long walks equal thoughts.

in trying to wrap my head around all of this i've realized something, that i always knew, that's only being affirmed, again: life isn't a love song, and it isn't a sitcom where you find a conclusion to your problems in 60 minutes, and it isn't a poem with comforting pentameter and a steady, predictable flow of words.

it's raw. and sometimes it's as sweet as chocolate. and sometimes it just hurts.

there's never an easy way out. you can't ever ignore your problems, because if you do, they take over you. you can't blame fear for your failures. sometimes you have to ask for help, and sometimes it's humiliating. and you have to fight like hell to stay open to love, because if you don't, then you'll never have it.

somedays life finds you sitting in your gynecologists office, sans pants, crying your eyes out and holding up all of his appointments behind you. somedays your longtime doctor proves he's a pretty good friend. somedays your mind is so far away, you get lost in your very own neighborhood, having taken a turn onto a street you never knew existed. and somedays what you thought you knew, much to your surprise, was a web of lies.

as much as i feel like i cannot drag myself out of this fog, i know i'll get out of it eventually. as i have a few times before in life. and i'll be okay. it won't be a cute punny primetime packaged process, but i will get out. and just like every time before, i'll be even stronger, even more resilient, and even more open than i was before.

can't touch this. da nuh nuh nuh, da nuh, da nuh.

my emo blog.

you're spot on about that one. this blog is filled with nothing but bullshit about you. stuff that never was real.

so go back to reading one about fashion. and shitty music. and airhead celebrities. and ugly ass pictures of her making the duck face.

YES I AM BEING INCREDIBLY IMMATURE BY WRITING ALL OF THIS. but i don't care anymore.

i don't care. i don't care. i don't.

hearing your voice on the phone just now made my stomach turn. talking to you about her. i thought i was going to puke.

so i hung up the phone and started to cry. and started to have a panic attack. i ran to the bathroom and started digging through the medicine basket for an inhaler, i found it, i used it, my breathing started to slow and calm down. i just stayed there, leaning in the doorframe of the bathroom closet for a minute, letting it hold me up.

when i realized.

i forgot a few of your things in the bathroom closet. i used to love the sight of your stuff everywhere. how your clothes never wind up in the hamper. how you'd spit in the bathtub while you were peeing, and it was gross, but it'd dry up and stick. how you never quite closed the cabinets or drawers in the kitchen.

but the sight of your stuff still tucked away in the closet, all mixed in with mine, only made me start crying again.

huh. the same behavior/accident that got me dumped...

...proved to an entire professional organization how capable i am and ended up getting me promoted.

figure that one out.

dead dead deadsky.

never trust the living.