you're not a freak

I want a baby. I was reiterating this all day. Later I realized this particular feeling was a link to my desire to birth a new creation of myself. I have been at such a loss this year, wandering aimlessly with my heart exposed like some wounded sparrow. I am abuzz with the idea of traveling again staying in New York this long has been unhealthy especially with no goal or destination. I love this city, the way it breathes, eats, swallows but occasionally I found myself contemplating its suicide inside of me. The memories that swarm all over me everywhere my feet walked, my legs scratched, my hands touched. I suppose once you feel love you can’t help but keep its memory alive. I expect life will change dramatically and for the better in 2010. I need some stability that does not drive me mad. I’ve decided without much thought just a simple twist of fate that I will dedicate myself full time to a volunteer program that pays (not a lot but enough) to work with Arab families in New York city. Maybe this will fulfill all those hearty desires I have for love. I know there is some synchronicity in it coming to this but I cannot model forever, and be happy. I wish it were possible but I feel my love for it wanes. It has a way of reawakening and this destined trip to a little down the east coast may win my heart over again but I cannot depend on its awakening. These things happen or they don’t. I only know I need more to satisfy my heart and soul.

one last night

The beach behind her is one I’m familiar with, and my heart skips a thousand beats. My own engine begins to rev, my bones breaking open. I’m suddenly sobbing in front of this computer screen where her smile is so wide and bright that I’m not sure what I long for more the beach or her. I thought I was over this, but I suppose I reopened the wound myself. It probably is that she seems so unaffected by our departure from one another’s lives that brings this rush of stabbing pain in my heart. I want so desperately to be over it, to forget this longing I feel for her. That distinct pining that waves between me like the ocean she just left behind. Those moments of happiness were just dreams, weren’t they? My body in bright wool colors pressed against her, shoving her along a wall with my lips at the forefront - leaning over to kiss her before we parted. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. What a fool I feel like for falling for this woman who will never desire me as I have desired her. The pain she has caused has already been so deep, and yet I can’t seem to entirely cut the cord. I am addicted to the moments of awareness, even our last encounter brought strange feelings of loss for each of us. I haven’t cried over her many times, maybe because I understood early on this would hurt me and so I kept myself together tightly by yarn and needles. I crawl back into bed, with my knees to my chest and sob some more for what I’ve lost, for what never was and for never being able to share my feelings for her - with her. One day I may consider the idea of writing it all down for her eyes to see, but only when I know I am strong enough that any response would not drive a stealthy stake into my already broken heart.

It would be better if I thought that she did not care for me at all, that I never crossed her mind. It is worse when you know for sure that you do encounter this persons mind even as a memory at some point even if briefly. Oddly enough on a day where I would stumble across my undead feelings for her she would text message me then try to engage in a conversation, even if we were both short and stand offish in our responses it was something that shook me. If only she understood all the pain she had caused me. Jae. Jae. Jae. I used to say her name with an edge of beauty, temptation now whenever I utter it - it feels so brittle against my tongue, my lips pouring out with a shade of ugliness.

beating like a hammer

I bury my heart in the ground, not forever and only romantically. It simply does not suit me in that sense anymore. I’ve decided I can be romantic in other areas of my life, with my work and writing especially but with lovers it just doesn’t sit right. Everything I wrote in the past few days were about a lover I’d recently taken who despite both our obvious efforts not to get serious quickly ended up in several abrupt sexual encounters – that emerged as more as time wore on. I even met her children oddly enough, and found myself in her sons bedroom talking about cars, and having a blanket strewn over me. She already knew how easily I attach to children but subjected me to this involvement anyway. Her desire for me distorted her responsibilities and my desire to be wanted reflected my mistakes.

I still lust for Jae a little even though our last encounter was brief, and she saw me with this new lover. Her eyes stung with a distinct misery. I wasn’t sure though, as I kept looking at her through the crowd wondering, and waiting for something magical even mysterious to happen. In my heart I know I wanted her to declare some undying love for me. It has been said I carry my emotions in my eyes, and I shouldn’t have been surprised that my lover tugged at me saying “you two had a thing.” I suppose this wouldn’t have been obvious were my heart not still pining for something surprising to happen. I hope she thinks of me in that far away place, if only because it is where I have always felt at home. I imagine her dusting sand off her legs at night, the shimmer of the moon caressing her tan brown skin. The sound of the waves dancing in her ears, while she thinks. She is always thinking, and for a moment I cannot help but hope that she is not so cruel as to not think of me. I haven’t let myself think of this too much but tonight the thoughts come in and out if only because I have disconnected from the lover in my life who will most likely reconnect. They can never stay away for too long, even if she is stuck on finding something wrong with me.

