Tuesday, September 29, 2009

The Story of Me and You.

I wrote this a few weeks ago. It was liberating.

The story of me and you.

I’m tired of the story of you and me.
I’m sick of you being connected to me.
I’m done always running back to you.
I’m over you coming back to me.
It didn’t work out,
Lets just both move on.
I’m gonna go my way.
You go your own.
I’ll keep doing my thing.
You do whatever it is that you do.
I don’t care about your birthday,
You’re not obligated on mine.
I won’t be drunk texting you anymore.
Please don’t drunk text me either.
I’m tired of the story of you and me.
You broke up with me,
I’m over you.
You cheated, we’re done.
End of story, move on.
I’m tired of the story of you and me.
I’m sick of “us” and tired of “we”.
It’s over, it’s the end.
No more “special friends.”
I won’t come to you with my problems.
Please don’t bring me yours.
I thought you made me happy
But I realize I was always sad.
I’m finally completely done with you
And I feel nothing else but glad.
I’m sick of the story of you and me.
I kept bouncing back to you,
As you bounced back to me.
The love wasn’t there,
But the physicality was.
No more, I’m done.
Times change, I need a different one.
I’m tired of the story of me and you.
It didn’t work out.
We’re done.
We’re through.
You be you.
Let me be me.
I’m free.

Old ramblings from my head.

This is something I wrote a while ago but it still holds true. Just one of my random rambling tangents I go off on sometimes. Sometimes, you just gotta get things off your chest.

Sometimes, the me in my head is a lot different from the me on the outside. I envision myself in a certain way but then I look in the mirror and my confidence is shattered. My hair is different, I weigh a lot more, I’m not as talented, and I’m not as much of a badass. My confidence is lacking. My complexion is terrible, and I have cellulite. I want to fix all of those things but my will power is none existent. In my head, I’m always strong and know exactly what to say. I’m more sarcastic and witty. I’m indifferent. On the outside, my emotions get the best of me and I overreact. I try to bottle up my anger and stay calm like in my head, but it ends up causing an emotional explosion. I want to be that stylish, confident, sexy, witty girl that lives inside my head. I want to look into the mirror and see that girl reflected back. I’m standing in my own way. I’m my own saboteur. I get a leg up and then throw myself off the ladder and have to start all over again. I’m sick of it. I’m ready to be the girl in my head. I’m ready to not be trapped inside of myself. It’s time for me to grab a hammer and bust my way out of my self made cage. I built up walls to protect myself from other people and I ended up trapping myself inside my own head. What a stupid girl I’ve been. I’ve gotta bust out. Time to break loose. Stop being lazy! Do something about my life instead of just sitting on my ass complaining about it. Take the initiative. Be brave. Do what I want to do, uninhibited. No more holding myself back. See it, want it, take it, have it, be it. Be like Nike, just do it!

Sunday, September 27, 2009


A week ago I had three months to prepare. Now, I have a few days. There's not that much to do, but it feels as though I don't have any idea where to start. To find a place to live is intimidating enough but then to not be able to see it before we call it home is overwhelming. To not have a job or sufficient income before calling a new city home is overwhelming. Having no friends or even acquaintances jumping into a new community is overwhelming. But not really. Laying it out like that, it seems simple. Find a place, get a job, make friends. It's easy. It's been done before. It was done before the interwebs gave us all these wonderful resources (I really can't imagine living in that world). My parents looked through the yellow pages under "Apartments" for their first place. Unthinkable. I have realtor.com. And looking for a new job is easier than ever with so many businesses listing openings on their own websites. All that's left is meeting new people, and though you could say it's easy to do online, it's also kinda creepy so we'll just have to leave that to the old fashion way and do it in person. Though, I am able to find nearby hockey rinks and music venues to aide in the chances of meeting people that I have stuff in common with. So, it turns out this awkward feeling in my stomach isn't being overwhelmed: it's being excited. I just misunderstood the butterflies.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

blowing bubbles

A simple act, easily mastered by a 6 year old in pigtails. Yet, often the demise of the same girl as she turns 18 and attempts to be taken seriously. A contradiction as the girl ages and turns stone cold, all the while inflating pink, sweet, sticky balloons. Eventually turning to a nostalgic attempt to cling to her youth as the substance clings to her shriveled lips. The bubble doesn't change, but the cheeks filling it with air use the bubble as a distraction, a memory, a toy. Till it pops...and gets stuck in her hair.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009


As the date stamp says, I wrote this before we started this wonderful blog.

Adventure. It's what my life is right now. In the middle of making a new life in a new place and a new version of my beloved husband. But adventure takes time to become excitement, and currently adventure is boring. I am on pause...waiting for the next leg of this adventure to begin, or rather, continue. Insomnia is apparently part of adventure, and it increases slowly to overtake the night in whole. The internal clock is anxious to reset it's alarm, when my body and mind require the proper amount of rest to recover from the day's excursions. Until it resets, it shall continue to buzz quietly in the shadows ever so slightly...like the content purr of a well kept house cat. It is boring, this lul in my adventure. It is also lonely, though not in the sad sense. Lonely in that I am alone for this leg. Surrounded by family, but not with my fellow traveler and so I am alone. Friends seem pointless to attempt, as though they would come with an expiration date. They would do little to quell my feeling of solitude, as they will not join me either. I am left to plan my next move, and I plan it well. For it is all I do these late nights and earlier mornings. I plan.