worth the risk

I took a chance, and it didn't work out... But I'm not sorry. So many laughs and inside jokes, excellent conversations, sweet memories, insights into myself. New perspectives, new friends, new experiences. And all in such a short span of time. What a gift.

I have no regrets. Not for a second.

:(

Well, it's over.

If he was an asshole this would be so much easier. But he's not. He's pretty great. And we were pretty great together. And oh, I hate this! I hate this, I hate this. And I am sad. And angry. And frustrated. And disappointed, and weary, and confused.

Fortunately, however, all you have to do to win at life is get up more times than you fall down.

So. Here we go.

(Again.)

hush, hush, shhh

I think I will never have too much of the sound of the wind and the sea.
It reaches me in a way nothing else can.

----------

Not quite sure what's going to happen with S. It's not over yet, but it might be soon. I spent the weekend at the beach to distract myself from the fact that we decided to not speak for a few days, while we think things through.

It's been a really hard week. I don't know if we can bounce back or not. And I was right: it hurts. Even the not knowing hurts a lot. But this is what you open yourself up to, when you let yourself love someone.

I'm obsessing about it, even though I shouldn't. I can't help myself.

Or don't want to.

Either way.

----------

Hush, hush, says the ocean. Shhhh...

if you'll let me

relationships are hard

*sigh*

pointy, sharp

I think everyone has their pointy bits, but I think every so often we come across people soft bits first, and that's why we like them, and that's how they become our friends or lovers. Their pointy bits don't touch us except for maybe once in a great while, and then never on purpose, so we forgive them easily. And other people come at you pointy bits first, or they are just all over pointy, and you don't ever want to interact with those people again, and they are definitely NOT your friends... Unless you're really messed up and you only know how to be stabbed and jabbed, or think you deserve to be stabbed and jabbed, in which case you have an entirely different set of problems.

should have known better

FB is an emotional minefield today.
What the fuck was I thinking?

safe

Safety is only ever a feeling really, if we're being honest. I mean, I'm sure you might very well be perfectly safe for moments and hours and days at a time... but there's no way of knowing for sure. Which moments you were out of the way of any danger whatsoever and which, had they gone the slightest bit differently, could have cost you your life. Until they do.

Anything could happen, literally any thing, at any given moment. You could be alone in a padded room with the cleanest air and water and the healthiest food and the perfect amount of natural light and some freak of genetics could stop your heart or send a blood clot to your brain and you're done for. Or your cells could stop multiplying, for no particular reason, before you're even born. Or the earth could simply crack open one day and swallow you whole. Who knows.

When I was little, no one was looking out for me. The world was dangerous because not only did Bad Things happen but no one else cared when they did. So I learned that it was entirely up to me to watch out for myself. If I was tired, or scared, or distracted by any other thing, I wasn't going to do a very good job, but it was no one's concern but mine, and I might as well be resigned to the fact.

So personally, whenever another person shows any kind of interest in my well-being, no matter how briefly, it comes as a huge relief. Perhaps I can do this after all. With a little bit of help.

Perhaps, for now, I might be safe.

♥

Happy Birthday, Lissie-Doll. Mama loves you.

your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear

the weaker sex

I woke up at 5:00am from a horrible nightmare. Blinking in the half-light of early morning, I wished fervently that S was lying next to me, so I could simply grab onto him and feel grounded again. But I was at home, and alone, and had to find my own way back to reality. I rolled onto my stomach and opened the shutters above my bed, trying to remember to take deep breaths, and watched sunrise slide across the front yard, the sidewalk, the roses.

Don't be afraid of shadows. It only means a light is shining somewhere. Don't be afraid of shadows. It only means a light is shining somewhere. Don't be afraid of shadows. It only means a light is shining somewhere. Don't be afraid of shadows...

This was not as comforting as I hoped.

A whole murder of crows descended upon the neighbor's evergreen, their grating voices drowning out the cheerful robins that perch in the cherry tree outside my window, and I found I was deeply irritated by their brazenness. But they don't know or care what I think -- which only brings me back to the root of all my horrors. That innocent and lovely can be so quickly overpowered by selfish and loud.

----------

I am getting ready to move into my own place, with no roommates. And I'm scared. I wasn't before, but after the dream I had, I am now. The world is still not safe for women, not anywhere, no matter how liberated or equal anyone tries to say we are. It breaks my heart.

Sometimes I think I don't need to be scared, and other times I wonder if I am not scared enough. In my dream, I came home to find my apartment ransacked, and was then beaten and assaulted by the intruder. My brain was unfortunately able to supply many grisly details from memory.

I should not be so foolish as to think that there is a cap on Bad Things. There isn't one. There's no scorekeeper, no limit. I just don't know if I can survive another Bad Thing. I think one more attack would break me. And while there's no reason to think it will happen again, there's no reason to think it won't, either. I don't want fear to rule my life, but after all that's happened to me I have no excuse for naiveté.

I feel safe with S, every minute we're together. When I stay at his house, not only is he there to protect me, I also have the dubious reassurance of knowing that the gun he taught me to use is lying heavy and formidable in the nightstand drawer. I always hated the thought of shooting someone, even non-fatally, regardless of the circumstances. But today, for the first time, it crossed my mind that maybe I could do it. Because if it came down to it, and it could only be them or me -- I'd choose me.

I can't afford to be broken. Not after I've come so far.

omg you guys

Did I mention that I have a boyfriend? Because I totally do.