My hearts still feels quite fragile and I am working on breathing new life into it but working through the extremity of this summer will take time for all these women began to mingle as one in my memory. It is as if I have loved them all, over and over again. I weaved a wicked web for myself, and unweaving its decline is the hardest thing of all. There are so many things I wish to forget such as my ex exclaiming that I am a cold hearted bitch. She is crazy though and I never did in fact love her, even though she desperately wanted me to. I cannot believe I had to swat her away at a party, nearly punching her in the face. The number three is a charm isn’t it? That must mean my dating misery is over. I cannot wait to runaway to California and I’m not afraid to call it running away, sometimes your heart needs to escape everything you know in order to build a new heart to sustain you for a little while – till you let that heart open again.

it's always the same

The full moon is wide and awake, and like an animal I feel as if I should howl at it. Admire its coming but wish away its madness. I always feel like a bubbling up balloon when the moon is wrung with that fiery glow in the evenings. I am already feeling restless, but this seems to be a common theme with me lately. The bright stretch of sky doesn’t ignite its usual existence of pleasure on my soul. I do actually feel an ugly sickening desire for this moons warped gaze. I am stepping on gravel with four inch heels, my hands wavering against my sides. The evening is cool, crisp with the demise of summer and the start of fall. No I want to scream do not take those brief humid skin bleeding days away from me just yet. Led Zeppelin plays on my ipod and my hips sway to Robert Plant’s voice and Jimmy Page’s guitar. She is sitting on a stool at the bar and I am late. I already recognize her stance, the way she bows her head while playing with her phone but I suppose this is not so uncommon when I am sleeping with someone – their motions become almost like a second nature to my own. Our bodies have come together in moments of desire but tonight I know I will not sleep with her.

I’m so consciously aware of how and when her feelings for me change over dinner that I draw in a quick breath as if I am drowning. My words get stung in the back of my throat, hard to come up in between my lips and finish the story of my lost love. I trickle down the years of Christi and I like reciting some descriptive poem. I even later break into short words of a poem I once wrote after we’d been separated for months but she came back to claim me as her own. I can tell my date is fascinated by this, by how strong willed my love is when it is alive and well. Unfortunately not everyone loves like me. I’ve learned this in all the hard old fashioned ways by having my heart ripped, and gutted for my loved ones to see. It is not my lovers fault in some ways as they never quite had the capacity in them to love as much as I can even though in the end I always feel as if I have just been had, or fooled. I can roll into the story of Christi and I so easily that I only later realize the candle at the dinner table has gone out when before I found my hand roaming near its heated blaze. I was intrigued by its ambiance.

She grips my hand in hers, her caramel skin contrasting with my snow white skin. I can’t tell if our hands fit as I am even more unwilling to give anything about me away right now – in this moment. It is only because I can see in her eyes that she desires me more than she had even an hour ago. Women especially crave the reckoning of love (even if it later drives them mad), and this one is so jaded and cynical about it that in some way I almost feel she has fallen under my spell when that switch goes off in her brain. She has never been loved as I love this is obvious by the descriptive emotions on her face. It is not that I was trying to reel her in – in fact the evening before I was trying to spin her out. I am turned off that she cheated in her last relationship, and it does not seem uncommon that these women exist but I could never betray someone I loved in such a demonic way. I would rather scrape my own heart out and feed it to the dogs. I say this in less words so that she knows I cannot condone such behavior even if she can. It seems silly to me what made her fall out of love with her ex because as an adult I still feel that love should be coveted when it appears in ones life.

Later while fastened to her hip, her big brown eyes fluttering to look at me she asks me ‘will you hurt me?’ and I catch my breath again. Who is this before me? She appears the same stoic, rational woman I first engaged with on that wild evening of longing for me (for my other lost love) but she is different inside. I almost want to explode, swing myself away from her and never look back but I’m fascinated by this change in her. It is just this about me that keeps me there, other peoples emotions have always cast an alarming interest to me, perhaps because I feel so different from everyone else. I’m obnoxious and cruel because I know I cannot love her even if this isn’t what she is questioning. I know that my love and affection take more time than others. As my best friend and I say we are not serial lovers. I do not give my heart away without a grand fight to keep it stored inside my chest. Yes I am a romantic fool but only when it comes to that, when it comes to a hammer slowly breaking down those most glorious walls I have built so high. She does not know me, and least of all understand me. I am not even sure she wants to. There is a part of me that wants to protect her even though she is years, and years older than me she strikes me as a vulnerable bird caught in a nest that is slowly unraveling.

dirty tick

I used to pine for love in such a structurally visceral way that every inch of my body ached for it. A slice of the devil courting me into a lustful affair of no inhibitions. My eyes full of wet tears, and wonder. These things were so wonderfully innocent, broken in parts of nonsense and yet my heart seemed to adjust to the rhythm like nothing else. I miss these days of innocent record, the way my heart reacted to a simple word or a sound - my pulse vibrating in my wrist. I enjoyed the mimic of pain and hunger Jae reminded me of, the discord of emotions that strung wildly inside of me. Strange how one becomes addicted to the actual act of being in love even if it is not the same love. Our minds can play the tricks on us so that we cannot see it as anything but. I should copy my heart and post it to both their chests and attach a cord to each side, and wrap it around their pristine waists.

