Replay

I met you five years ago today. I was certain, that on that night, that you were the most wonderful man I had ever met and that we were going to be In Love and Get Married and Live Happily Ever After. Ahem.

Obviously, none of those things even remotely happened, and the reality of the situation is that I was a slightly buzzed nineteen-year-old, and you were a drunk, lost and confused twenty-one-year-old. We were two desperately lonely people looking for comfort in an environment ill-suited for anything other than getting drunk on cheap beer.

But it meant something to me. It really did. Those years I spent loving you had a really profound impact on my life. And regardless of how I feel now, they're are irrevocably etched into my brain. I wouldn't take them back. I spent so many years wishing and hoping and praying that something, anything, any miracle of any kind would bring you back to me that I could probably literally add years onto my life.

Nothing ever happened.

I understand now that was for a reason. I've said before that when something is right in your life, all the pain and wrong makes sense. Well, it all makes sense now. It was preparing me to be a stronger person for him.

He is wonderful. He is truly the other half of my heart. I would be lost without him. He completes me in a way that I never realized was possible; a part of me that I didn't even know I was missing until he came along. We fit together like puzzle pieces. He is, to borrow a line from Twilight (I know), everything I never knew I needed and everything I would have asked for, had I knew myself well enough to know what I needed. We operate like a well-oiled machine. We take care of each other, when one is down, the other is up, doing everything in their power to make sure the other gets what they need. I used to think that the person who was right for me would make me feel so at peace. But instead, he energizes me, he makes me excited to wake up in the morning, excited to conquer life's next adventure, because I know, that from now until forever, he is by my side to take on the world with me. He is my equal, my lover, my partner in crime, my teammate, my best friend. Everything is possible when we have each other. 

So that's why today, on the day I met you five (FIVE!) years ago, I'm not nostalgic. I'm not wispy and weepy and sad. I'm happy. I'm happier than I've ever been in my entire life. And I'm thankful. Thankful that I DID meet you on that cold October night, because if I hadn't, then I wouldn't be who I am today. I wouldn't be the strong, confident, secure woman I am now, who will someday be his wife.

I want you to know I'm great, I'm wonderful. I'm happy and (mostly) healthy. That I'm going to change the world and be a beautiful bride and that I still like bacon on my Jimmy John's sandwiches. That I still stay up late and still wear that perfume you hated. That I don't drive a Jeep anymore, that I still don't like beer, and that I'll never, ever, ever, not for one minute, ever give up on my dreams and NEVER quit being true to myself.

I can almost see her now, that sorority girl in jeans and boots, freezing her ass off in the rain. I want to tell her to have fun, and that everything will be so much better someday. That the best years of her life haven't even begun yet. That you've got to slog through the muddy waters to get to the sunshine and rainbows.

I hope to see you again someday, my friend. I'll have a new last name by then, and a new life, but I'll still be the same old girl with a big heart and even bigger dreams.

This Kind of Love

There's never been a doubt in my mind that you were "the one." From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew. I knew you were the one I was meant to be with. There were no words spoken or gestures made, but all it took was one glance and I was yours.

I'd heard every cliché that existed about love at first site but of course never believed them. But each and every last one of them is true. The earth moves and there are fireworks and everything in the room stops and freezes except for that one person. Suddenly everything makes sense. People come and go throughout your life. They're like balloons anchoring you to the ground. You cut the string of one, it floats away forever. Some loose helium. Some stay strong. They all eventually deflate. Meeting "the one" is like someone cutting all of those balloons at once and replacing it with just one tie; something much stronger. Like you know, a steel cable. That's what happened when I met you. All of the people in my life who had hurt me, let me down, made me cry or ache or caused me pain in any way, I just let them all go. One by one, snip, snip, snip. All of those balloons floated away to someplace where I'd never see them again. The thing holding me to earth was you. My steel tie. A strong, steady Cable.

I could have told you I loved you that very night. Because I did. Maybe not as much as today, or a week after that, or 20 years from now, but I loved you.

And because I love you so much, I want to be the best person I possibly can for you. But the reality is, I'm not always happy. I have good days and bad days, and sometimes I'm sad for no reason. I've explained this to you and it makes no difference. You love me regardless.

