Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

The Butterfly Story.
June 1, 2012

“One day a man saw a butterfly shuddering on the sidewalk locked in a seemingly hopeless struggle to free itself from its now useless cocoon. Feeling pity, he took a pocket knife, carefully cut away the cocoon and set the butterfly free. To his dismay it lay on the sidewalk, convulsed weakly for a while, and died. A biologist later told him, “That’s the worst thing you could have done! A butterfly needs that struggle to develop the muscles to fly. By robbing him of the struggle, you made him too weak to live.”

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Trapped.
May 31, 2012

There are good days and there are bad days.

Some days, it’s easier to laugh it off.

Other days, not so much.

And those are the days that are spent being so incoherently sad that there are no other words more suitable or appropriate to describe it. You’re just. Sad.

“People fall so in love with their pain, they can’t leave it behind. The same as the stories they tell. We trap ourselves.
Chuck Palahniuk.

Ruin Me.
April 27, 2012

” ‘Maybe…you’ll fall in love with me all over again.’
‘Hell,’ I said, ‘I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?’
‘Yes. I want to ruin you.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘That’s what I want too.’ “
Ernest Hemingway

I am Me, and I am Okay.
February 17, 2012

“I am me. In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me. Everything that comes out of me is authentically mine, because I alone chose it — I own everything about me: my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions, whether they be to others or myself. I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears. I own my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes. Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me. By so doing, I can love me and be friendly with all my parts. I know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other aspects that I do not know — but as long as I am friendly and loving to myself, I can courageously and hopefully look for solutions to the puzzles and ways to find out more about me. However I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically me. If later some parts of how I looked, sounded, thought, and felt turn out to be unfitting, I can discard that which is unfitting, keep the rest, and invent something new for that which I discarded. I can see, hear, feel, think, say, and do. I have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive, and to make sense and order out of the world of people and things outside of me. I own me, and therefore, I can engineer me. I am me, and I am okay.”
Virginia Satir

Happy Birthday.
January 20, 2012

Not for the first time, I opened my eyes this morning, wishing you were here. You weren’t. It was just another product of my imagination condemned to be felt just in the deepest corners of my mind.

I laid in bed this morning, wishing I were where you are. I’m not. And it’s awful to know that while your imagination is taking you to a place in which you want to be, the bitter cold of the morning nips your skins telling you condescendingly that it’s time to face the reality you don’t want to encounter; that you’re holding on to something that’s gone.

The silence that greeted me was clear and loud. And I think for the first time in all the years that we have played this push and pull, I am thankful for this silence.

I don’t know where you are, or what you’re doing. You’re on your own now. Completely independent from me. And I from you.

And then sharp pain stabs at me because I remember how much I wanted you. And not like full of sex, or like baking cakes or watching films or the usual soppy shit. I wanted to be able to read a book on the sofa while you watched the telly, and just be utterly comfortable. I wanted you to laugh at me when I’m singing to the radio or when I’m just laying on the bed depressing as fuck after having a shit day. I wanted to be able to go on walks at like 3 o clock in the morning, watch the stars until the sun comes up, and then we can realize how insignificant we are.

And for a brief moment, the silence hurts more than anything.

But then I remind myself that I need this silence. And the pain ebbs away.

Three years ago, I never would have imagined someone’s silence would be able to have such an influence in my life. Two years ago, this silence would have killed me. A year ago, within the silence, I wondered how differently our story would have played out had you have not found me and gotten me so hung up on you.

I still do. I wonder every now and again. Would my story have played out any differently? Would I have met someone else? Would I have the courage to want what I want today? Would what I want be any different if I had spent all my time talking to other people that weren’t you?

These are just some things I will never know.

“Happy Birthday. I love you, whoever you would’ve been.”

Protected: Kidding Me, You Have Got To Be.
November 25, 2011

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Not Yet. Please?
October 9, 2011

“I guess we’re adults. The question is, when did that happen, and how do we make it stop?”
Meredith Grey, Greys Anatomy, Ep#1.05

Protected: Shallow.
April 21, 2011

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Protected: Slips and Tears.
December 21, 2010

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Protected: Your Eyes.
May 23, 2010

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