A Recollection: Concrete Blonde, Johnette Napolitano, and a Crush

 Concrete Blonde is my favorite band. Of all time. Johnette Napolitano could be my entire aesthetic. I first heard them when I was fifteen, the song God is a Bullet was used on the TV show 21 Jump Street. That show also introduced me to Suicidal Tendencies. They used to show the album covers of the songs used in each episode at the end, which was awesome in the age well before Soundhound or Shazam. Or readily available cell phones, we are talking 1989 here. I asked for the cassette for my birthday, and I've been hooked ever since. I don't know if I have a favorite Concrete Blonde song, but I Don't Need a Hero and Scene of a Perfect Crime are way up there. I don't even have a favorite album, but Free was my first and has a special place in my heart. I really love Group Therapy as well, but there is apparently a copyright issue with that one, as you can't find any of the songs online. I've looked for True Pt. III many times. Every mood and feeling I have seems to have a Concrete Blonde song that corresponds. Johnette speaks to my soul. I don't have idols, but she is amazing. I love her voice, her words, her art. She is one of the most beautiful women that has ever existed, to me . If I could look like anyone on the planet, it would be Johnette Napolitano, Tamara Taylor, or Monica Belluci. I have no words for what the band and the music and the words have added to my life. If you aren't familiar with them, other that the goth night song and the radio song, there are s couple of good compilations that span the bands discography, to a point. Johnette alson has amazing solo material.

Many years ago, we had goth night twice a week here, at a gay bar. I was there nearly every goth night. (This is all related, stick with me.) It was generally well attended, and I love to dance. So, there was a guy that used to come out semi regularly, that I had this giant crush on. He had a Christian Bale smile, and always looked slightly sad. I have loved Christian Bale since I was 13, it predates even the Concrete Blonde love. This guy was about my height, maybe not quite. He was frequently wearing khakis and a hawaiian shirt. To goth night. I used to just stare at his face. A lot. Way too much. I was married, and it was the last couple of years of my marriage, and everything sucked and nothing was ever okay. My self esteem was at it's worst, though I've been told recently that I carried myself like a queen, even then. I was so unhappy. I just wanted to dance. I didn't talk to that many people, though I had a few close friends. I sat in the dark by the dance floor, waiting for what I wanted to dance to. I didn't even really drink back then. The bartender was, and still is, one of my best friends, and I'd hang out at the bar to drink water and talk to him, and stare at this guy. Like, I couldn't stop. Yes, I know his name, Darrell (the bartender) told me. This would be around 2003-2004. I never spoke to the man I stared out for hours over time. I've never had a conversation with him. I don't think anyone knew my crush even was. I was married, and even unhappy, I'm not built that way. No matter how fucking beautiful he was to me, I never even said hi. Okay, I spoke to him exactly once. I was at a bachelorette party at a heavy metal dive bar. It was super loud, and the fourth, or so, bar we had been at. I was sitting at the bar, leaning over to talk to my friend beside me, because it was super loud, and the bartender touched my hand to get my attention, to see if I wanted anything. I looked, and guess who tended bar ath the heavy metal dive bar? Yep. And he touched me. And I fell off of my barstool. I am not a cool or graceful creature. He came around to make sure I was okay, and to help me up. I think I only smiled, and when he got back to his side of the bar, he asked if I wanted a drink, on him, so I ordered a vodka and diet coke. That is the extent of our interaction. Two years of staring. I can still picture his Christian Bale smile and sad eyes. I know nothing about him except his first name, and I think he dated a friend of a friend for a while. He stopped coming out. I got seperated in 2005. The world moved on.

In late 2006 I started dating someone, and we moved in together. He knew my love of Concrete Blonde, and Johnette was doing a solo tour in small bars. He got me tickets. It was probably 2007 by this point. So we went to Local 506, a tiny bar, to see Johnette with just a guy with an acoustic guitar on a stage that's about 8 inches off of the ground. She was wearing a burgundy velvet dress and drinking wine from a bottle. I can clearly remeber her singing Amazing and Scarred, with her eyes shut. Both very moving songs. There were maybe 25 people there. I t was the closest I'd been to her, and I was entranced. The first time I saw Concrete Blonde, they opened for Sting, then I'd seen them at medium sized places, but this, this was almost too much, too close, too overwhelming, too personal. I rarely seek to meet those whose art I love. I don't think that I have anything to say that they haven't heard. I'm not going to make a difference to any of their lives. This is one reason that I'm good at the thing I do for conventions. Famous people are just people. I'm just one of hundreds ot thousands of people they might meet. I'm a background human. I don't do autographs or pictures, usually, I don't feel a need to prove that I've been in proximity to people. I'm not knocking it, it's just not my thing. I've never spoken to Johnette. I have left a comment on her tarot reading blog that she responded to, but that's it. So, there I was. With the man I lived with. Having some sortof near religious experience, actual tears in my eyes, staring at her from about 5 feet away. I look around, and to my right, close enough to touch, is the guy with the Christian Bale smile. Staring at her, every bit as in awe as I was. While my significant other was semi bored on my other side. when I'm with someone, I'm with them. I'm not killing time. I'm not trying to find someone more interested. I'm true and I'm loyal and I lways have been. I always will be. I split the rest of the night looking from one to the other. Johnette, Jay, Johnette, Jay. Yes, his name was Jay. I think. It was one of the best shows of my life. I haven't seen him since.