I am destructive today, tonight - the weather marking an deep dark hole scathing itself in my heart. I laugh crazily so when I see that a garbage can is on fire, smoke spewing forth slowly but surely - yes so surely that the woman in front of me stops to a halt to stare. I cannot bother to look too long. There is enough fire in my heart to sustain me forever right now - forever is now. My heels are like the sound of a drums when stroked with sticks, and I bundle my anger into tight red fists, my fingernails painted that metallic blue that now reminds me of her apology - her desire to be right - to be okay. I wish I did not hate her so much, for it would show me that I never cared at all. It is apathy I wish for, the bright stem of apathy - no feelings at all of discomfort just a bright shiny glow of oddity. I could punch her in the face, but I suppose this might satisfy her - another acknowledgement that I cared enough to be angry.

Tomorrow I shall ignore her, ignore her until she becomes a ghost to me. Isn’t this what she has done to me? Reminded me of my other ghost who does not speak to me. How can I have fallen for two women so similar? Shouldn’t I have run in the polar opposite direction? I suppose had I not missed what Christi represented to me I would not have let myself get to deep in this sea in the first place. This sea, this sea of ugliness. It is a shame really since all that could have succeeded even briefly in beauty is restored to ashes. I can’t stand her last words, but they are what she wanted to leave on and they are not too different from Christi’s. I make jokes of her projection but I’d lie if I said I wasn’t shocked. I was disgusted when she began to grip me with words that held no meaning. I hope I will never write of her again but I enjoyed the desperation she made me feel because it reminded me of love. It reminded me of Christi who it is obvious I still pine for. I walk the streets with her memory. I am her memory.

It is not her I wish to erase though, it is this - this (Jae) I’d flick a match to (not literally of course). It isn’t wasted time I suppose because that would be downing my emotions, feelings - thoughts but I am still angry I let it continue this long. Long enough for me to realize my true feelings, and then to watch them wash away in some abandoned box in the sea. If only she knew what she had gotten rid of it in her deliberate selfishness I wonder if she’d been so blind and stupid. Probably for women often desire, or think they desire women like me but do not know what to do with me when I come barreling into their worlds. I make them assess, change. I never thought of these things as bad but I suppose this is why I spend so much of my time alone, and in love for if the people I loved so much could actually sustain me for all the time I have loved them it is possible they would have left sooner

you want him you got him

I think I may be slightly in love with her although I don’t know how this is even possible, as love has never struck me like this. Maybe it is just a powerful and even violent degree of lust? I expected so readily not to hear from her, and in a way as painful as the idea felt it gave me some sort of comfort to think this torture would end. It is true I have as much control over this situation as she does, but I cannot walk away or dismiss things as easily as she can. Maybe it is because my life has been a constant stream of seasons (events) and I cannot fathom her being a season and not a lifetime. I wonder if I will look back on these writings and feel frightened or even pity for my former, lustful self. Her latest message affected me so much that in the middle of dinner I simply stopped speaking to my mother who hadn’t seen me in a few days. A close friend constantly tells me that she will not disappear but I rarely take this idea to heart, as she has dismissed me for months before seemingly dismissing me from her system as easily as yesterday’s underwear. It is worse since I described certain events that had happened to me as a child, and then to think that she avoided me at this party because she couldn’t explain her mood to me is such an ugly, and devoid of emotion cop out. I still feel like this pathetic, wimpy little girl and I know I am not this person but I have no idea why this woman pursues me so religiously, and yet does not want to be with me. I was the storm she wanted to live through, the woman she wanted to run away with. Were all these things lies? Did I manifest our connection like some lonely soul who is in dire need of a a body to protect her from the cold winter nights? I cannot think of myself as that pitiful since my options have never been all too slim. I want to tell her I’ve slept with someone, and I wonder if this will make her feel less than what she already feels or doesn’t feel for me and the thrill of causing her any sensation of pain lingers inside of me momentarily that I contemplate throwing the fact out there just as some brutal test, another declaration of how little she means to me (which is untrue as I would drop anyone and anything to be with her).

