Tedium Vitae.
February 12, 2013

I think I’m addicted to these moments; these moments within moments when you remember something you haven’t in a long time. And in that little tiny space, the memories hit you so hard it’s as if you’re reliving it all over the again. With each breath, each laugh, each touch, you’re just there. All over again. And it’s so beautiful you want to freeze time and live in that moment forever.

But then you open your eyes and it all fades away. You realize that all that’s happen was just a memory, a memory which no one remembers, but you.

So I close my eyes and drift away again. Remembering the things you forgot. Remembering the moments within the moments.

You can spend hours, and days, and weeks, and months, and years, paving bricks upon bricks, one on top of the other, making that wall. But  the thoughts will wash over as they weave themselves into angry tides, crashing against the confined spaces of your skull.

I feel the  little pieces of my life start chipping away in bits and lumps.

So I curl into bed and drift away again. I’m tired in my heart. I’m tired in my bones. I’m tired of disappointing others. I’m tired disappointing me. I’m just. Tired.

(I’m sorry I’m so hard to deal with.)

“This is why it hurts the way it hurts. You have too many words in your head. There are too many ways to describe the way you feel. You will never have the luxury of a dull ache. You must suffer through the intricacy of feeling too much.”

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Unnerving.
April 17, 2012

“There’s something about you that’s just so..” he starts saying.

And she braces herself for another one of his little persnickety, passive aggressive outburst, except he seemed to be deep in thought.

His eyes searched the ground fruitlessly and a little crease formed on his forehead, as if he has the words just on the edge of his tongue but they just weren’t forming on his lips.

That’s a first.

“Incessant?” she suggests, like a child offering an unsure answer in class.

“Irritating?” she takes a step toward him as his gaze flickers back up.

“Exasperating? Fundamentally annoying? I could go on,”

“Disarming,” he decides with a smile, “It’s unnerving,” he continued, voice light yet teeming with sincerity.

It takes her a while to realize he isn’t teasing and the implications throw her completely off. She bites down on her lower lip, trying to shield the smile that was slowly creeping in.

“Careful there,” she warns before turning around to take a step away from what felt like dangerous territory.

“What?”

“You just said something about me that doesn’t fall into the negative category,” she turns back around to find his towering form just behind her.

“As a matter of fact, it was positively in a neutral light, and you need to be very careful when you do that,” she continued, although the closeness was unnerving her, “The sky could fall down,”

“You know when sometimes you meet someone so beautiful and then you actually talk to them and five minutes later they’re as dull as a brick? Then there’s other people, when you meet them you think, ‘Not bad. They’re okay.’ And then you get to know them and… and their face just sort of becomes them. Like their personality’s written all over it. And they just turn into something so beautiful.”
Amelia Pond, Doctor Who Ep#6.10: The Girl Who Waited

It’s You.
March 23, 2012

It’s the taste of whiskey and coke, the trail of smoke upon your breath.
It’s the reckless abandon, the fleeting moment, the plunge of thought into sweet death.

It’s the exhilarating pain, the intoxicating pleasure, the bitter refusal of defeat.
It’s the heavy breaths, the spreading warmth, the rise and fall beneath the sheets.

It’s the lingering sidelong glance, the shivers up my spine.
It’s the willowy touch of wisp and smoke, the way we intertwined.

It’s a kiss, long and lingering, the breaking point, the edge of desire.
It’s you.
The way you make me feel, the way you make me remember.