believed. i have always held on.

but now, and lately. i am not sure what to hold on to.

you'd think that doing the papers would just be a formality. the next step on the to-do list. but i haven't slept well in two nights. i made lists of reasons in my head of why i should post-pone this evening. i started to cry listening to npr. the truth is that i am not convinced that i will ever find someone i can rely on like this ever again. oh i will have head spinning love. i will have adventures. i will have boys at my door, marriage proposals, all these stupid fantasys that i will only pretend i can believe in still. i will laugh away nights over enchiladas and chimachangas at the local spot. but i don't know if i will ever find someone to rely on like this again.

and then i think. fuck em all. at least i have me. and then i think. fuck them all. it's always been. and it will always be.

liz phair, morning light, and dreams that you hope don't come true

it's true they were more like nightmares. more than nightmares. things that could come true. things he might say about me. i woke up screaming in a paper cup. because there is nothing to say. really. because no one can save me from this day. really.

because liz phair was talking about me when she sang those words, fuck and run.

because i put on my new balances, i stretched my quads and i am perched at the starting line and i am ready to go.

mostly

i like walking through a house that has been touched by no one but me. i like finding my keys and my book and my gross work out clothes right where i left them. i like the quiet. i like the moment. i like the movement. i like eating bok choy in ramen for dinner. i like the sound of the leaves brushing against the side of my house.

i mean there are things. i mean there are moments. i mean being alone can be lonely. i want to go apple picking. do you want to go? i want to chase the sun. can you come?

even with all this. even without. i need the quiet moments to watch my netflix and to cry because she lost or he left or true love doesn't always win.

i am trying to be happy. i am doing the things. acupuncture, exercise, yoga breathing, eating well. warm baths. angry letters. good friends. international calls. i am trying to be happy.

and mostly, i am.

Algorithms

If only there were algorithms for life. Some sort of guarantee. Some way of knowing how you will get there. Not that I would use them. Not that I believe in those kinds of anything. Not that I listen anyway.

Autumn is here. My nose is cold but I like wearing the sweaters. I like the staccato to the days.

These past months I have talked endlessly to my friends about love. The how-do-you-know. The can-you-be-happy. God knows I have not always had the kindest lovers. I have passed years with hands that only wanted to hurt me. Josh was the safety net after all of the turmoil. And I needed that net. And I loved that net. And it felt good to be held. To not have to give anything back. But I need more than a place to lay my head. I need more than a hand that locks the door behind me. After California I swore off any love that could ever fufill me... because I knew, then, how it feels when that love leaves. And I didn't think I could lose even one more thing.

But I need to survive. I need to more than survive. I want someone so completely for me they can tell me to stop, to start quicker, to quiet down. I want someone who can see me. Who I can tell anything too. Someone who will still be there for me. I am tired of living with one body and secreting my life in letters and text messages trying to find the words that i need.

Because all those years before that is what I did.

To not feel alone.

Some people, some "friends", some strangers act as though I am not trying. Like I should make it work. Like some vow made during broken times is worth living a life of loneliness. Quiet. Despair.

And it's not that I won't put in the time. I am not afraid of the commitment or the ways that love changes. But I married someone because they made me feel safe. Because he took me to the hospital and physical therapy and on wheelchair outings to the mall. Because he didn't seem to care about the medications and the crutches and the tired way I passed my days. We have been through it and I love him for that but I am not in love. I am not fufilled. I am not getting the wifely things that I would need to be happy today, tomorrow or five years from now. And I won't drag out the good-bye to say I tried hardest. And I won't spend my life resenting someone because they aren't the person I want them to be. And I won't make it work just to prove that I can.

Because I am not afraid and I would rather be destroyed than never feel happy.

And the streets of Kazakhstan and the streets of Central Square, they are full of faces who every day are making hard things work. Days spent running circles around circles praying to an unfair God for some break, some chance, something to take them away.

