“I was born in the arms of Imaginary Friends.” Half of My Heart- John Mayer ft. Taylor Swift.
Dude this song is beautifully composed and it is sung by two of my most epic favorite artists. I can’t keep Loving You. I love it!
It’s like the heart-ache of lost love embodied within a melody and lyrics. The video is so tear jerkingly sweet and melancholy.
Why the hell should I title the angsty drama that is my life? I have a choice, a right, a moral wellbeing (maybe). I can hold tight or let go
depending on my mood and mental status.
God forgive me when I don’t immediately make eye contact. It’s not you. It’s me. And dammit it’s my life. My eyes are the windows to my soul- don’t look. No vacancy. No habla espanol. If I could just close my eyes for a day and look inside them myself; my soul; my inner ME. If. If I could I might fly. Or kill myself. or both. No particular order of course. But then again I’m assuming. Assumptions are the tool of the devil. bleh.
I can’t help it if I’m a downer on your “up”. So sorry if I’m not happy when you are jubilant, I’m not smiling when you’re soaring. Goddammit how can I feel anything at all when I’m so alone? How is it that my brain keeps saying “This is not normal, look up, look him in the eye, return the smile, say hello, resist the urge to shrug,” my heart keeps telling me “He’s not the one, no one is, because you’ve been without a man in your life since you were eight, why the hell would anything change now?” Rational me versus Emotional me. It’s a fight. Fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee. I love you but you’re never here, I’m oh so queer, Gosh darnit you can’t make me smile anymore. Is it chronic- Not smiling? Missing you is like missing my hand- I use it daily, I wash it, I care for it, I abuse it, I need it. It’s gone and I can’t do anything. Cripple. Emotional, physical. I am handicapped by my loss. Angst angst angst. Now I need to breathe again. Breathe without assistance. Breathe without you. I shall fly without you once more. I am no longer lost in the abyss that was you. Because I am back. Back. To me. You and me are dead because you are dead. And now it’s just me. Looking for a new you? Not now.. not yet. Someday. I’ll think of you when I take my first step, shed this dead skin like a caterpillar about to blossom into its short lived Butterfly glory.
Can’t wait for the day when I’ll wake up and find myself next to someone beloved. It’s sometimes hard to wait for the thing you want the most, then again what isn’t? Imagine, somebody who’ll make you coffee and toast with raspberry preserves. Someone who’ll laugh at you when you act snobby and who’ll hold you when you’re crying. That person who will tolerate your well meaning mother, your obnoxious brother, etc etc etc.
That person is far for now though. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s right next to me just waiting, for the day when i’m in just the right outfit and he’s got just the right words.
So my mom’s friend from Saudi Arabia is visiting this Summer. She is staying with her five kids at her friend’s large two story home. This coming holiday weekend, Friend’s husband is coming home from business and wants time with the family- alone. As a result, vacationer and mother of five tells us she’s staying at our home for SIX days. SIX. She has not called us for three years. How can she expect us to A) House her brood B) Babysit said brood C) Pay for groceries, restaurants, shopping, and gas? OH YEAH- her twelve year old boy is autistic and completely dependent upon others. It isn’t his fault but she can’t expect someone to just jump in and be a caretaker for a special needs child. How do you tell someone “No, I don’t want to take you in and completely raise your family for you and feed you and clothe you. No thank you.” I just don’t have the gall (or the balls) to tell someone that. It’s too much. It’s ridiculous in this day and age- that type of visiting ended almost 100 years ago. Goodness gracious. Can’t deal, yo.