 This Monday morning on my way to work, I was listening to Concrete Blonde on my way to work, as I do. I was listening to Happy Birthday, because it was my birthday, and that memory popped into my head, so clear. Seeing him at her solos show, with so few people around. Watching him watch her. Then I remebered falling off of the bar stool, and the hawaiian shirts. I remembered Jay.

No, I'm not wondering what would have been different if I had talked to him. I was partnered. I do find people attractive, of course, but I'm not built in a way that allows me to be disrespectful to those I love. Or questionable, even, usually. Not saying it's good or otherwise, it's just me. 

That's my story.

I realize that I haven't made anything since before. Before the thing. Literally, I was looking at instagram, and the day before, I posted something I was so proud of. I had spent The day sending him pics of new stuff I had made. Then I just, stopped. Cold.

This weekend, I'm making art.

What;s your favorite Concrete Blonde song? Leave me a comment!

The Real Birthday Blues

 Having a birthday on January 4th has always been a bit of a bummer. The 10th day of Christmas, though I've never even seen ten lords a leaping. Three days after New Year's Day. Depending on how the days fall, frequently the day that winter breaks end. When I was a wee sprout, my mom made a big deal about it. I love celebrations, and special occasions, no matter how stoic and cynical some people find me. Because of 2020, and mental health/brain problem, and being broken hearted, this one is set to really blow chunks. Today, I'm having a bad anxiety day, but there will be a tiny cake and tacos at home. I'll try to remember to add pics later.

Hopefully, it won't be the worst birthday ever. I spent one of my birthdays in my 20s, when I was married, snowed in my house alone for three or four days. I hate snow. On my actual birthday, I nearly choked to death on soggy fruit loops. My tongue was pierced back then, and I somehow managed to get a fruit loops stuck on the bar on my tongue and in my throat. I literally lost consciousness for a moment, and fell, which dislodged the loops. I think it's kind of funny, now. 

I'm doing a class thing that gives you something to focus on/ write about each week for a year, both to write and know yourself better, this week is obstacles. What is my biggest obstacle? Me, clearly. I've gotten to where I am by a series of my own choices. With a litlle crazypants thrown in. My longest running obstacle? Still me. Self esteem, maybe. I've been trying to see myself like others see me. Which is hard, because of the break up thing. To some, I'm funny and smart and supportive and steady. I feel, like completely, not enough.

I am very empathetic. I believe you don't owe anyone your time, or your pain, or your effort. I believe you can't change how you feel, to an extent. You can choose to work to change. You can make an effort for things and people that are important. I believe in independence, and taking care of yourself first, though I don't always do that. I believe in honesty. I believe in doing what is right. I believe in finding joy and beauty all around. I believe in comfort and laughter. I believe in loving who you love. I believe you don't have to explain yourself or justify yourself to anyone. And I know, I'm trying not to go on and on about it, but...the breakup. All of those things apply to him, as well. But that really hurts, because I know that I fell so short, that he completely walked away. I felt like I was a bother, and making him respond to me when I messaged him. Making him think about me. Making him answer. So, I left it up to him. Oh. I see.

Generally if I say, oh, I see, my feelings are very hurt. 

Yep.

If I reply to a text or message with that, or just oh, it means I'm having that sinking, swallowed dry ice butterflies feeling in my belly. That's just a me thing. Partially because I almost always respond, just to show that I read the message. The more you know.

Throughout this saga, I've been reaching out more, which has been hard, because if the man you are in love with doesn't feel the same way, and you didn't know, how can you be sure who really likes you? What if everyone reassures me without meaning it? 

I know, I've said these things before. Telling me that I must not really know him, or that I'm worth so much more, or that the person I describe isn't the real person, or that he's bad in any way, or that I don't know him, really, isn't much helping. I do know him. I realize there's a repeat in there. Telling me that my adoration is possibly a symptom of the brain thing really doesn't help. I have doctors for that.

Last year, for my birthday, I got gothy dressed up and went to a nice dinner with him, at one of my favorite places. Then we went o goth night, one of my favorite things. I was so happy. It was the best birthday that I can remember. And we were out in public! I know how pathetic it sounds, you don't have to tell me. Telling me that I miss being in love doesn't help. I'm still in love. He just isn't. With me. He just, isn't. What I want or need from this situation is clearly unimportant right now. Maybe he's giving me time and space to heal. Maybe he feels bad about what happened. Maybe he hates me. Maybe he wants me to shut the fuck up.  Maybe he's just done.I don't have a clue.  He's not a villain. Yes, I still say good morning to him, out loud instead of by message. Yes, I save things to my phone that I would have sent to him. I dream about kissing him, being wrapped in his arms, but that is the bit I know he never wants again. I reread the message that states that clearly, if I'm having a hard time not messaging him. He could contact me at any time, in multiple ways. He doesn't owe me anything. He doesn't have to justify himself. I thought he would at least miss me as a friend. Maybe I bring too much drama or dread. It wasn't my intention. I still don't understand anything and he's not talking. He doesn't have to. He's making his own choices. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I don't even know if he knows my birthday is tomorrow. Pretty sure that it doesn't change anything. But he did give me one amazing one, last year. And he made me the best cookies ever 4 years ago for my birthday, when we were friends.

