So, last year I believed I would be married next week...

I finally voiced that, out loud for the first time to anyone but you

It looks so naive, so foolish now... to believe. 

But I think some time I'll be healing

That aside... I'm starting to stop blaming everything but you for why you left.

You left me because you wanted to.

If someone wants something they won't look for an excuse

From now on...

I don't blame my  best friend 

I don't blame your best friend

I don't blame my Grandmother

I don't blame my Brother 

I don't blame my Father

I don't blame your Mother 

& I won't blame your Father

No matter what the circumstances surrounding us

No matter what the people surrounding us said or did

No matter if I made mistakes, was afraid and unsure

No matter what your reasons where... and I may never know

One thing I do know, you chose to make your choice

No outside circumstances can, at the end of the day 

be the thing we turn to when we need something to blame

No matter if every world we've known falls down around us

Even in the midst of this, we make the choice 

For commitment or freedom

Love of someone else or love of self

To stay or to walk away

This may cure me, finally seeing, nothing else is to blame

for your words, 

for your actions

for your choice

We just use those things we blame 

to work towards the escape we had planned anyway

Perhaps there is another kind of writing. I only know this one; in the night, when fear does not let me sleep. 

Frank Kafka

Good morning September, again

I woke up this morning from a dream about Peter Furler, not Phil Joel mind you, Peter Furler. I'm pretty sure it was a younger version of him, but just the same, why him?
He couldn't be less like the person that usually claims my dreams. But I'd rather dream about some Christian Music "has been" then waste dreams on things (people) I already know didn't think I was worth sharing dreams with. There I go again, slipping up... I'm trying, I promise... I'm trying to not refer everything back to him, not to rehash what happened last year, not to start hurting every few minutes. I'm trying not to let self pity make you hear one more story of my broken heart. I'm trying....

Every day I look at myself in the mirror and force myself to get past every thought that's written on my face...
I make myself pull on my clothes & close the bedroom door. I look out the window as I head down the stairs and I act like the changing of the seasons is mine today, not tethered to a memory.
 I eat breakfast acting like I'm not thinking of your favorite foods and how I was learning to make them.  The calender says September and I force myself to remember it's almost always been my favorite month. 

I try to shove myself into work with the same passion I've always had, but the passion now only applies to the work on the desk and...wait, I would be lying to day that I don't have passion for my work, for the things I have spent my life learning to care about. I am devoted to changing something about this world, just enough to maybe allow someone else to re-think their ways of coping with the same pain's I know. If anything, that is one thing I am more sure of than before, I know now more than I ever have, that I do care about what I'm doing with my life.

So to say I'm trying is more than fair... I'm trying to be a better person, most times. I know more strongly than ever what I'm passionate about, I know I'm passionate about it because I'm willing to sacrifice greatly for it.  I know I will get better someday because even though last night was a sequence of memories of you everywhere I turned, this morning I got up again, I didn't starve myself, I didn't cry, I haven't walked away and though I'm not always sure who I am right now, I know I must be someone, because I didn't lose myself in you.

How is it the ones who least deserve it often get the most...
Tears, time, effort, regret
And the ones who may deserve a little more spend so much on them.

That's my deep thought for today...
Other than that, aside from work I'm focused on drinking water, getting back in shape, telling my sister what I want on this birthday list she's making for me and making homemade peach ice cream.

Tell me you think the second paragraph deserves more time & heart than the first...

untitled, unhealing, unforgiveness

I may have a mild concussion or maybe I don't, 
either way my head hurts.
I smacked it against a wall, hard. 
I think my head feels maybe one one hundredth of the steady throbbing 
of my heart with the same barely visible bruising on the outer layer, 
but an unhealing wound beneath
Earlier today while I was working
I had something to write about, 
now I'm a bit of a mess with no easy clean up, 
no way to know if this is pain or if it's just unforgiveness 
of a person...
of a string of circumstance... 
or of self


That's not anything that I want to say, it's just a jumble beneath the skin of my forehead, 
it's just one beat out of thousands from my heart.
It's enough for tonight

An undetected peeling back of days

Today is predictably surer than tomorrow but only the past is sure
And even that...
Well, history repeats itself...As we spend most our time searching the re-run's for how we got here,
How we will repeat ourselves & the sin's of our Father's,
And by our Father's I mean the sin's of Adam, but mostly Eve.
Evening come's and mourning and the first day, always when we wake, no matter how deep a darkness from...
The day is almost always mostly new... except for what we bring to it in our hearts, in our pains & expectations
Wash off what you can, the dirty maybe, but keep the old
It makes you who you are, it probably makes you who you where meant to be,
It mostly makes you who you chose to be woven in and out of God's intricate lacing of days together making life

To blog or not to blog?

I think if I say anything at all I'll say far too much
I'd rather sit in silent hope, reassuring my fears that failed me only for a little while
I'd rather think what I feel & keep it private and composed in an unpublished notebook deep under my pillows
Some days it was worth it
Some days I know it isn't
I can't change a thing