And I don't have to do that. And this is something I can change. And if everyone just made it work because they could there would be no revolutions. There would be no civil rights and there would be no walks on Washington.

You don't have to go along just because it's what the rest of them do.

And I will never walk that road just to be more like you.

some will win, some will lose, some were born to sing the blues.

life is messy. you say too much you hold back too long you can't get the time right. no matter how sure you feel someone will always think you are wrong. and it's the ups and downs. and it's the dusty skies. and it's the fire smolder, the sticky hands, the work meetings that start with thai food and end with you talking about pigeons with chicken feet in kazakhstan. it's all very.

i wouldn't ask you to listen. i won't plead my case. i don't even know if i care to see you again.

so i will write my promises on a bathroom wall. pledge my love and hope the right eyes read it. or i'll guns 'n roses your ass til i get it right.

because i have never felt so close. and i am ready to land from the fall.

oh kazakhstan you, you got what i need...

It was everything I needed that trip to be.

...

and she's taking taking taking taking taking off.

kazakhstan

tomorrow it's on. kazakhstan. free falling. really getting away.

i am mostly excited. i don't have any idea how it will be. i like the not knowing. i like having no expectations. there will be an alphabet i can't read, a language i can't understand, food i won't dare eat, and open arms, open space and new faces and all the things that i need.

i want to talk all night and sleep all day.

i want to fall in love with kittens and black eagles and with me.

i am going to fall in love with the moment. i am going to let it sweep me away.

because here. that girl at the housewarming party. that voice on the phone. that soon to be ex-in-law. that "friend" wearing her moral overcoat. they wear me out.

it.
wears.
me.
out.

metal tables.

of course i knew it was going to change me. i mean when you almost die it's all people talk about. not that i knew the rules. not that i could find one other person who was impaled 8 inches in the ass by a wine glass who could enlighten me as to what i had in store. but mygod it's all people talked about "these things change you". and hell change was hard to get around. i walked out my parents door on my own two feet wearing new black pants, a black ballet top, heals. i woke up 15 hours later on a metal table full of someone else's blood. i understood that things had changed and fast. what i didn't know was in how many ways.

i mean some of it was obvious. i had to come home from the hospital in an ambulance because i couldn't sit up. i was so weak i had to use crutches to get the twenty steps to the bathroom. and it took time. damn i wasn't dancing those days. i had a drain coming out of the top of my thigh. the constant feeling of warm thick blood on my legs. i had to lay flat on my back. and it hurt. ohmygod like grating on your very will to live pain. like i can't breath pain. like don't effin talk to me pain. and the drugs. so many drugs. i couldn't go up stairs. i couldn't bath myself. i could barely walk from the bedroom to the living room.

so this is how i drifted into the background of my very own life. this is how i stopped playing a center role. this is when i became a witness to a life i was too afraid to want to live. and so i passed a new england winter in a yellow room in the back of my parents house (i couldn't actually stay in my own room because it was on the second floor and we already discussed my problem with stairs). i read books that my friends named to me in lists, i wrote letters begging for a reprieve, someone else's moment to erase me, i listened to chopin on my discman and pretended i could fly out of my body and leave it all behind.

i did physical therapy exercises that involved things like lifting my leg while i laid in bed. when i was a little stronger i went to the mall in a wheelchair just to get out. went for long drives just for some light. stood as close to the ocean as i could just to smell someone else's air. and i threw up nearly everything i ate. i had nightmares. i hugged a heating pad. i opened care packages of lip glosses, poetry books, socks with grippy feet, pajamas, prayer dolls, flowers everywhere. i was astounded by the love around me but i didn't know what each day was for. the change was so complete i didn't believe in anything anymore.

people would say things. sweet, kind comforting things. things like "you are here for a reason". "you are so strong." "you look so much better than last week." and all i wanted to do was to throw something at them like a shoe. and all i wanted was something to scream too. and i wanted to know what the reason was for all of this. and what i wanted to know was why i had to be strong when they got to be weak and happy. and if you asked me then i would have told you that all i saw in front of me was nothing and all i had to lose was nothing and i got up each day and i did this breathing shit that i had to do because what else was i supposed to do.

these things change you.

eclipse

maybe you didn't know.

i spent a day in tenth grade staring directly at an eclipse of the sun because i wanted to see it more than i wanted to not go blind.