Gah. You're tired of hearing about it, I'm tired of feeling it, we're all tired here. I haven't been reaching out to talk about it. I think everyone is tired of it. I fell everyone is tired of me, no matter what pretty words they say.

Nothing is helping, really, except the medical shit. I am getting "better." I am healing, despite what it sounds like. As I said in an earlier post, I tend to repeat myself until I understand or come to grips with something. I know he's not coming back. I know there is nothing I can do or say to change that. It doesn't stop the missing, or the dreams of kisses. 

I keep getting Timekiller by Project Pitchfork stuck in my head. The perspective is wrong, but I don't want to be just a timekiller until something better comes along. Three in a row, yo. I haven't even dated that many people. That's like, half of my relationships. I don't want to be a timekiller anymore. 

I'm writing today, because tomorrw, my birthday, I'll be at work, and then a medical thing. Fun times, woohoo! This one is going to be sad and lonely. I'll survive.

Happy Aubrey's Birthday, y'all! 

Pic of my new tattoo again, because I love it. The story of it is in the post titled The Starless Sea.

3 Card New Year's Day Spread/Birthday Blues

 

From the Tarot Del Toro Deck, a simple New Year's Day 3 card spread, this was pulled as the basic Past/Present/Future. These cards are gorgeous! The art is astounding. I also realized that one of my other passions, even fandoms is represented, in one of these pics, cross stitching, and specifically stitching the amazing designs of Screaming Heart Designs. Find her on Etsy if you need patterns, I'm a little obsessed. That one in the image is the last of the Four Squares of the Apocalypse that I have to finish, Famine. I'm mostly done, then I'll finish them for framing and write about them.

In the past position is the King of Cups, or Goblets in this deck. He is emotional maturity, stability, mastery of a skill, being in control, success in learning. He's a leader that relies on logic, and making sure everything is taken care of. Thinking things through. Today, in the past position, he represents that the stability has been shaken, and you may feel like you are slipping from what you have achieved, you may be feeling a little off kilter, or full on crazy pants.The art on this card features the vampire from The Strain. Maybe you were on top of your game, and are feeling a little...drained? (Waka, waka, waka!)

In the present, we have the Knight of Discs (pentacles). This is hard work, and planning for the long term. This knight is not getting to where he's going quickly, necessarily, but he's considered all of the possibilities, made a plan, and put it into motion. He takes responsibility for his actions, learns, and uses that knowledge to reach his goals. Maybe a mistake has been made, a hard lesson that has caused you to reassess, in the now. It may seem impossible, but make lists, make plans, do the work and don't wait and hope. And do it now, not tomorrow. This card art features medieval style version of Striker Eureka fighting the Kaiju Knifehead, both from Pacific Rim. Never thought I'd type  Medieval and Kaiju in the same sentence...

In the future, Strength. Which represents, well, strength. Traditional decks show a woman calmly holding open the jaws of an adult lion. Strength is not just physical, it is emotional fortitude, and compassion, and knowing what is right, and doing that. Unstoppable will, and energy. Go read the poem Invictus, this is that. This card art features Mr. Wink, from Hellboy II, with his steel arm.

So, things were going well and stable, and were maybe knocked askew, causing some self doubt. Planning, knowing what you want, and working towards it, calmly and without panic is the course. Inconquerability is the result. Put that plan and drive to use, and overcome, and achieve.

Which is all true, without these cards, as well.

I hate New Year's Eve. Last year was the only notable great one I've ever had. I am almost always alone, and have generally just kept my normal sleeps time in recent years. But Monday is my birthday, so there is that. Frequently, when I was in school, my birthday was the day classes resumed. Yay. I usually take it off, but I didn't this year. I guess I'm not really doing anything for my birthday, at all. I did order myself a tiny cake. Might make tacos. Monday, I'll work and then do a mental health thing, maybe eat some drive through. I love my birthday, my mom always made a point to make it special, because it's so close to Christmas and New Year's. Combo gifts weren't allowed, because you wouldn't do that for someone who's birthday was in any other month, so it didn't happen for the girl born on the 10th day of Christmas. I'm pretty sad about it, but it's hard to sound like an adult and explain that to people, you know? Especially when you will be halfway to 94. But I can't really stamp my feet and ask for gifts and attention. Can I?

New beginnings. Use them wisely.

Queen of Diamonds, Ace of Hearts, Alice, Toast

 

Today's cards are the Queen of Diamonds and Ace of Hearts, from a new to me deck of Alice in wonderland playing cards. They are quite lovely!  The Queen of Diamonds can represent several different things, as they all can. Diamonds are the earth sign, and this queen (teapot?) is pointing backwards, to the past. This one is going to be a bit complicated. She is feminine energy, and can represent the fulfillment of dreams. But! (And she has a big but...) You have made a mistake, somewhere, put faith in the wrong person, you have perhaps taken the wrong turn at a crossroads. Choice is sacred, after all, it's the most important thing of all. This is a hard path, with obstacles put in front of you intentionally, and perhaps you've been feeling like the path you chose would be smoother, but you are finding it strewn with rocks, big rocks. Everyone can make a mistake, this queen wants to help you learn what's really important, what has true value, and lead you to fulfillment. She can also, depending on where she shows up, be a bad omen, warning you of toxic relationships and a woman who seemed genuine, but is shallow and gossipy, catty even. The kind of woman who tears others down, to make herself look better.  She could be her own warning, this path looked sunny, but it isn't, perhaps you were lured with deceit. She is overbearing in this sense. 

