Thoughts from Vacant Beaches

I skipped class today after work and took a drive out to a beach I know of that's usually vacant and found it still is. I've begun to hate the beach and I avoid it at all cost. I don't really know why, maybe it's the people and the noise they make or maybe it's just me hating Florida. This place is beautiful, I can understand why people like it. I was talking to a writer the other day who was finishing her book where I work and of course she told me everything that everyone always tells me, "These are the best years of your life." I hate that. In the end I haven't lived them to the full potential if they are. I need change. I need things to get better, desperately. I haven't been in the best state of mind lately which is why this blog looks like a graveyard on the summary page. I've been lashing out at my life because I've been stuck in this little box for too long and getting out, feeling the air a bit in the world for such a short while woke me up to the way I live.

I really had intended to stay down there until I realized just how lonely I would have become, as if I'm not already bad enough in that aspect. I don't think people realize that. A lot of people say that they would rather be by themselves but I know what living like that actually does to you first hand. I worked so hard to get to South America that when I got there, I was so tired, exploration wasn't as vivid as the original idea had been. It was still worth all the while and is unforgettable. It's the best trip I've been on and I can't escape the memory of who was there with me. Although I feel I took up too much time, I could tell the days he would have rather not been there and didn't want to be around me. I felt horrible about that the whole time. He was always good to me, I just want him to be happy. I wanted loving him to be a good thing but it didn't mean anything to him. I wasn't worth the fight. It isn't easy, I have to think about him everyday and I've written some things I didn't mean but I have hope that further from now he'll remember me and maybe smile. I hope that one day he'll have everything he wants. I want that so much.

Of course, it is a personal flaw that I had told myself to come back convincing myself that things would get better, there were ways of improving. When I did come back, everything was the same, I was just happier and still taking daily dosages of that hope. Until what remained of my money was taken from me, I started making myself sick out of stress and not eating, and I had no one's place to escape to, there was no quiet bedroom I could collapse in, no one to talk to, no arm would wrap around me when I went to sleep, and I realized I was in the exact same place I had been before I left and that scared me more than anything. I don't think people realize what lonely really means.

I'm creating though, through everything. Art, however bad mine is, has always been worth it. I bought a new hat and some books. Hats always make me feel better. Weird ones that I can work into my wardrobe in some way especially make my day. I need more hats. Lastly, someone told me he'd move with me to Portland. We're going to start a house out there and we laid down all the requirements which really made everything seem real. We're driving up at the end of January with another girl from where I work who doesn't know yet that she's coming. We're also going to start a band, which is something I've always wanted to do. I've just always been too intimidated to join in anyone else's. We plan on raising free range chickens and having a diverse vegetable garden and we may start our own microbrewery. It's all very exciting and since we work together there's no way this excitement can just die over night.

I'm looking forward to the Northwest and exploring an area I've never been to before. Mostly I can barely even stand the wait to feel the mountain air and being outside really doing things.

I left the beach feeling better. I need to learn how to control the passion that I have inside of me. It's as if my life is one of the novels I read, I need something to be happening to me for it to be worth even telling the story, I need change, I need a future, I need hope. I just wish sometimes that I could have had just one thing I've dreamt of or fought for. I really can't live off of false hopes anymore. I'm going to close my eyes tonight and live in the things I've wanted. It is as close to real as any of it ever can be.

I've been fond of this song lately, it's funny how you stumble on songs that seem to fit so elegantly for the time. Music has a way of finding you: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mT69zOTNa8Q

Run the curve of the spine
fingers through hair
and smile for the first time.

Images laying on unsettled beaches
claimed with whispers
flag draped in memories unsearchable
untraceable effigies.
We will never leave.

The raucous noise of after night
that breaks between our minds
replaces skin to shadow
breaks through, creation of unremembered hour
how uncertain the hope infected mind.

Unmerciful lonely sanity
empty trays and sounds fade
feel the heartbeat that goes beyond me
this was our last day.

Run the curve of the spine
fingers through hair
smile for the last time.

Fields of sabulous structure
hollow hearted thunder
watch the needled arm bleed
and wish to live some other life
in some other time.

In the bold and busted quiet I heard
echoed cries of a bridled soul
and it slowly shattered mine.

In the dreary morning
I wake to find
you still glide through the mountains
in my unrested mind.

In the thick of it all, I've lost everything that mattered to me. There is a storm that some know of and they see the weather in my eyes. It is these lines that say where the story should have began, where it should have been in the intersection of running themes, where it should have overcome every obstacle, and where it should have ended, and then humbly states where it has and where it will. The truth is what last leaves the mouth. It opens up the curtains and blinds the one who wanted to know the secret, the only secret being that blinding pain and nothing else, just an abrupt end to the dreaming.

There are no more words.

I wish for the world to fall into your hands.
For the oceans to flow in your veins,
for the soil to roll over your skin.
I wish for the fire to burn in your soul,
for the cool, still, air to fill your mind.
And I wish for all the peace to fill your eyes,
so that only hopeful rain you may cry.
And I wish for your heart to sail in the sky,
and to reach freedom as you fly.

Jagged Soul.

The uneven fit,
jagged edge in the life's world
it was written in the blue of it all
that it would never know it at all
and so is the fall
of the uneven fit in the world
and the jagged edge in a life
Everything feels lost tonight.

"Guerrero De La Independencia"

Cementerio de la Recoleta
Buenos Aires, Argentina

in any other world...

I am ancient.
satined, silked, and laced.
I dance en pointe to the hollow melody...
pianoed, violined, celloed
on repeat.
I spun with flocks of seagulls on an ancient beach
and watched your eyes turning everyday
away from me.

My eternal winter waits with me
only to view sun avoid sea.
Steady, moved, agile...patiently....
patiently.

Canyons weather larger
no desire lingers to cross those summer passes.
Against the water, rivered acreage,
against the back dropped meadows and rain forests
against the mighty elements that crawl me
out of my skin
I am ancient.

Colorblind analysis of a dappled orange sunset
it was a story closing in.
Still standing,
drunken in the desert
to wait and wish for the fabled return
of the only lost friend.

Sorrow becomes the soul
trickles black rushing through flush porcelain.
Distances, distances, miles and oceans to cross
and only one misty sailor remains.
I am dust and shattered gravel
kicked up, now settled
from the day you paved your road.
In the shadows of the street lamps and echoed halls
I felt you breathe.
Knowing I'll never feel you
feeling me.

I am ancient.
Satined, silked, and laced
and dance en pointe to the hollow melody...
pianoed, violined, celloed,
on repeat.
I've spun with a flock of seagulls on an ancient beach
and watched your eyes turning everyday
away from me.

I am ancient.
To be
misplaced memory
in a future unseen
I lost.
I am ancient.