But I don't think you quite understand. It doesn't matter if I'm mad, sad, angry, anything, you always make me happier. And you don't do anything. Well, not consciously anyways. I can be brooding, but you always bring me out of that state. Your unconditional love melts the sometimes chilly front I put up. I don't know what it is and I can't explain it either, but you can defrost me in a way no one else can. I love you for that so much more than you'll ever understand.

But everyone has that one moment where they just knew. They knew for absolutely certain that the person they're with is the one; whom they're supposed to be with forever. As I said, I've known from day one, but tonight was my moment. Tonight I knew and it was a crazy, gooey warm feeling that I felt from the top of my head to the bottom of my toes and back again.

We were dancing, to what song I can't remember, and the whole world just melted away. As we revolved slowly on the spot, you held me close to you and I nestled into your chest. We fit together like two halves of a whole. I closed my eyes and that's when I could see it.

You and I, on a dance floor. In that very position we were dancing in then. Me in a wedding dress and you in a tuxedo. A glittering spotlight illuminates us, and all of our loved ones are watching, but we're the only two people who exist in the whole world at that moment.

"I love you," you whispered in my ear and then we're back to reality. In the living room, not at our wedding.

You smiled at me and that's when I realized-we were still going to be doing this 50 years from now. We are never going to need fancy dinners, or expensive gifts, or even television to be happy. All we needed is each other and maybe a little music.

You never think you're going to get that Hollywood movie love. And when you do, it catches you off guard and it can knock you off your feet. But if you're very lucky, as I am, you'll have that Cable that keeps you grounded. And that's all I'll ever need ❤

The World Inside My Head

When you look at me, I get this...warm, gooey, chocolatey feeling....like melted caramel fudge, only deep in my chest, deep down In my heart. It literally warms my body from the inside out, it makes my fingertips vibrate and it makes me stand on my tiptoes, almost like I could fly. My heart beats so fast I'm afraid it'll beat right out of my chest. I can't help but smile. I get nervous and clumsy and awkward and I forget the words I want to say. I live for those few moments when we walk next to each other, because I can imagine taking those and so many more steps by your side. I want to be in our own little world together, just you and I. I want to know what you smell like, and what your skin, your hands, your lips feel like. I want you to wrap me up in your arms and curl your body around mine; envelop me with your warmth. I want to get lost in you. But that's a fool's fuckin' dream, so that's just what I'll do now. Nighters.

One Finger on the Trigger

Dear friend,

I think about you a lot. I don't know why. But you're on my mind often. Sometimes I'll see something that reminds me of you, or other times something will just float to the front of my memory, like your hair or the color of your eyes or something weird like that. I wish this didn't happen.

This spot I'm in right now, I call it my little slice of heaven. It's a safe place, because I know you'd be mad if I went any further. You know what I wish? That there was a swing out here. The old-fashioned kind, with a wood plank as the seat and real rope for the rope part. The kind that gave your hand merciless blisters when you were a kid.

I think my happiest memories from when I was a child are when someone was pushing me on a swing. Or when I was swinging alone. I had a swing set that my dad built for me when I was 5. It was a wood frame swing set with monkey bars, two yellow swings and a free swinging trapeze. It also had a knotted rope to climb, and a blue wavy slide. My dad would re-stain it every summer with this reddish-brown stain that smelled good in a weird way. That was the official start of summer for me, when the swing set was put back together and ready to go. I spent countless hours of my life there. I would hang off of the trapeze bars and put the hose on the slide so it became a water slide. Sometimes I would put the slip n slide at the bottom of the slide, and it was almost like I had my own mini water park. Sometimes at night, I would climb up on top of the monkey bars so I was on the very top of the swing set and read a book, or just sit there. That's the first time I can remember that feeling of being in my own little world. But the best part was the swings.They were banana yellow, rubber curved swings that hung from nylon fiber ropes. I had blisters that wouldn't go away for months from those swings. But oh, how I loved them. I would swing for hours and hours. Sometimes I would wake up very early in the morning and go outside and swing in my pjs. You can really lose yourself in the moment swinging. It feels like you're flying. I still love to swing to this day. Maybe that's why I like playgrounds so much; I go there and swing, and I can remember a time in my life when I didn't have problems bigger than I could manage. I can close my eyes and pretend I'm flying away from the earth, leaping out of the swing and floating on towards space.

