5 posts tagged “thoughts: how i feel”

Today, work is not working for me. This desk is not where I wish to play. I have stories in my head and things I'd like to do. Building ads, generating headlines, formatting words not my own - bothersome. Irritating.

I want to go home and play.
Fashion words to a page.
Edit and move.
Move and edit.
Or snip-snap shots from a camera lens.

New camera, that too is what I need.
New digital camera with changeable lenses.
I miss the feeling of my old 35mm...
...ratty bag filled with lenses and films.
Tripod strapped to my back and rugged boots made to explore.

This tame life I traded for the wild one I used to covet and call my own...
...I miss it on days like these.

My life lived in 40 hour stretches, 5 days a week.

Whatever!

Yeah, I've been a very bad Voxer.

And, it's not that there's noting happening in my life, because there's always something...

- something crazy and insane -

Sometimes, writing/blogging feels like constipation.

Yeah, delightful - Constipation. The word alone giving that joyfully corked feeling.

Already, I can hear my mother say: "The things that come out of your mouth sometimes."

"Yes, Mother...I am well aware (well not always) of the god awful things that fall from my lips. And if I'm not aware...the world around me turns and gives me a good pinch."

I get pinched a lot. Hmmm....

...but that's where my headspace is. So...until I can find the proper Wordular Laxatives to improve my ability to communicate via the written page I'll just drift along and avoid the crazies (despite being one myself).

*salutes and crawls back into her cardboard box*

- Muse, Out!

@#$%@!!!

My intention was not to start a fight.
I was curious.
Wanted to know.
I just thought it interesting...
I've never heard a name,
just vague references.
But, what I read...
there seemed to be more.
I wasn't spying.
I wasn't prying.
The info was public.
I just read, had questions.
And made a call I obviously shouldn't have.

My intention was not to start a fight.
I was curious.
Wanted to know.
But you got defensive.
Made excuses...
proclaimed  sudden innocence.
I wasn't spying.
I wasn't prying.
Your info was public.
I just read, had questions.
And...made a call I obviously shouldn't have.

So, now you're pissed.
I'm numb.
And...I wonder why the hell I even bother.

It was only a question.
Not an accusation.
But your reaction or overreaction...
makes me stop & think...

- Kicking Her Desk

Anti-Love - It's Safer.

"So, whatever happened to him?"

"Him?" I arched a brow, taking a quick glance at the faded photograph held in your hand.

"Him." You grinned, then pointed at me, "You. You know..."

On the inside - Flinch. I turned away, shrugging casually, "Food poisoning."

I heard you chuckle as you continued to paw through my box of scattered memories at your feet. I should've burned that box. "Food poisoning? Seriously, though...food poisoning?

I poked my head into the closet and closed my eyes and took in a sharp breath, "Yeah, you know...two people eat bad food, they get sick for a time, then eventually get over it."

"You're odd."

I arched a brow, "So people keep saying. What else is new?"

"The fact that you compare love to food poisoning is odd. What is it...you don't like love?"

Listening to you poke and prod makes me appreciate the fact that I'm an only child. If we'd have been siblings, I might've taken you out in your sleep. "It's not so much that I don't like love..."

"Then what is it?" You grinned as you held the picture towards me and made kissing noises. Yeah, you can be so freaking mature sometimes.

"Can I finish?" I grumbled. You laughed and inched closer to me on the floor, continuing with the kissing noises, which  caused me to snatch the picture and pop you in the forehead like a V8 commercial.

"Ouch!" You sock me in the shoulder as you rub your forehead. "So touchy."

"And you...such an ass," I glower. "Perhaps it's not so much that I don't like love...but that I don't like talking about it."

You feign a pout, "No dishing?"

"I don't dish."

"Yeah, I know. You're so no fun."

"I'm not supposed to be fun. I'm odd, remember."

Fake-Sibling routine over, we both go about our tasks in silence, photo still clutched tightly in my hand.

* * *

It's called falling in love..
They say it's not a planned thing. You were the least likely. Crude. Brash. Bully. You made me angry. Flushed, face, racing pulse. Heated like our words and extended fingers, flinging accusations as wild as our eyes - I hated you.

It's fast...
I hated you. H-A-T-E-D You! Yet, caught up, drunk on rage, I saw you starring at me, face flushed, pulse pounding wildly in your throat, our fingers extended like wands equipped with wardings. You stay on your half of the hall, i'll stay on mine. But something as reckless as rage wanted to cross that line. Cross the hallway, close the distance, press you up against the lockers and dissolve. This was how I hated you - hated that every other beat of my heart wanted - needed - to be drunk on you. I wanted to surrender the fire and fan the flames of a different kind of heat. A heat to consume both you and I, turning us to one.