Hearts are water, and aces are beginnings or sources. This one can be the beginning of love, a period of emotional stability and contentment. This is a happy card, a love note, troubles dissipating, a return to something or the rebirth of happiness.

Together, with the imagery of this deck, maybe someone you dismissed is still thinking of you. Maybe you believed something untrue of them, or were led to believe something bad about them. Without them, the path has been different than you were led to believe. Maybe you were pressured by subtle manipulation, maybe you believed on your own something untrue. The good queen, she wants to make it easier, she wants to be there for you, this feels very much like a triangle, in love or close emotional friendship. Perhaps you were "led astray," either by a person or a mindset. Whichever, it isn't going as well as you thought. 

Water is beautiful, to me, in all forms. I'm a moving fresh water kind of girl, I love rivers and streams, and waterfalls. Both fast flowing, and gently lapping rivers are among my favorite sounds. Maybe you heard a waterfall, and were intimidated by the force of nature, and were distracted by an oil slick on asphalt. The colors are beautiful, that swirly, shifting midnight rainbow. It's also very shallow. And toxic. And easily washed away.

Take care of yourself, and practice random kindness, you never know how much it might mean to someone.

Also, I got that amazing toast stuffy as a gift. It's huge! My friends are awesome. Talk to you in 2021!

The Letter

I wrote this to him, obviously. I read it to him and gave it to him on the date above, the first time we hung out, after the first time we spoke in person after he broke up with me. Thats the conversation that I learned she never knew I existed, at all. That she didn't know he was in a relationship, after months of talking, and beginning to hang out in person.

She's not the reason I lost him. That's all me. He doesn't love me the way that I love him. He fell out of love. He just didn't tell me until she came along. I guess I'm more surprised that he ever loved me. She didn't know I existed.

She didn't know I had told him I didn't believe in forever, but he made me want to. He told her the day after we talked. He went to see her. In person. Not by text.

She was okay with it. She assumed he was seeing other people, or talking to other people. Which is different, to me, than being in a committed, monogamous relationship. One of the many things I don't understand, embracing a relationship that began with a lie. A lie of omission, but still a lie. But, we are clearly very different women. 

This isn't really about that. I gave him this, and he said nothing, that he had to ponder. After he told her that I existed, and when he broke up with me, he said I was important, and he wanted to rebuild our friendship and trust.

While dating her.

And that it would be okay. He was sure of it.

Well, yeah. Okay for him.

I've never varied.

I'm in love with him.

I didn't break anything. 

I shouldn't have to prove myself.

He believes what happened wasn't cheating. 

Maybe he's right.

My mental health crisis is not his fault. There is a physical cause. It started before the breakup, when I lost my teeth. Which doesn'tmean his actions didn'tcause damage. He's apologized for his handling of everything. And thanked me for calling him out, and holding him accountable. 

I know, if you've been following me, you know all of this. I know I've been a train wreck. I just feel so lost. And confused. And disposable. And unlovable. In the After conversations he to me I was none of these things. And yet....and yet.

Our last conversation was on the phone, and I asked if we were going to talk. He said we just kept saying the same things over and over. But, he hasn't said anything since that letter I thought he was pondering.  Nothing. I got mad. I hung up. I thought maybe something might change. Not back to what we were.

I still cry everyday. From the good morning I don't send until I get to work. As I drive past the house where his offspring lives, where he sometimes is, staring straight ahead so as not to look for his car. Odd twist of fate, I've spent a lot of time in that house in my life.

I've lost my boyfriend. I've lost my friend. I've lost my comfort. I've lost my sense of safety. I've lost my sense of what is to come. I've lost some self esteem. I've lost my sense of trust. I've lost being able to believe when people say nice things about or to me. I've lost security. I've lost trusting my senses. 

Some of it is mental health, some is damage.

I miss him. I miss my friend. I miss my lover. I miss his laugh, and the way he crinkles around the eyes when he really smiles. I miss talking to him about mechanical stuff, the worn gear is one of the last pics I sent to him, a piece of one of my machines that should not be a stepped gear, in all it's steel glory. I miss his scent. I miss his skin. I miss holding his hand.

I know that anything from here would be like meeting again, square one. People keep telling me the man I'm in love with exists only in my head. But I know him. I know him.

And I'm confused.

And still hurt.

I told some of you that I walked away, and I have. I'm not forcing him to interact with me. I'm not messaging him. I'm not calling him.

It doesn't mean it's what I want, or I'm okay with it. A lot of damage has been done. I don't know what I want, but the complete silence from him feels punitive and cruel. Dismissive.

I miss the glow of his sun on my horizon.

I really miss stupid memes.

And food videos.

And kisses.

I'm working on a new project.