I don't have that swing set anymore. My parents sold it to a very nice couple with a little daughter when I was fourteen. They carefully wrapped the swings and rope and trapeze bar up and put them in boxes, then that nice man and his wife rented a flatbed truck and hauled the frame away. My parents planted a garden over the spot where the swing set sat, because all the grass was dead around it. I can remember standing on the porch when they were hauling it away, picking up the frame and carrying it away, out of my life forever. I've never cried so hard at the loss of one of my childhood toys. For the first time ever, I understood the meaning of the phrase “losing your innocence.”

I never knew their names, the people who bought the swing set. Their little girl had brown hair and was full of energy just like I was at that age. I hope the swing set brought her just as much joy as it did me. I wonder if she flipped upside down on the trapeze bar like I did, or if she sat on top of the monkey bars and wondered what it would be like to visit space, as I did. I wonder if she swung so high that she was afraid she'd flip right over the top, like I sometimes did. I wonder if she ever closed her eyes and just swung back and forth and back and forth, letting it lull away the world like I did everyday. And I wonder if her parents sold the swing set to another family. I wonder if they packed it up and carried it away, let another family have it like ours did for her. I wonder if she cried when the swing set left her life, or whether she just simply outgrew it. Maybe her parents tore it down and turned it into firewood when she became more interested in cars and boys and phone calls. Maybe the swings started to rot, and the slide started to crack. Maybe the stain job my dad had so lovingly kept up for ten years started to chip and fade from the sun. I hope not. I hope it went on to make another child happy. I hope it's still living, maybe in its fourth or fifth home, still making children feel like they're flying or like they're sitting on top of the world.

I want to tell that girl, and all the children who think they've outgrown childhood, to just slow down. Because one day you're going to look back and miss those simple times. When you have bills and taxes and babies and a mortgage, you're going to wish life was just as easy as taking off your pj pants and putting on shorts and running outside to play. You're going to miss that strong, sturdy swing set. You're going to know too much; you're going to be too jaded. I want to tell kids to savor those times before their hearts have been broken and they find out that all people aren't nice. It's a different experience when you sit on a swing now as an adult. You smile because you're nostalgic, and because you're sad. Sad because you know now that the world is a much different place than when you were young. Sadness for the kids who are kids in the present, because one day they will be you, an adult sitting on a swing, sad because kids don't realize how pure and innocent and wonderful they are. They have zero knowledge of the world that awaits them; they're carefree and nothing bothers them. Parents and adults really do a good job of hiding this cruel reality from children; when you finally realize what an ugly place the world can be, it's a shock.

Sometimes when I'm in bed at night, I wish I could be little again, just for one day. I could eat shitty, sugary cereal for breakfast, and a grilled cheese for lunch. I wouldn't have to worry about calories or saturated transfats or clothes not fitting right. My mom could pick out my outfit and fix my hair, and I could go play outside until the sun set and the mosquitos started to eat me alive. I could write on the driveway with colored chalk and make water balloons and drink water straight out of the hose. And after I scrubbed the dirt off of my feet in the bath at night, I would fall into bed, exhausted. No nightmares would haunt me; I would fall straight to sleep and get a full eight hours, to be ready to play all over again the next day.

But the world doesn't work that way. Everything becomes increasingly complicated. But maybe that's why we have our carefree childhoods full of imagination and play, to remind us that life is constant and ever-changing, and the every day will be a harder challenge than the one that came before it. I see that quote a lot, the one that goes "no one said it was going to be easy, but they did say it would be worth it.”

Is it? Is it ultimately worth it? People work their asses off their entire lives for such little payoff. We're told that if we work hard, do everything right, then we'll be rewarded. From a young age, we're spoon-fed this Nora Ephron, rom-com, glittery, fluffy bullshit that if we just sit around and look pretty enough, then we'll get everything we've ever wanted. Love, money, house, in short, the mythical “American dream.”

I know you don't believe in any of that. I know you don't believe in any of that shit, like karma or serendipity or destinies, none of that Hallmarky, new age, Lifetime Television for Women crap. You're sensible and practical. While I look for phrases and meanings to define what's happened to me, you simply accept your fate and move on.

I don't really know where I was going with this. Sometimes I think of things I want to say to you, but then I remember that we aren't friends like we used to be anymore and I can't just text you random things out of the blue. Sometimes I feel like you're up on a shelf looking down at me, not helping while I struggle to get up there with you. We used to be sitting on the same shelf, looking each other in the eyes.

