sometimes i think of you and i'm angry again - not usually, not even often or once in a while - but on those rare occasions that i think of you - and i remember - i want to blame you for everything - for the snowball of hurt that you sent my way - that just picked up speed on its way down - knocking others over in its frenzy - because it's not fair - i broke a heart like it was no big deal - like snapping a leaf off a tree branch - and i can't blame him for being in pieces - no more than i can blame myself for being angry - at you - because you said forever - god, how freaking cliche - because you said it was you and me - in it to win it - but hell, i was in it - and yeah, you won my heart - but where did that get me - what did that get me - (it's 3AM and i must be lonely)

i hate that you have so much of me - my living journal, my walking diary - so many stories told and found in you - now lost forever - it's no wonder i made the cry of a wounded animal - when i hurled your news across the room - i knew a part of me was dying or would - do you even know how you broke me - how i am still picking up the pieces - shouldn't i be done by now - isn't this over yet - (i hate that your memory can still hurt me)

and i just feel it all over again - the pain comes crashing over me - like an old friend with a bear hug - crushing me to itself until i'm forced to remember - and i'm forced to feel - and that old ache swells again in my chest - and the lump rises again in my throat - and i remember how it felt to be choking on air - suffocating amidst the dust of my world in shambles around me - i can feel it

and in moments - it's gone - and i remember the boy - but i don't remember the feeling anymore - all i know is that it is not in my nature to forgive - i wonder if i'll ever really get there - but i'm breathing now - and that must mean something

"Every woman I've ever met feels it--
something deeper than just the sense of failing at what she does.
An underlying, gut feeling of failing at who she is.
I am not enough, and, I am too much at the same time.
Not pretty enough, not thin enough, not kind enough,
not gracious enough, not disciplined enough.
But too emotional, too needy, too sensitive,
too strong, too opinionated, too messy.
The result is Shame, the universal companion of women.
It haunts us, nipping at our heels,
feeding on our deepest fear
that we will end up abandoned and alone."
- Captivating by John & Stasi Eldredge

sometimes i think i feel too much
(all that's left is all of me)

[on resolutions]

I said I'd give You my attitude, didn't I?
Help me give it to You again today.
And tomorrow. And the next day.
And the next...

[and as these shadows fall on me now]

"Shut up," Ender whispered.

Because she saw that his chest was trembling, because she knew that she had indeed hurt him, because she knew that just like Peter, she had found his weakest place and stabbed him there, she fell silent.

[asphyxiation]

i've always been a sensory sort of gal
in uncannily amelie-like fashion

the sound of clacking keys beneath my finger tips
the feel of inky black pens carving thought
into the unwilling softness of white
the scent of sharpie permanence

--just itching to feel
because i don't know myself
without words

[what is love?]

it's what frees you
to be exactly who you are
and could be

[seck you lerr]

Soon I want to blog about why I hate the term "secular."
Hate it. Abhor it. With a passion.
Soon.
Not now.
But soon.