I'm trying to stop talking about this. I've screamed my throat bloody and spilt the blood from the heart ripped from my chest and it doesn't matter. Nothing, ever, in my life has made me feel like I mattered less. Like my feelings matter less. So hopeless, and helpless, and pointless.

That feels worse from the friend I guess I lost.

 

7 of Clubs, King of Spades, and Stuff

 The suit of clubs is representative of fire, achievement, business, ambition, communication, information, knowledge. Clubs want to consider things, think things through,  and Know. Like, for sure, in definite. Spades are air, gossip, upsets, challenges, messages. The sickle which has become a spade can symbolize physical work, hands on stuff.

The seven if spades represents success in business, anxiety or problem in love. Not only that, it's a problem the seeker cannot resolve, it's in another's hands.

(Laughing/sobbing hysterically....)

Kings are generally represent actual men, older and/or dark haired, of an airy nature or sign. This one is looking back, so it's someone well known before now. If it's not an actual man, well, it's a human working at cross purposes to you, someone who wants what you have, someone intentionally being or placing an obstacle to your goals.

What does this mean for me? 

I have no relationship, but a lot of anxiety about love. My job is changing, for the better, with a raise. I'm good at it. I am unsure of the meaning of the king. I get no intuitive pull from this one, today. I don't feel cock blocked by Darth Vader (if thepic isn'ton the blog yet, they're Star Wars playing cards.) I don't know if anyone wants me to fail. I don't particularly have any goals. I want the man back, but I'm not fighting anymore. I fought until exhaustion, and it's not up to me, tricksy 7 of clubs. 

We are still at no contact since I left it up to him. I relinquished control.

We never had a fight, but I don't want anyone to think I have some kind of idealized, candy apple vision of our relationship. I wanted more. Something changed during the first quarantine. I stayed away for 8 weeks, like I was supposed to. Maybe it's my fault because of that. I never spent a holiday with him, or met his parents. We went on one weekend trip, with the one friend of his he introduced me to. I did feel like I was a dirty secret. He never even implied he was with anyone, no pics of matching beer glasses. He never took me to the place he liked to hang out. He took me near it. We walked by it a couple of times. True, I don't know much about beer, but I'm not one to denigrate the things my partner likes, and I really did want to learn more about this thing he loves. I never told him that. Another fail on my part. The things I haven't forgiven? Telling me at first that my anxiety caused him to leave. Not mentioning to her that he was in a committed relationship, while talking to her constantly, for a couple of months, even when we were together, that whopping one night a week that I got. Not having a conversation with me, instead of crushing me out of the blue with a text message. Not wanting to try. Spwnding one of the most traumatic days of my life with her, somewhere else he lives but never took me, the day he said he wasn't giving up, though I didn't know that until recently.I can't make him love me. He did once, I think. He never said it, so I guess he didn't lie. I just sound dumber and dumber the more I go on. I gave him a lot of leeway, and I trusted the words he did say, because he doesn't say many. I trusted his actions. And he told me he wasn't giving up on me, and that we had time.

If you are wondering, yes, I know I repeat myself, in writing and conversation. It means I feel I haven't been heard. Yeah, I hate it, too. Sometimes things go around and around in my head and out of my mouth until I can make sense of it and find closure. I can't understand this. I can't believe my friend treated me like this. Though, I suppose, karmically, he's good. He lost nothing he wasn't trying to. I miss him.

My feelings haven't changed, except now I'm just sad. Still in love with someone who doesn't feel the same way. I've never fought for something so hard, to be so disregarded. A boyfriend might do that, but my friend did that, too. I don't think he's hurt, or embarrassed, or ashamed, though those things have been suggested to me. 

I know I can't do anything. I've always been honest about how I feel. Open. I don't want to make him react to me, he apparently doesn't want to act.

It's not getting easier. For me.

And it doesn't matter. 

And that is devastating. 

Aces Redundant

 

I did a card pull today, from the Cartomancer Cards poker deck and the Tarot Del Toro. These are essentially the same card. A fire card, the epitome of fire, being an ace. In traditional cartomancy, the ace of clubs can be either wealth and gain or a marriage, or binding contract. The ace of wands is the element of fire in transition, things have to burn to regrow. Or inspired consciousness and the desire to grow, to begin. Planting new seeds. New beginnings, creativity, initiative, balancing, energy.  Take from that what you will.

I'm an intuitive reader. I know the technicalities, but sometimes they don't feel right. For a person, or situation. These were for me, though anyone can take anything from them, if they feel right. Pretty sure there's no marriage here. So, creative endeavours it is. I will be writing more little fictions here, and posting more card pulls and music stuff, as well as the personal bits. 

As for personal bits, someone drove 6 hours to have dinner with me. That was nice, and appreciated. I got a super awesome new coffee maker for Christmas. I love it. And my sharky gifts. My birthday is soon. Like, a week from tomorrow.

