This Is My Closet

The cat’s thin body slinked along the mantle, weaving in between portraits of a
smiling family, now unrecognizable; the most recent being from 5 years ago. A
noise in the distant spooked him from his trance, a flick of the tail sending
one of the portraits flying. Shattered on the floor, amidst a dust collected
from weeks of “lazy days,” my eyes stared out. They were blank then, red from
crying just minutes before the flash of the camera. I didn’t know it then, but
that was my closet. I hid in it well, locked inside myself. No one had a
clue.

Possibly the best story I've ever written. I don't want to post the whole thing just yet. Maybe when it's finished.

Here's to the girls...

Here's to all those girls who used to be his number one. The ones who waited all night for him to call, only to check the caller ID the next morning and be disappointed. The ones who made it through that bitter break up, dried your own tears, and moved on with your life, only to have him walk back in it months later like nothing ever happened. Those of you who cried on the first day you talked again because you knew exactly where this phone call was going. The ones who listened to him say, I only want to be your friend, one day, and the next, listened to him say how much he loves and misses you. We deserve something, and this is our tribute.Here's to the ones that took him back, hoping that maybe this time, he was different, hoping that maybe people really do change. We listened to our friends tell us that we were stupid for even thinking about giving him another chance, caught crap from our parents, and even snuck around to see him for while. We went through the great stage with no fights all over again. We started this out thinking it would be just friends, and ended up falling in love with him again. We wanted nothing more in the world than to hear him tell us he loved us too, that even though things were bad in the past, they would be DIFFERENT this time. And when we finally heard it, it was like we were dreaming. This is for us. Here's to the ones who believed what he said, sat around all over again waiting for a phone call that might come in a few hours, or a few days. Here's for the tears cried and dried all over again. We wanted so desperately to believe that he was really busy, he couldn't possibly call us at that moment, or even that he fell asleep early. We trained ourselves to believe the lies because we wanted to believe we had found the one for us. We learned to SETTLE for someone who didn't treat us the way we should be treated. Here's for the ones who did their hair and make up only to hear him say that he couldn't see us today. The ones who never believed it when people told us there might be someone else. We just couldn't believe that he could do this to us again. This is for those great girls, who loved him more than words can say, and took him back no matter what happened last time because they couldn't bear to look back on their lives one day and wonder "what if". This is for the ones that held on to something that was never there to begin with. This is for us girls, who somehow managed to get him to tell us that he was in love with us again, only to have him tell us three weeks later that "things were going too fast, he needs time." Here's to the girls who couldn't cry to their friends because of how stupid they felt. The ones who held it all in when things came crumbling to pieces again. The ones that could just TELL that they had made a mistake ever allowing him into their hearts, and their dreams again. We knew that we deserved better the entire time, that we deserved a guy who would call when he said he was going to, one that would come see us whenever he got the chance, one that would REALLY care about us. We just wanted the one that we loved like that. Here's for the ones that FINALLY realized that he never gave a crap about them. Here's for the time that he broke your heart again. This is for those days spent trying to hold back the tears, and the tears that turned into anger, then disappointment. Here's for us girls who finally realized that we deserve better. Stay strong, and remember that relationships are like broken glass, sometimes it's better to leave it alone rather than try to put the pieces back together and get hurt. Remember the times you cried, and how long it took you to even be able to look at another guy like that. When "your song" comes on the radio, turn the station. When the day comes that he realizes what a mistake he made and tries calling, turn your phone off. When he tries coming to your house, don't answer the door. Think of the broken promises, and the lies, the manipulation and the tears, the wasted moments and staying up all night wondering where the hell he was. Think of how your heart used to jump when your phone would vibrate in the middle of the night, and how it fell to your stomach when you saw it wasn't him, and realized that once again, he hadn't called when he said he was going to. This is for those girls, who fell back in love with a guy, only to get HURT all over again...