Sometimes I look at your eyes and wonder why I never noticed how beautiful the color was before. Why I never noticed how soft the skin on your cheeks was, or why I never noticed what a good driver you are. I realized everything far too late.

I wish I could press rewind. But I know I can't. And I'm crying now, but not because I can't fix my mistakes, but because what I want more than anything in the world is for you to be sitting right here with me, right now. I want a real hug, not the forced kind you've been giving me lately. I want to press my forehead into your neck and smell you and hug you tight, and I want you to make everything go away, just for a little bit. I want you to tell me my eyes are beautiful because you're the only person who has ever told me that. I want you to tell me that my hair smells nice, and my perfume makes you think of me, just like you always used to. I'm crying these hot, awful tears because I would give absolutely anything to go back to those days.

Sometimes if I close my eyes, I can pretend, like when I was little. I close my eyes and pretend you are here. The old you. You ask if I'm cold, then tell me I need to get to bed. You would walk me all the way back up to my door. I would tell you bye, and we'll talk later. Then we'd both sleep. And I could dream.

So Goodnight, friend. Love you, friend.

Always, me

Heaven in the Morning

They say that the night is darkest just before the dawn.

And it's true, it is. The night is inky, fathoms deep black, then suddenly you look up, and there's just a splash of yellow on the horizon. All of the birds start chirping and with every passing minute, it gets lighter and lighter. The sky turns to a cerulean blue slowly, an the air becomes a little chillier. You can see the mist beginning to settle over the grass as the landscape comes into clearer focus. The cars passing on the street start to become a little more frequent. The globe is slowly revolving and turning into a new day, reminding us we should do the same.

I'm observing this now as we speak, watching the night morph into the morning. The sun will rise here at approximately 6:16 AM, Eastern Standard Time.

I sit up and straighten my back, listening to the gazillion bones in my spinal column crack and pop. Sometimes I sit hunched over for too long, and when I sit up and readjust, that feeling is wonderful. It reminds me that moving just a tiny bit can make all the difference.

No, I'm not going to connect the sun rising and my horrible posture to some grand metaphor about life. Well, not really. Just a mere commentary on the fact that I'm grateful to be alive, really. Every single sunset and sunrise I get to watch is something to behold. I can probably count on my two hands the number of times I've actually watched the sun rise. It's not something you put a whole lot of stock into until you're there, in the flesh, witnessing it happen with your own two eyes.

I can't really describe the feeling. It's like coming to your senses; coming out of a reverie. I'm usually just crawling into bed at this point. I love to be awake in the dead of the night. Nothing is the same as during the day. It's quiet in a different sort of way as when the sun is up. Everything is very still and peaceful. You can hear things you normally don't hear during daylight, like air conditioners running, crickets chirping, and frogs croaking. Of course you can hear those things during the day, but they're the only soundtrack at night. You can hear the sound of your own footsteps very clearly; the sounds are so much more visceral, so much brighter. I feel like I'm the only person in the world at night, when I'm alone, with only my thoughts for company.

The world is in a frenzied state, we're very hurried and hassled in today's world, we can't get from point A to B fast enough. We're constantly looking for a faster route, a more efficient this, a quicker that. We don't slow down until our exhausted, overloaded heads hit the pillow. Everyone is in such a constant state of needing more faster, that sleep is a welcome token; a reprieve from the breakneck speeds we insist on living our lives at.

Sleep is my enemy. I love the night, but the real reason behind me staying up when the rest of the world is in the Land of Nod is the nightmares. The horrible nightmares. They're quick, just a flash, but it's like a CD stuck on a certain part of the song, playing on repeat. I see it over and over and over again. I feel it with my body. I wake up, jolted, as though the car crashes I dream about have really happened. I force myself to stay awake to the point of being so tired that I instantly fall into a deep slumber, completely skipping the dreaming part. It usually works. But every once in a while, they'll slip onto my daydreams as if to remind me that they're never too far off, filed away in my dream memory bank.

I want them to stop. I wish they would go away, but they have me in an iron, vice-like grip. My body shakes constantly, terrified of the horrors my mind has in store for it. I can't keep doing this. My solution is a temporary one. Coffee staves off the sleep but I can't keep going like this. I just want to be released from these mental terrors that haunt me every day of my life.

It's 5:57 AM. My ass is frozen from the slab of concrete I'm currently perched on and I need just a small amount of sleep to get me through this long day. I need a hot shower and warm blankets. Even though I do my best to avoid the bed, I still need it every so often.