Euphoric...
Wands of warding broke, our pointed fingers turned to searching hands beneath the light of a summer moon. Tangled tongues, kiss roughened lips. I liked barbed words and high volume voices. Wrapped in my anger, I was safe. Wrapped in your arms: vulnerable, euphoric, and experiencing.

A natrual high.
Addicted. I'm addicted to these feelings. I'm addicted to you. Just want to be tangled, twisted, wrapped around you - you wrapped around me. Pulse points race for a different reason then when we first met. The volume of voice exchanged for muffled moans. Sobriety, that one word flashes fleeting through the back of my mind, but I'm lost. High. Busy getting my fix.

Surrender.
Whispers, while fingers dance feather light across exposed flesh, the only music the low hum of a pick-up engine. Arched backs, curled toes. I feel you smile against the side of my neck, your lashes fluttering against the curve of my jaw I...

Give in.
Your arms locked around my waist, holding me up in the water that surges powerful against us, entwined, buffeted by more than sea-salted surf. I melt. You melt. Together, my almost lover and once best friend. I rest my head against your shoulder, tasting the salt, sand, and sun on your skin. Your fingers were wild in my hair.

Fall head first...
The first three weeks vanish in the rear view mirror, caught up in you, caught up in me. Roll down the window, both oblivious to the map that flies out, snatched on fingers of the wind. No direction. We just drive. Fast. Forward.

Hearts first.
Side-by-side, we watch the sky overhead. I search for ghosts. I smile pointing heavenward and make a wish. Your fingers brushed lightly the inside of my wrist. Crafty. Sneaky. And fasten something in place. I eye the gold glitter. In the center of the chain, two hearts entwined. Rain forms in the corner of my eyes, fingers touching the hearts, our names engraved
You asked, "Did I make you sad?"
And, I reply...

No questions.
A request you granted. Words were weighted. Things that got in the way of wicked wants. We were supposed to be making pancakes. The batter's on the floor, milk carton tipped, leaking precious liquid your cat lovingly laps at our feet. Like you against the hollow of my throat...

Can't get enough.
The summer goes by too quickly. Can't we stay? Don't want to go back. Want to stay locked in liking, loving - loving the enemy turned almost lover.

Blinded by this newfound love...
Reality tiptoes through the back door as life begins anew. New places. New faces. Our worlds expand. Our past creeps in. Fingers pointed, voices loud, we take up our wands of warding...

We stumble.
In anger, I was safe, In your arms, vulnerable. Facing-off, fingers pointed, pulses race, feeling raw. I eye you sullenly, hearts blood trickling to the floor. Rain gathers in the corners of my eyes. Throwing up our hands we turn and...

Fall.
Knees hitting the floor in unison, we scream. Your handsome visage, stony. Pride prevents apology. We stare quietly - your cold exterior hardens my heart. Statuesque, we can't breathe.

And what happened so fast...
We look away lost. Connection broke. Weighted words logged in the back of our minds, stuck in the back of our throats. We're making skeletons, too many for our closet to hold.
"What happened to us?" You ask.

We sit back and wonder...
Where did we go wrong? What scared us? When did fear form? When did jealousy jerk our chain? Was it just a summer spell? When did addiction end?

Did we happen at all?
Can't look. We stare at the wall - anything but at each other.

This pain...
It has no end. The more we touch, the deeper it grows. Tortured touch, vacant stare. I'm looking through you, you're looking through me. We go through the motions in hopes of finding a spark. Something, anything to fan into a flame.

Hearts in hand...
Lay it on the line. Storms gather. Rain falls. Pulses race, what began as apology turns to anger, then rage. Lash out. Lacerate. Shattered glass. Broken door. Rage blows past us in an unedited rush, leaving us both broken in its wake.

He's on the other side of the room.
Silent. Fists clenched, angry, knuckles raw. He eyes her across the room, equally broken down. Bravado spent. Silent sobs. Stay or leave...the question rises. Shaking his head, he turns and closes the door. And...

She's silent, surrounded by friends who say he's better off dead.

Stay or leave...
We eye each other across the restaurant, too choked to speak. It's been ten years. You stay on your half of the hall, I'll stay on mine. This is how I hate you...hate that every beat of my heart still wants - needs - to be drunk on you.

It's called falling in love...
It's always fast...
Euphoric...
A natural high.
Surrender.
Give In.
Fall head first...
Heart first.
No questions.
Can't get enough.
Blinded by this newfound love...
We stumble.
Fall.
And what happene so fast...
We sit back and wonder...
Did we happen at all?
This pain...
Hearts in hand...
He's on the other side of the room...
She's silent, surrounded by friends who says he's better off dead.

* * *

I tuck our photo back between these pages in my journal. You and I now a lifetime ago, where in my minds eye we both suffered a serious case of food poisoning. An episode of which I may never speak or 'dish' aloud in human company, but one that I'll never forget.