Dear Past, Sincerely Me

I hate to do this after all we've been through together, but I really must let you go. The glances over the counter, the inevitable tears on the drive home, the urge to read their blogs/comments/twitter. It all must go. This rumbling in my stomach from all their hateful words gets tiring. I'm not who I was when I held you close, but no matter how much I let you go, you still remain. It's time for you to leave. I'm not who you seem to think I am. Thanks for all you've taught me, like not to love or trust, it got me through high school with a beating heart. I think I'm ready to move on from all that though. I've started to see where your teachings are wrong. Just because he couldn't love me like a daddy is supposed to doesn't mean there's something fatally wrong with me. Just because he couldn't stay faithful doesn't mean it's okay for me to cheat as well. Just because my friends treated me like dirt doesn't mean that's what I am. Now, I know what you're going to say, I did this all to myself. Well, yes, I stuck on this path you led me down for far too long. I'd rather the forest over this. So this is goodbye and please don't come back. Things would never work between us.

A Little Late for New Year Resolutions

I've never been one to do things on time--if I remember to do them at all--especially if it's not concerning school work. Better late than never though. So here is my month late list of New Year Resolutions:

.:. Find a balance of OCD and chaos
.:. Get my website up and running--and actually remember to update it
.:. Decide on a major and stick with it
.:. Discover what the method to my madness actually is
.:. And my number one, that I decide I'm going to do every week: GET ORGANIZED! It might help my memory.

Well, there it is. A month late and bit half-hearted.

Restless

Rearranging the furniture doesn't change anything. It's how I knew we were ending. More restless than ever. I think he got sick of my routine. I'm still trying to explain it to myself. Every flaw I find is a possible reason he left me. I heard his voice for the first time in a while. How could I forget. The subtle inflections is what made me fell. I'm sick of this routine too.

Where I Stood.

The smell of the food next to me makes me nauseous. I eat too much. Then there are months when I don't eat enough. (I secretly prefer those months.) After all, nothing tastes as good as thin feels. Maybe I am falling apart. I think I've been here before. You know that saying "never let them see you cry"? Well, what do you know, the moment I let the floodgates go she pulls up next to me. Or maybe I pulled up next to her. Either way, I lost. The tears and this heartbreak won. You have to wonder how good of friends they were in the first place, if rumors could take them away from me. Not even with a fight. The bracelet on my wrist tells me I can't be that terrible. It's impossible to walk through RiverPark without smiling faces. Just not the faces I used to know. Maybe I like these faces more. Maybe I'll never show my face in that haunted place again. I should've stopped going when everywhere I looked was a memory of David. I should've left long ago. I shouldn't let them get to me like this. There are so many things I'm afraid to say. Should I anyway? Should I reveal to the world the amazing feeling I get throwing up a day of binging? Should I tell them all how badly I want to run away sometimes? Should I slyly mention that I think I found the one? I spend so much time at Borders because I can pretend their smiling and laughing because they're my friends, not just because we work together. I can almost convince myself that the regulars come to talk to me, not just for the coffee. I used to like the idea of "just sex." Luke and I started that way. We never thought feelings would get involved, but sure enough by Thanksgiving break we were baring our souls to each other. Needless to say the sex never happened. He conveniently lost my number. Now the idea haunts me. I'm so terrified that just when I'm willing to open up, it will all fall apart again. He told me the sex wasn't even that good. A part of me always knew that's why he left. I hope he finds better. I hope she loves him more than I could. On second thought, I don't. But I don't wish bad on him either. "She who dares to stand where I stood." It wouldn't be hard to replace me. I'm a constant mistake and maybe I'll never get better, but someone still loves me. I told him the truth and the look in his eyes said it all. God, I think I found him. Now how do I tell him I'm moving? I'm leaving. Far away. Not just a few hours. Not an afternoon drive. I shouldn't get my hopes up. We probably wouldn't last anyways. Not with that distance. But it's my dream, my passion. I won't give that up. I will never again say "sure, San Francisco is just fine. Don't worry. I never had any plans." This time, I matter too. And who knows, maybe I will write for Popular Science. Maybe I will write an article about my baby--the first magician in outer space. Maybe.

Ghosts of the Past

What scares me the most is not that he's back in town. It's not that he knows where I work. It's not the long walk to my car in the middle of the night. It's that when he walks by me, he laughs. He shows no remorse. He's not sorry. He doesn't regret it. He looks at me like he knows every inch of me that I hide under these many layers. And he does. Despite the darkness he came shrouded in. Despite my attempts to hold onto my clothes. Despite the fight I put up. He does. He's seen every inch of me, felt every inch of me. He's not sorry. He'll never be sorry. And he knows I could never prove a thing. You can see it when he looks at me. You can hear it in his laugh.