Bottled Up Soldier.

I have a lot of practice.
I have mastered this fine art.
It bubbles up and I swallow it down.
Demons trying to escape are shot on the spot.
Sometimes I fail as a sniper,
And it all comes out.
Fast. Rapid. Racing.
And I just can't breath.
And I just can't sleep.
And I just can't slow it all down.
And I just can't stop thinking.
But I do stop. Stop short.
I let my guard off duty.
My inner weapons all detonate.
It's only as a last resort.
Those who witness look with pity.
"Must be all the whiskey" they say.
They scoff and walk away.

Anxiousness. Depression.
They are the enemy.
Not me.
But it is me.
Me attacking me.
It's not my fault!
Stop calling me a drunk.
Stop calling me delusional.
Stop pitying me.
Stop assuming you know me inside.
I need to find a way to win this war.
It's not for any of you to decide.
So scoff and walk away,
My past will stop attacking one day.

first contact in 8 years monday... first date thursday... first sleep over at my house.. thursday/friday morning... First sex? Friday early morning... First sleep over at his place? Friday... Best day out as a hand holding couple... Saturday.. Relationship change? Sunday. First time meeting one of his kids? Sunday... oh my.

fast... slick... and natural. I am going to love this man. I just know it.. the most real connection possible.

oh.my.lawd

It has been quite surreal the past few days... being in touch with a crush from 8 years ago... We immediately clicked... Before way back when... we made small talk in our own awkward ways... Now we are full on into each other. We fit like a glove... So much passion with each other... We could NOT keep our hands of each other at all... The sex was so out of this world... Eye contact... Whispered nothings... It was what I have been waiting for... something real... But not only is it real.. and it was instant. Now the day after I'm stuck being a dumb girl wondering when we will see each other again, and if he was being for real... over analyzing everything as a bipolar does. I know I am just super emotional because it is the 12 anniversary of my mother's passing. I miss her so much. I popped a xanax and started some sad music... waiting for the boy to text me... I am sprung on this guy and it scares me... idk how to explain what happened but just out of the blue i got all scared and freaked out... and i think it is because i am super over analyzer... also emotional due to other reasons. I think I'm going back to the old ways of FREAKING OUT over nothing. lol. He told me today how awesome we are and how well we fit "glove" and how well we "clicked" and he wasn't able to hang out with me tonight because of his kids... but was looking forward to it all day and is now bummed. so idk if I am just being a girl, allowing my other emotions to affect these ones too? WTF I HATE BEING A JUMBLED FUCKING MESS! It happens though. I guess the sadness and the weird ass instant click with this guy is just messing me the FUCK UP haha I am such a fuckass! ugh

.....

I am wide awake. Yet still walled in. Why be awake when you are in the dark about everything. I feel empty, and full at the same time. I am so confused. I have been in this past tense existence for so long. I know who I am half the time... the other half I am shocked. 

Wasted time isn't real. Nothing is wasted. Everything is a learning experience. We all must face it. Dwelling on the fact that you may or MAY not have "wasted" time with someone, something, or anything is pointless. So what... pick yourself up dust off your knees and move on. Right? Sounds easy enough. 

In one way this WHOLE thing has helped loosen the noose I have placed metaphorically around my neck. I held on to that feeling. The perceived feelings from another, I made it real in  my head. At night I'd dream and wish and hope for him. Where did that get me? Nowhere fast. At this point I get anxiety when he is near... but I haven't thought of him for quite some time in the twilight of my slumber. I may finally kick this habit. 

He was really quite mean. There is honesty... there is even BRUTAL honesty.. but what he did was just malicious. Fucking excruciating to endure. I have a complex about many things. I know I am responsible for falling for the bs, but it was his influence..... and that voice just will not cease... I'd give anything for that to be silenced.. I shall work on that...

My job is amazing. Karaoke hosting is amazing. I've made the best of friends. Everyone likes me, and I am always real. Always me. Never try to be anyone else.... I've come out of my shell.. I am known. People respect me. I have FANS.... People come to hear ME SING. I get paid to SING. So in my delusional world I have decided that my job makes me a professional musician even if that is just a delusion. :) It makes me feel invincible for those 6 hours each night I work.

