Our guest bedroom ceiling caved in during a two day rain spell, and my most beloved possessions, these scrapbooks I made through high school and college, got water damaged. Things I cannot replace. Things I spent countless hours on.
They are still in one piece, but ink has bled, pages are sticking together, falling apart, some parts are lost.
You can’t take anything from this life with you when you go.
I can’t stop thinking about it. Looking at them, I see a fury and a passion that’s been so dormant lately. Life goes on, life gets a hold of you, and you have to carry on. And no one would blame me. I met a man, moved away from my whole world, had a child, and lost the time to sit and put to paper (or tumblr) what I can’t express, what I can’t process, in real time.
I’ve always been the sensitive type. I feel the world, amplified. In the beginning, I thought it was a good thing I wasn’t writing so much, I was finally happy! But I’ve been kidding myself. I’ve been robbing myself.
You see, I have this need, to write down the whole world. It’s never enough to just live my life. I’m terrified of not being able to remember it all in the end. That’s my version of hell. Living a whole life, overcoming it all, finding glory, only to have it robbed by the inability to remember any of it.
And this isn’t even where I wanted to go with this, but fuck it, it’s a start. I’m not going to be swallowed up by silence.
There’s no one that’s ever stood there, stead fast, with such conviction
while I stood there, at my worst.
No one but you.
There’s a love here that I need to put words down for, its the only way I know how to show myself, what you already know.
That love was easy, love was free. and we soaked it up like the summer sun when we first met. It was taboo for all of a second, because we knew this was forever.
Now I’m broken and in disrepair. So we wake up every morning, and you help me pick up the pieces. because this isn’t some fork in the road.
Love is the hand that’s there when you fall down. Love is staying
I’ve been somewhere, falling into nothingness
my life is moving along, with extraordinary events unfolding
and I’m in the back room somewhere. lying down, unable to shake this nothingness.
I believe everything they say now,
about the things that can take a hold of you,
for no reason,
and threaten to never let go.
and I’m in there, somewhere, screaming, I’m still me,
Reading bukowski in the sun
driving with the windows down,
laughing and smiling as my hair falls in your face when I kiss you.
I’m still here, somewhere, falling into nothingness.