Question Answered

I found him.  My brain finally kicked into gear.  I knew there was a resource all along, but I was so caught up in the emotion of it.  I know for sure.  I said I’d let it go once I knew.  

Breathe in the memory… Deep and slow.

Breathe out the pain and regret.

Let it go.  The shreds of hope are no more real than the faulty dreams attached to this image by the ingenuous photographer.
Breathe in.  Breathe out.


Life Struggles

Sometimes I try to check in and watch updates about Puerto Rico.  It makes me nauseous.  I need to try to get there on a volunteer trip when I get out of work.  It seems to be more difficult than I thought it would.  Work has gotten in my way all these months, but in summer, I’m free.

I get frustrated because I’m having trouble with the agency getting my rent check, because I want a new job, etc.  But there are still people without homes, without electricity, and barely enough food to surviv because of a hurricane 5 months ago.  I need to put my own issues into perspective.  


I finally have my plotline for the novel I want to write.  I’ve been thinking about it for years.  That’s an understatement.  It actually stems from a story I started writing in high school, but stopped because it wasn’t fully developed.  I was stuck on the how.  Over the last few weeks, it’s been unraveling in my head.  Thwn this evening, as I knitted and some plotless movie played on the TV, my gaps were filled in.  Don’t worry.  I wrote notes so I won’t forget.  Now I’m ready to start.  It kinda feels like a weight lifted.  I wrote one piece tonight, but I’ll officially start tomorrow.

Rough draft

What if I wrote

The words

I wish to say to you?

Would you recognize them as my truth?

But you see,

 I came tonight fearing rejection.

I know it’s unlikely 

A man like you 

-educated, kind, and passionate-

Would be interested in dating someone like me

I … I… I mean, historically

It’s a man of different quality

who would pursue a woman like me.

Yet in spite of history

I came in effort to gain your attention

Wondering what’s wrong.

I wish I could ask and you could answer.  Why is it that educated men with degrees and good jobs have no interest in me?

There was one.  Once.  I loved him.  But when he got someone else pregnant, it broke my heart and I drove a distance between us   couldn’t be repaired.  That distance grew like cancer.

But besides him, educated men don’t want me.  They typically won’t even ask me out, but those dumb enough to attempt a date or two are always blunt enough to say it, “You’re a nice girl and I have fun hanging out with you, but I don’t feel a connection.  You’re not what I’m looking for.”

I wish I knew why.  Maybe if I knew, it wouldn’t bother me so much.  Maybe if I knew, I coupe change into a better person. Or maybe if I knew, I’d start to dislike me, too, and therefore the truth must always be hidden.  

Part of Me

Part of me has been waiting…

Waiting for you to show up at my door or be there when I get somewhere.

I would throw my arms around you, gripping tight.  Tears would flow down my face as I asked if you were real.

Damn.  They well in my eyes Judah thinking about the idea.

Part of me knows…

Knows you’re not coming back. I’ll never see you again.  

I know you sent me that message.  The love in the dream.  Telekinesis.  If people knew, they’d say I’m finally going mad… Succumbed to the insanity gene habored in my body.  But you wouldn’t. You have the same empath abilities.  You have told me so.

I can’t figure out if you were accidentally reaching out – a memory so real I tapped into it.  If you reached out on purpose, misssing the love we had.

Or worse.  If that was your fleeting energy as your soul left this Earth the moment you died.  A weight in my stomach passes.a.wave of nausea through my body each time I remember this dream.

Part of me is ready…

Ready to love again.  It will never be the same.  No love can be the same as what we had.  But that’s okay.  I don’t really want it to be.  I want what we had to be specially unique.

But I can hope for a similar excitement on my bones.  I can hope for a connection from my heart.  I can hope for someone who understands me and accepts me for who I am.  

You’re the only one who ever did.  Maybe it’s the empath in us that allowed us to connect.

Par of me prays…

Prays for your safety and well-being every day.

Although it doesn’t really matter.  Because if you died, no amount of prayer will change that.  Maybe I’m being punished – will spend the rest of my life wondering. 

Part of me wants…

Wants to forget the live we shared.

Part of me hilds on…

Holds on because even if it wasn’t real, our love was the best gift I ever received.

Saturday Mix: Girl in a Blue Dress

She was sitting at the bar when I walked in to the Pre-New Years festivities.  Wearing a blue dress – well not blue, really.  one of shades of blue that my girl – friend would tell me, “That’s not blue, it’s…” turquoise or teal or some other fancy name – the bight pink liquid of her martini glass faded into her deep red lips.  He pale skin contrasted with her dark hair and blue-ish dress.  The decision was made.  This alluring specimen would be my next conquest.

She inspired an untested pick-up line.  I placed my back to her like I didn’t notice she was there.  I rock-stepped and shuffled a couple times.  I spun to face her, looked her straight in the eyes, “I tried to swing dance by myself, but it didn’t work.  Dance with me.”  She laughed – a sound somewhere between hearty and melodic – and grabbed my hand.  It wasn’t until I spun her that I noticed her hair.  Beneath her dark-brown locks, she had hidden waves of bright blue.  An inconspicuous way to make a statement: there is more to me than meets the eye.

My first impression of her liquified and began dissolving.  I pulled her toward me into a closed position and looked into her eyes.  For a moment I was lost, methodically moving, yet forgetting I was leading a dance.   Suddenly inspired with a reckoning I had never felt before, I knew this girl would either be more than just an acquired notch on my bed post or she would be nothing; lost to the void of a fleeting, phantasmal memory.

I danced with her two more times before I sat down in front of her.  I asked her age, but got lost in her eyes, losing track of… something.  I abruptly ended the moment, offered her a hand-shake, and bid her adieu.

But now she haunts me like a dream I can’t grasp.


Written for:  Same but Different Saturday, December 30, 2017.