Confession

I feel like I have to start my conversations with "I have a confession". This shameful little secret. This nasty little game.

My friends are the easy part. The ones who see inside me say all the things. It's the others I worry about. The fauxs, the relics, the family. Oh god the family. Those ones who don't see me, who only see the things they think I should have been.

And it should be enough to say: I want to be happy.
I am figuring out how I can.
And I can't believe that I am the first one to change the game before the end. It can't be that this is all I am.

I don't feel brave, I don't feel wise, it's just this weight. Lifting. (The truth will set you free) or let them speak, let them stare, let them wonder how it came to be. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to be honest. And that is all I am trying to do. To live an honest life. To hold an honest love. To find a moment that I won't have to push through. I have nothing but this feeling inside. This voice. This pulse that I am finally listening to.

I spent a night in love with New York. The dancing, the filth, the friends. The safety of the faces that know everything about who I was and nothing of where I have been.

But who says there aren't second chances. Third. Eighth.

Who put the quota on how many times you can change your mind or what fuck up is okay and what fuck up is too big to live through. Who told you that doing the best thing for you is anything but The.Best.Thing.

At night I close my eyes and it's the same soft light that it's always been. And I know now how my love should have always been.

depeche mode, the smiths, and a wednesday is not hump day here.

i have left lives behind before. i have been a million people. i have hated a million days.

but i wish i didn't have to do this day.

it's just that i am used to his shoes in the closet. it's just that i am used to drinking the coffee he has left on the counter for me. it's just that i am not used to sleeping in a house alone anymore. it's just that thunder scares me.

it's just that.

i can take it

it's not that i can't take the punches.

but really, i am tired of listening to you.

home

i woke up pissed. i hardly slept last night because i was so sick to my stomach i wanted to shoot myself in the face. now this is just an expression. but really if you could do one thing for me, one thing, i wouldn't even ask you to save my leg. fuck. i would just ask you to fix my belly. and these things go.

yeah i woke up pissed. just because. just because.

my respite it over. i am tired. there are belongings to be divided. i will miss the things i am giving up for real happiness. things like having someone who will do it for it no matter what. or someone to kick when you are down.

'cause i want to kick something. i want to hit something. i want to fuck it up and leave it broken.

or i already did. or i don't care what you think about me.

or how about some days, some mornings, some times i am sick of my body and the ways it reminds me of that day. or how about some mornings i want you to fix me and when you don't i hate you too. or how about some days i just don't care how i sound to you.

chi-town

i love this city, this chicago. the deep dish pizzas, the 2 dollar drafts, the pretty parks, the jazz, lake michigan. i passed a night with an old college friend and we had so much fun we were mistaken for a couple. it's nice to have those kinds of laughs with that kind of person who gets who you are and where you have been. someone who speaks the language of ethnography and diane arbus and who knows who you mean when you refer to a girl named "manatee".

i have spent even more of my trip alone though. because i want to. because i remembered how much i need solitude sometimes. my second night here i found an indian restaurant in a new part of town. the spread was impressive. delicious. beautiful. i realized that at that moment not one person knew where i was and something about that made me feel lighter than i have felt in years. and i like to eat out alone. to people watch and to not share and to not care what anyone else is saying. and i like drinking coffee again. going to the gym each night (12 miles is pretty good for someone who was once not sure if she would ever walk without a cane again).

and i remembered things about myself again. like that my fear of athlete's foot is stronger than my love for steam rooms. and that i am not afraid of city streets and i'm not afraid of sleeping alone and i am not afraid to tell the truth and sometimes you have to learn to love even the worst you.