He was my ace of fire, so I'm not sure what this means. He is a fire sign, tripled. I miss him, of course. But maybe I was a fool the whole time. I never got to see him on a holiday, except for last new year's eve, which we were alone, in bed for. I never got to be tagged anywhere with him. I never got a post on insta with two beer glasses and a meal shared. I've said before I felt hidden, like a secret shame, almost. I didn't meet his other friends, so i couldn't interact with them on social media. I was just, nothing. I guess now he can do these things. She's pretty and fit and apparently shareable. I've left contact up to him, and there has been none. I haven't even looked at all of the del Toro deck, because I relate looking at new cards with him. I have, in fact, looked at that one above. I feel forgotten and disposable. Like I was never anything special. I'm certainly easy to move on from, and that hurts. I guess he doesn't want to be my friend anymore. I guess I can't blame him. I'm working on wishing him happiness with her. I'm really trying. He has it, whether or not I wish it.

I just wish I could understand. Or feel anymore like I was worth anyone's love. If someone you've been friends with for so long can't love you, who can? Maybe he just wants me to shut the fuck up about him. I don't know. My truth is this, I still say good morning every morning, which means more. I still want to send him things. I still miss him sending me silly shit, because it meant he thought about me. Maybe I was always a fool. It's hard, not reaching out to him. Really hard. This is worse than losing a friend to death. Most of the friends I've had that died did not do so willingly. This has been a complete rejection. Complete. Maybe he needs time. Like I said, I don't know. Such pretty words about rebuilding trust and friendship, oh, while he's dating someone else. Knowing what I want, I was supposed to be okay with this. Maybe I can't even get that anymore. My trust was broken. My heart was broken. But I'm supposed to be okay with everything.

The silence again feels cruel and dismissive. Maybe it's supposed to.

I don't know.

I really don't know.

Always

 I know you may be tired of this. I know I am. This is going to be a bit of a ramble, perhaps get a beverage and settle in, if you are going to stick with me here.

So, I've been suffering a mental health crisis, that I've been semi open about. I realized not too long after the breakup that I wasn't handling things like me. I've suffered from depression since I was 16, PTSD since I was 18. I lost my health insurance in 2016 when I quit my job to care full time for my grandmother with dementia, to keep her in her home until she died. I didn't realize how little support I would have in that endeavour. So, I was unmedicated until October, except I had a heart attack in 2018. During this mental health crisis, I learned how nearly fatal it was. I honestly didn't know. So, I thought I was having another heart attack on October 4, I went to the ER. I wasn't having a heart attack. A very helpful ER doctor and a complete jackass cardiologist told me a few options for healthcare, and the ER doc helped me get established with an organization. So. Done. I've been tachycardic, my resting heart rate was around 110-115, since my heart attack, and I had constant pain from Dressler's Syndrome, which is a fancy way to say your heart hurts. Every day since my heart attack. Until October 4 this year. There were nights I was terrified to go to sleep, because I thought I wouldn't wake up. The thing is, I could get my medecine for free, but I do pay for it, because I can, and that little bit of money could help them help someone else. My prescriptions are inexpensive, it was seeing a doctor that I couldn't manage, with the associated costs of lab tests and such. All taken care of now. For now, anyway. Background, I don't want pity or sympathy. ever. The mental health crisis started when I knocked my 4 front bottom teeth out, in September. It was hugely damaging to my psyche. I'm not a pretty girl, never have been. But, damn. I actually broke them at the bone and had to have them removed. I fucking hate it. I wear a thing in my mouth. No one would know if I didn't tell them. Also, my PTSD was upgraded to CPTSD due to the experience with my Gramma, and two and a half years of caring for her, watching her slip away slowly then all at once. There's a lot of mental illness on my paternal side. Yada yada.

This crisis didn't happen because of the unexpected and shattering break up. 

But I kept trying to explain to a couple of people that something was wrong, like something snapped in my brain. I have always been the queen of walking away. If people don't want to be in my life, I don't want to force them. I want them all to be happy, over there (points in nay direction away.) I hope they win the lottery, so they can be happy. Over there. I wish no one ill, usually. I hope they live happy lives that don't intersect with mine.

Turns out, I wasn't handling things correctly. Something snapped in my brain. I've had scans and neurological stuff I don't want to talk about yet. PTSD is actually brain damage. My brain wasn't working right. I've had pretty intensive therapy and psychiatrist and neurologist stuff. I'm handling it all on my own. extreme independence is a trauma response. I know. Don't tell my fucking mother. I got this. Don't worry her.

During the (still occasional) suicidal bit, I made arrangements with 2 people I love to do something so that my Mom would think I was loved, and well liked, and memorable, if something happened to me. One of them is in constant physical pain, and the other is dealing with her own shattering, heart breaking problem right now, and I feel like a bbitch for even asking. I love them both so much, but I can;t do anything to help. I wish I could help. 

I wish I knew what people really thought of me, and remembered. What they would say if I was gone. If I made a difference. Oddly, two people from my past have contacted me recently, both people I'm shocked even know who I am. I'm a background human. People have told me nice things since I've been going through this. That's what friends are supposed to do. I just wish I thought it was true. But that seems like vanity bordering on hubris. I dunno.

Wow, this sin't going where I thought it was.

So, not handling things well, or with any semblance of me. 

