I may not need them... but I sure as hell still have them.

Words fall short of the wide spectrum of emotions I've felt and feel since your goodbye.

I hope things have been for you, and continue to go, well and exactly... as you wish.


Happy Birthday, Leia.

It's funny. It's always funny how life likes to rip into me. I feel lonely. And I have someone. But she had to deal with life and will be away for an uncertain length of time. I miss her. I want her next to me. Learning her... feeling her... breathing in her scent... Tasting her lips. I smile as I remember her gentle words. How I matter to her.

But that's what scares me. Those words were said to me quite often in the past. Sworn upon and promised with the deepest of situation dependent sincerity. Because they left me. They left me, hard. In no way were they gentle and in no way did they try to ease their breaking every promise they ever made. They almost broke me even further. Perhaps they did.

What I don't understand is why I can't shake the feelings that I have? I miss them sure. I don't lie to myself. I'm not trying to pretend like the relationships didn't exist. I'm not trying to forget. But.... healing is naught but impossible at this point. I shared so much with them, that every other thought somehow is connected to them. Who cares, right? Not them. I've been all but forgotten entirely, and yet here I sit, making another pointless homage to them like they will ever feel what I feel. Because it absolutely is not in the past tense. I don't work like that.

This loneliness is hard to deal with, but I deal. Somehow. Through my painful struggles with my actual life and my daughter consuming the majority of my thoughts; When I sit back and ask myself... why am I so alone in dealing with any of this... I can't seem to answer it. And the thing is... I'm not alone. I have someone who gets upset because she's not able to be here for me. To talk. To share. To learn. But her life has to come first before anything with us can be focused on... I just want her near.

I feel the familiar yearning... for the company of her, the person that makes me feel like I am more than another name. And this helpless yearning eats at me. Reminds me of my past... and I ask myself... things that I don't like. I've been made to feel replaceable and unimportant before. I pray that doesn't happen again. I'm so terrified. Afraid... that the same will happen... but I'm pressing on. I have to. I owe that to myself.

I owe thanks to those who tread on the shards of what's been left of my heart. You taught me that I'm still alive. And that I can feel. I just wish I didn't miss such hurtful people. What good is it doing me? Hoping the best for them, and wishing the best to them should be enough for my soul to rest... something takes this away.

Take your memories.

I don't need them.

A rose by any other...

Names have a strange power. For those with respect and honor, a person's name is no trifle. Some endeavor to remember it, some forget it as if it were nothing. And others only commit a person's name to memory, when they feel they are worthy of uttering it. Whatever the practice, nicknames have a soothing, softening magic. They help, but ultimately it is up to the owner of the name to signal the other, how and if their name is to be used. 

In my perception and manner; I shy from using another's name too easily. Time and acclamation and of course the other's cue let's me know just how I stand with them. Either Respect or amorous intent, names have a power. Some of us feel it more than others. I feel it in my own way. 

"...your name is a golden bell, hung in my heart. 
I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name."

I don't understand myself. I was always timid and shy, but not this worried about people. I've lost the confidence in myself to even be able to look someone I've just met in the eye. I have become that unsure of myself. Words and actions and my own self doubt, though slowly, have finally begun to break me down. I can't stand for that. I miss myself. I miss my laughter. I miss how people took to me before I broke inward.

I miss me.

I mourn who I once was, and I incessantly hope that I can find him again. I need him... I need the I that I once was. He was stronger, headstrong and confident enough to not let just mere words and anger hurt him so. I just have to guess that he just was not indestructible. I seek for him every waking moment. I glance at the mirror bashfully, almost avoiding it, in hopes of recognizing something amongst the ashes for what remains. I feel dry as soot. and fearful as ever. I have so many excuses, I sicken myself. I need to surpass this. My daughter needs me to.

I hide behind my anger. It's all that anyone sees of me anymore, and I rationalize that is enough since they don't truly care who I am. My complaints and controversial views on life are what people know me by. Angry, confrontational and coarse. Inapproachable. Cruel. Only these resonate to those who view me with shallow interest. I've resigned myself to believing that this is okay.

Isn't it?

I am nay sure of myself any longer. 

"You are always breaking the rules, 

no matter what society you are in!"                                -Leia

These words echo ceaselessly...
They are true. 

~Answers~


A guitar without strings, 
a piano without keys. 
The brass with no wind 
and the loneliest of violins;
Would still play the most gorgeous of orchestras
but from within the conductor's mind it's in.

And to those whose mis-shapen worlds
have rendered emotions naught;
would find themselves smiling
when understanding timing of the irony at thought.

And to all rodents who scamper 
in the man-made phaze;
Little difference to albino and runt
but what they remember about the maze.

A game this all is,
even with emotions you need a scorer. 
The world isn't quite yet gone
so it's not... 
quite... 
yet... 
...over.

When what you are watching makes you laugh and reach out to touch the person you wished was right there, and you are reminded why you were watching that to begin with... realizing it isn't working.