I am rambling. I am all alone on a Friday night/ Saturday early morn, and all I can do is keep typing. I know how bad it is to hold on to the confusing/painful/wierd/random thoughts. I need to journal more, or do this. 

Music is healing. 

Moving in with my cousin has improved my mood ten fold.

Breaking up with him gave me freedom, and guilt.

Being single is no longer a sport. 

I love me.

nite.

In.SAN.ity

Speeding to oblivion again... Sugar cube barricade dissolved before my eyes.. The sticky film left over is sweet..
What I know, is what you know.. But they say I know more, and they know it too.. I don't see it... Any bit of light shining through the holes I poke is a strobe, not the sun... You can share without love a life of fullness... or can you?

Confused the brain, and strained the heart.. pumping sugar through my blood highways until I get sick... But I can't let it out all over you.. The clean up would leave a new mess.. Buy more sugar cubes.. Build up more bricks.. Can I keep up?

What the FUCK am I supposed to do now?? Oh my god what have I done.. I fear the sweetness turning to bitterness..  It could crystalize.. and then an ice queen would be staring back at me from the looking glass... I must apply heat.. I must melt the crystalline from the pipes before it's too late.. How?

Running in circles.. Skipping beats.. Off time existence.. I am stuck to the floor.. I would scream but I have no mouth! It new.. That's all.. It's new and we need more clocks.. I'll be ok right?

Recovery

Hurts from tip to follicle.. the beat in my brain plays in sync with the sounds of my heart... in my throat the same song. I want it to be over... my happiness hindered by the over of the hang. If I close my eyes for hours in the early morning I shall wake with a new hope of recovery. It comes with a pain in my core that goes away when fed. I pull myself up, dizzy from the sounds of the voices in my slumber. A smile graces me.. I am tickled with glee. Have I forgotten the force with which it left?

Nearer to void

When the spirit is broken, much like a heart.. not much can mend.. Go on and on with the daily trend wondering.. what comes next? When a life so empty becomes so full then drains again I wonder what is the point? My eyes are going through a drought.. My heart anorexic and torn.. Sleep is a relief until surreality takes over only to be taken abruptly with the first light of the sun. Speaking to myself for hours on end, how will it get better when the only thoughts that cross my mind are tainted with the stench of your breath upon my skin...

Sometimes it seems easier to exist in a void. To exist in a world where no one is in it.. I figure the only one who feels this way is Irene.. who was with me and myself questioning the path with which we have followed on a skipping record for years counted in halves of 10. I swore in the first sentence that my fences weren't going to crumble. But what good do paper fences do when they are put up against a force so aqua it blasts the walls away with ease? We knew this was going to happen.. but we all watched as it was wrecked again by the scarlet tongue of the one who selfishly took all that was given to her on rent!

We are all at fault here. Not one innocent.. Not one of us is free. All bound by the chains that held us in each prison we chose. That prison was built with the knowledge that love exists here. So free form and so true. A second chance given was wasted by the ways of the faded ones who knew not what was wanted.. or what was needed.. The blind desire shadowed the entire show with one final curtain call. So familiar from the last cast! Disappointment and  bitterness shown through last time makes what's now a small smouldering mass of coles compared to the flames that burned our noses before. The smell of toasted flesh makes for a lovely conversation in the morning. One that I most surely have with myself when I am reassuring myself that everything is alright. When I lie to that doe eyed girl in the mirror each morning she looks back at me with a face that shows the signs of age. When that face duplicates the x-ray eyes you once gave me.. How is it ok to lie to the one you hold so true inside?

I awake poisoned stomach and  pulsating hair. I question the paintings put all around my head. Are they real? Or were they put here for me to view and interpret? An answer comes not from me. For if I knew the outcome I would have played my game differently. This mate is stale.. the stale taste of the forgotten person I left in to zeros and a lucky. The double ones of present still sing the same song. The melodies of a broken soul always ring louder than the rhythm of your broken heart.. still skipping a beat and repeating the same line until one of us dies...