But, here's the thing, the queen of walking away has found a human she can't walk away from. Honestly. I feel that strongly about the man that I lost. I've talked about it with professionals ad nauseum. They've watched my brain while asking questions. This bit is true. But he walked away from me. Still, miss is not a sufficient word. We were friends for such a long time before he kissed me. I wasn't dating, and he kissed me. My heart was damaged, and the best man I've ever known kissed me. we pursued each other. I fell in love. Then Mint Chocolate Chip happened. (It's an earlier blog post.) And most of the posts after, in varying degrees of pathetic and crazy.

I am just that in love with him. 

The last time I spoke to him, I was angry. He said we were just saying the same things over and over, but he was saying nothing. He had said before that he wanted to be friends. I want more. I want what we had, but better. I told him in a message after that that I was tired of feeling like I was begging for attention, and any contact is in his hands. I miss the day to day conversations. I miss him sending me things. I miss everything about him. Part of me wants to be his friend, just so I can be close to him. That just hurts differently. 

I have so many questions I want answers to. I want him to want to talk to me. I want to know if he misses me, or if he thinks he dodged a bullet. I want to know if he thinks about me. I've heard nothing at all since I left contact up to him. Maybe he's giving me time and space. Maybe he's given up. I wish every day for a random good morning. Maybe a Merry Christmas. He doesn't love me, like I love him. I know this. I tried all I could do to convince him to please give us a chance. I deluded myself into thinking he was considering it, because he said he was pondering. I spilled so many words, like blood and tears. I don't think any of them mattered at all. I wish I was the priority he said I was, but I think I've fucked up even that chance. My brain is much more "normal." Like other people's brains work. I'm not stuck in my feed back loop. I still have the worthless feeling, and I'm feeling even more rejected. I don't know. I just want him to really talk to me. Fuck, I really want to talk to him about where the new Costco is going to be. That's some shit right there.

Maybe I am more rejected. Deeds not words.

I'm tired of being sad. And this is sad. The depression is still there, but one of the most useful things that a therapist ever taught me is that sadness has a  definable cause, depression is when everything is overwhelming and you can't pinpoint a reason. I'm so fucking sad. I don't know what to do. I won't send him a link to this. I doubt he'll ever see it. I doubt he'll ever see me. I can't much blame him. But I won't beg. 

You know the song Shameless by Billy Joel? It's like that. Really. And I'm lost. And I want him to reach out. But I can't make him do that. 

I need to wrap my Mom's presents. Merry Christmas, and happy holidays, if you celebrate. 

Thanks for reading. Leave comments if you wish.

After all this time? (I know it hasn't been THAT long, it just seems it to me.)

Always.

The Starless Sea

 I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel

I focus on the pain

The only thing that's real

The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting

Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt.

So, this is my new tattoo. I actually enjoy the feeling of being tattooed. I've wanted this one for a year, but started making actual plans for it in October. Spoke to an artist, made an appointment, etc. If you haven't read the book The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern, you should. I read it the week it came out in November 2019. Then I read it again. It's a story about stories, in the loosest terms. It hits a number of my important life themes. I went out and bought a hardback copy to share with James right after I read it, and he isn't a huge reader. The imagery is stunning.

If you know me, you know that I have a thing about choices, doorways, and crossroads. Each one is always a choice, choice is sacred, the only thing we can control is our own choices. My love and consideration of every door has led to a love of keys, and doorknobs. This book speaks to me on a level I cannot properly express. I looked at art and artists intensely to find one local to me that could do what I wanted. I spoke to a couple who told me what I wanted wasn't what I wanted. After many emails, phone calls, and a consultation, I decided on Emily Page at Rat-A-Tat-Tat's in downtown Cary. Her art is amazing, and can be so delicate. Sebastian, who handles the emails and phone provides amazing customer service, and comes across as patient, and non judgemental of the crazy. The shop is cute and clean and unintimidating. They are taking every possible safety precaution.I love tattoos, and tattoo shops, but some are intentionally dickish and can make people feel less than for what they want. 

The bee symbolizes community, industry, personal power, spring and summer and flowers, the goddess and fertility, sweetness and honey, you can follow a bee to a new destination. Bees are always a positive symbol. Bees are omens of good luck and prosperity.

The key is an opener of locks. It can be freedom, or the safekeeping of something sacred or precious. It's a moment of pause, to contemplate a door. They are symbols of gateways and choice, mystery, knowledge, initiation, growth via unlocking. Gatekeeper deities keep sets of keys as symbols. Different keys do different things. The correct corresponding key is required for each lock. If you have the key, you can access a new path or room. A key is access.

The sword is a symbol of might and strength. Power and authority. It can be seen as a phallic symbol, with it's corresponding sheath being the yonic. In alchemy, they are the symbol of purification.

What do they mean in The Starless Sea? There are three paths. The acolyte. The guardian. The keeper. They all involve you reading the book.There are owls and muffins and cocktails and door knobs and deception and books and pirates and labyrinths and masks and libraries and video games and tea and snow and ice and a dollhouse. A lot of people really dislike the book, I find the bad reviews as illuminating as the good ones.  I loved her first novel, and an NPR interview led me to getting this one the day it came out. I can't really explain what the book means to me, how it affected me.