I'm heading back now. I wanted to watch the sun rise, but I can sense its my time to leave here, my little slice of heaven. Because once the sun is fully in the sky, it's not mine anymore. It's just a wall. So I leave now and I'll be back tomorrow when it's all mine again and the world is still once more.

Goodbye for now.

All Those Fairy Tales Are Full of Shit

You asked me to let you know how I feel, so here it goes.

I'm hurting. I'm broken. I've never felt so hurt and alone and upset in my life. I feel as though something inside of me has died, and I can't stop crying.

My heart is in too many pieces to count. I feel as though you've taken your gun and shot me, straight in the chest. I don't know when or how I will heal, but I'm just going to close my eyes and try to get through tonight.

You are my refuge. When the world stops turning, I cling to you. When my heart hurts, you make it better. When I'm scared and alone and vulnerable, you're there to protect me. When I frown, you make me smile. When I'm not sure I can go on, you're there to hold my hand and make sure I get through one more day. When my body hurts as much as my heart does, you're there with your hand on that spot on my neck rubbing away all of my hurts and aches.

I trust you above all people in this world. And now you're the one who has broken me. What do I do now? I try and turn to you but you hold me at arms' length with cold indifference.

So she beat me to the punch. I can't compete with 12 years. I can't compete with her and I don't want to. It hurts too much to not be good enough for you. I don't want to think about that.

I want to think about that first night I knew I had fallen for you. It was a long time ago. We were laying on my driveway and looking up at the stars, talking about everything under the moon. I heard a noise, and grabbed your hand in fright. You squeezed my fingers back and assured me everything was fine. I knew then that you'd always be there to protect me from whatever scared me, whether it be internal or otherwise. I knew when I was with you, nothing bad could happen. Safe and sound.

I want that back. I want to be that girl on that driveway again. I was younger, braver, less jaded. I didn't have quite so many reasons to hurt.

I'll leave you with this: I love you. I have for a very long time and I wish I would have told you sooner. I wish I would have known sooner, then maybe these tears blurring my eyes right now wouldn't be tears at all.

I'll be fine. I'll be ok. Don't worry about me.

If You Ask Me, I'm Ready

Things are a bit weird. School is over and I don't really know what to do with my free time. I bought a coloring book and maybe I'll get Netflix. Just kidding, just got Netflix. WOOHOO!

I'm in a bit of a weird place. This is happening, it's really happening. I don't have a name for it, or a rhyme or reason, but it's there and it exists and it's...wonderful.

I used to have a place, this place on the edge of my pillow that was my place of comfort, it was my refuge from the world. The covers pulled up around by neck, that was the place where no thing or person could harm me.

For so long now, I've been taking care of me and not letting anyone in to help me deal with my pain. It's so scary to imagine someone else being there for me to lean on. I'm so afraid that I'll  need them too much and I won't be able to give them enough in return.

There was once a bed, in a room with a window that moonlight shone through. There were sheets, and our bodies were wrapped up in them as we slept. That boy that lay there with me in that bed, I wanted him so badly. I wanted him so badly I would have gone to any lengths for him. I loved him so much I forgot to love myself. But I'm better now. That boy is a million miles away. I don't even know that girl anymore, that girl who loved him so much and was willing to give up so much for him. He is gone forever and so is she.


There's a new bed now, new sheets, in a new room. And there's a new spot. There is a different pair of arms to hold me, a pair of arms that feels so impossibly good. My ankles entwine with his and I bury my head in his chest and I forget about everything. I forget about everything but that bed and this boy who is holding me, keeping me warm and safe and sound. I forget there is a world outside that room, that there are cars and people and buildings and businesses beyond those four walls. I want to live in that moment forever.

I don't want to think about who I used to be in love with, or who he's in love with, or college or kids or graduating or when this will end, or if it will, or anything. For once in my life, all I want to think about is this very moment. I don't want to think about anything else. His skin pressed up against mine, my fingers through his hair, his hands touching parts of me I didn't ever want touched. But he is the one who pulled me through the fog. His hands belong in those long forbidden places. Wonderful sensations fill every part of my body, from head to my toes, and I think, this is how it should have been. This is what the first time is supposed to feel like. 

This has no ending because it's just beginning. This is only the start. But I'm ready.