i leave for kazakhstan in less than a month. i leave for kazakhstan in 27 days. i leave for kazakhstan in 4 weekends and three days. and sometimes i can hardly breath to think about it. i haven't taken a chance, i haven't reached for a star, i haven't believed in these things in so so long. and i could use an adventure. and i could use a dream. and i want to be brave and i am becoming these things.

i am becoming the person i have always meant to be.

i can't hide

i remember the first time we looked at rings. i had a broken heart (literally - it was a virus that effed up my sinus node and walking to the bathroom made my heart pound so hard my head would flutter. i passed time in mass general, rhode island hospital, newton-wellesley. i had ekg's and iv's and blow up leg cuffs to keep me from getting blood clots. i used a bed pan and watched my heart rate on a monitor shoot up to 200 just laying in bed then go all the way down to 30. in the end they told me there was nothing they could do. in the end they said they didn't know why it was happening and that they didn't know that it would ever stop now that it was mine. they mentioned pace makers and life spans and potasium levels patted my back and said they were sorry. i left rhode island hospital with a prescription for weekly blood tests, three bottles of pills and orders to lay flat on my back if my heart rate went over 150. i carried a stop watch to calculate my pulse. i became afraid to even take a shower if i was home alone). i had my questions. i had my doubts. there were so many parts of me that weren't fufilled. but hell. it was nice to have something that i could say for sure. because that month, those years, in the moments when i layed flat on my back on the floor waiting for my breath to come, my pulse to slow, i wasn't sure i had anything.

punches

i have a good swing but a bad land. i never protect my knuckles right. i don't know the right way to stand. i won't drink raw eggs but i feel very rocky these nights lifting weights and listening to my ipod in the angriest/most-triumphant way.

i mean he's right. i mean i am a bitch. i mean i do get angry every time i walk into the living room and hear the tv and see the lethargy and the dirty dishes and the dirty towels and the dirty past and the ways he doesn't even care if any of this/us/it succeeds.

so i quarentine myself to the back corner of the house. spend hours in my bedroom reading, drawing maps of where i have been, look for a light. i answer calls, i write letters, i close my eyes and visualize white light and pink sheilds and let my head feel heavy on the floor. i exercise, i fantasize, i hypothesize. its all very 2003 post-accident for me. waiting for the fog to lift. waiting for the horn to sound. the one that starts things.

because really i am not a bitch. really i am not rocky. really i am ready for the me i will be when i can finally put to rest all of this.

blogging

some people use blogs for inspiration. they write the things they want to be. some for motivation. a call to arms. a call to harms. some people blog to share information. salutations. to keep up family relations like everyone is dying to know what you wore on halloween. maybe its a kids thing. i have none so i know no one cares. or a me thing. the things i have to say might not make my nana and papa feel all that warm and fuzzy inside. i don't even have much to share. just that it's a monday night. i got a little drunk at a central square bar with a colleague after work. and i closed my eyes on the subway ride home and almost forgot where i was going and even better, where i was coming from.

divorce

sometimes things don't work the ways they were supposed to. or maybe they do. but not the ways we planned. sometimes it takes years to listen to that voice that is inside you. i like to write it this way. to make it universal. to make it yours too. because it feels worse to say i am 31 years old and i realized too late the mistake i had made. so i am 31 and i am getting a divorce and i have not even been married a full calendar year and i know what you are thinking so you don't need to say it and i know what you are imagining so you don't need to draw it but the truth is i want to get out before the scars form. i want to fix it before we break each other so badly it takes years to recover the things we had been. i want you to know i know how this sounds. i want you to know i know how this sounds. i want you to know i know how this sounds.

this

this is not the life i pictured when i was picturing life. if you told me then that this is what it would do i would not have believed you. i would have told you to take it back. i would have thrown it back at you.