Her initial message was spread with an apology for Sunday, for this obvious disregard for me. I told her that I am invisible to her, some lanky ghost she barely sees which she denied - and maybe there is truth in both sides for it is obvious that she thinks of me even if briefly in a guilt stricken sort of way. I am desperate enough to take this attention for now but this cannot sustain me for much longer. I haven’t cried over this, not in the traditional cry my eyes out sort of way. I haven’t watched sullen movies to get my emotions out although I did watch ‘walk the line’ recently and became grief stricken enough to cry slightly for my loves lost and the one I cannot seem to have. I even told Jae once I would wait for her, wait till she was ready to be with me - but this is useless as she already left me once and to my surprise to be with someone else. I only learned this recently as I’d never expected it nor anticipated such an odd betrayal of emotions. I would never had continued to pine for her at those initial stages of loss if I had known she wasn’t contemplating the loss as much as I was. Although she never said a word about it, all those times we ran into each other. I do not even know where this woman falls into the timeline but it does not seem fair to hold it completely against her as I ended up dating Sal out of loneliness. On the short topic of crying I let myself cry this evening, not for long but my mind began to wander sadly to these places that she brings me in my mind. Rejection linked with abandonment are prominent here, and I almost feel like the rain is a blessing to disguise my tears.

I walk home, brushing my feet along the sidewalk and think about sex with this other woman, a much older woman and it was wonderful but it lacked the passion I need in order to survive in anything. I won’t forget her, nor ignore her but I fear my heart is taken and what is one to do when that is so obviously the case? I wonder if Jae saw me leave with this woman, for I was too drunk to remember not that it should matter since she gets some sort of pleasure out of my misery. I wouldn’t be surprised if I bedded more women in this state of mind, although I’ve never considered myself that type of woman I feel like the farther away I get from these feelings the easier it will be to say goodbye. My mom was kind enough to put in her two cents tonight but I still cannot help but feel foolish. Why am I reliving these foot steps Christi perfected for me years ago? It is obvious I am learning but I still don’t understand this let go process, especially when my heart has not had the challenge of attesting to all these feelings. At least with Christi even though I discovered later on how much I loved her, I’d had years of expressing everything I felt even if we did not end up as the lovers I had always thought we could be. This feels worse because there is a future not yet discovered, one that exists in some far off place and yet does not exist for me here. I am even beginning to think I am a bad lover although no one has said such a thing I can’t seem to keep my brain from thinking of her. Maybe it is that I don’t feel I am at my best unless I have genuine feelings for the woman.

tell mr campbel madison square garden is dead

It could be that the August heat is getting to me, my mind wandering off in directions that appear a bit insane or simply wild. I wasn’t surprised when I decided late at night that I would meet an old friend for a drink. I have to get out of my head sometimes, break the vicious cycle of thinking about both these women so constantly. I can feel the bubbling of an eruption about to ignite - and when I feel this it is only a matter of a time before I burst open. The seams breaking to unleash a pile of muted flesh, and a sliver of a broken heart. It is at these times I know I am at my strongest and weakest. Alcohol can either help, or make the madness worse. Once again I feel ignored, as if I am some repelling creature that has no contemplation in her mind, in both their minds. How can I waste my time caring so much for women who so obviously do not deserve a single thought in my head or heart?

Once Jae and I speed closer to a shared intimacy, one where our childhoods are brought up as if we are old and trusted friends she always backs off. I am reliving the moments of when I finally told Christi I loved her after years of her pursuit. It is the fact that rejection seems so evident here, the pure unadulterated ignorance that rips me up inside. I can stand for more, anything other than this would do - would be understandable but when she connects with me and slithers off once again only proving that our intimacy must be of a false nature when it does happen for how does she abandon it so quickly? I even told her about my father this week, a story I save for close and trusted friends, and she became angry expressing that he didn’t even deserve to have me in his life - to hear me laugh. How can someone feel so openly aware of caring for me yet abandon me just when the connection begins to peak again. I know in my heart this is a test for me, that she is not worth it. What does she have to offer me that keeps me from abandoning her myself? Yet the anger and frustration broke last night and I picked up my purse, grabbed the keys to my second home and hopped on the subway declaring that for the evening I would forget.

On Sunday I feel rather pathetic when I run into her outside of this summer lesbian party, where she always is apparently in the same black tee shirt and jeans. I remind her later that I have shirts waiting for her, but these things don’t matter so much as I have no intention of meeting up with her so she can have these items I bought her. She barely acknowledges me, which isn’t uncommon for her. Her mood swings run rampant and grossly. Later I tell a friend I wish I could erase her, and I get drunk when I notice she is only feet away from me. Why is this community so tight, so full of the same women everywhere? As soon as the second shot of gin washes down I am full of temptation. Does she care for me at all? I don’t catch her glancing at me once, and I know it is her mere snub of me that hurts the most. If I knew in some respect that I mattered I probably would not care so much. I disgust myself when I stalk her to the bar, and catch her while she walks through the dance floor. Her friends must think I am an obsessive child, after their friend like some sort of vulture but she made this all possible - had she not given me slivers of hope I would have dismissed her with the flick of a hand.