It's a story of time and fate and struggle and beauty and loss. I was in a completely different place when I decided I wanted a personalized version of this. There is a sentence that makes me ugly cry, every time that I read it. Which has been a few now. The struggle seems unbearable. The losses and gains unimaginable but the bit that gets me, why this is here, on me, so that I can see it? This is by most tattoo standards upside down. It is for me and me alone, even if it is my most visible tattoo now.  It is a reminder. For me. That line? it's after the spoiler alert. It's your choice to read from there.

On a relationship note, I suppose there is none. It's been a week since I've seen his face. A week since I've had the lingering scent of his skin on mine from a hug. I miss memes and videos that he thought I'd like, or that he wanted to share to make me smile. I miss knowing he was thinking of me. Maybe he doesn't.  It's been 4 days since I sent a good morning. Which has always meant i love you and I choose you. I really want to run to him, to share this with him. To get that giant hug, be wrapped in him. I did send him a message on Sunday, with a blog link, and saying that this is in his hands now. Rebuild, or whatever may come. I've fought with every fiber of my being for months. I don't know what happens now. I release any semblance of control. Which doesn't mean anything has changed about how I feel. It hasn't. He's not a bad man. He's a very good man. He handled a situation badly. So have I. I love all of him. Even mistakes. Not that breaking up with me was a mistake for him, I believe he stands behind it. I wish I knew what he really thought. I may never. Or, nothing has changed from the original, devastating, statements that he made. I deluded myself into thinking he was considering my words. I asked for a choice, he had no intention of restating. I don't know.

Miss is a highly insufficient word.

I will still say good morning. Every morning. Which means more. I'll just say it aloud.

SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER

This book could be a tragedy so easily. The line that makes me cry?

"He never expected a happy ending."

When I first read it, I was in a completely different place, I thought , just maybe, I'd found that unexpected happy ending in the man that took my breath away. Things are different now. I have no clue what the future holds. My present isn't very happy. I'm still shattered and damaged and so fucking confused how exactly this is where I am. I desperately wanted that happy ending that I thought I had found the beginning of. I needed it. You know what else the book reminds me of?

To keep seeking.

So I will try. I will look at this tattoo, and remember that.

Ugh. Expanded.

 I've been up all night, sobbing and vomiting and heaving when I was empty.

I didn't send good morning to him this morning. I had returned to that, as a way to touch him, reach out. I still thought it. Good morning, James. I love you. 

Last night I called him. For the second time I said angry words. I have said so many words, and gotten no response, so he could process. 

See, I thought maybe I'd made a difference. Maybe we were getting closer to...a return. Nope. His words apparently still stand. He doesn't love me. I never had a chance.

When I lost my teeth, it was one of the most traumatic days of my life. I sent him a message asking not to give up on me. He said he wasn't, with a heart. I knew he had gone to Umstead that day. I didn't know she was with him.

He says he didn't cheat on me. He believes that. Maybe I'm wrong. He talked to her constantly for months and spent that day with her, but never told me about it. I'm not clingy or jealous in general. A lie of omission is still a lie.

When we talked about where to go, he wanted to rebuild a friendship with me, and date her. I asked if he thought this wS okay, and he always said yes. Y'all know how I feel about him. He's heard it more. I love him. I'm in love with him. I want to be with him.

He does this thing, I don't know how conscious he is of it, but he poses. He's above average gorgeous. He glows like the sun. Like, stop and stare level. If he knows he's being looked at, he poses. The last time we hung out, he posed. For me. He also moved so I couldn't accidentally touched him. I thought I had a chance.

I can't be his friend when I crave his touch. I dream about kissing him, and being wrapped in him. I crave it with my whole body and being. I want him.

I have no words for what I've done. I want to apologize. I hung up on him. An unfinished conversation. Maybe it was.

I love him. I'm in love with him. I want to be with him. I want to talk to him. I want to hear about his work. I want to make him laugh. I want to see the things that make him laugh, or think of me. I want all of him. 

I think he's mad at me.

He said he would make me a priority.

I'll probably only get silence from this point from him.

He doesn't love me.

I'm a fool for thinking I was worthy of him.

I'm just, a fool.

I love him.

But.

I. Won't. Fucking. Crawl.

Addendum:

I don't know what to do, but I know that he shouldn't get to keep my loyalty and adoration if I'm going to be without the physical that I crave. If he wants to rebuild anything, he'll have to make the effort to match his words. My actions vs words have been consistent. He said rebuilding with me, a friendship, was a priority, but I've asked for time and made plans. Which is a softening and a hardening of position. I know that my misplaced faith and hope have made me look a fool. I guess I thought his actions gave me hope when I was getting no words. It was my failing. Not his.

 For this.

Addendum 2:

I didn't send Good morning again today. Though I picked up my phone and thought it.

Good morning, James. I love you. I hope you have a lovely day.

In case I didn't make it clear, he has apologized for how he handled this situation. 

He's not in love with me. He has no interest in being in love with me, I suppose.

I guess I wanted to be worth some effort. I know it's only been a couple of days since I hung up on him. I don't know if he's mad. I shouldn't care.

But there's a giant James shaped hole in my life. Feels like it's in my being. And it's empty. 

I know how fucking pathetic I seem in all of this.

I think he's worth it.

But I can't change anything.

I can't.

I generally write these stream of consciousness style, but I'm actually working on Tuesday night's epic post. Epic. It requires research. And is looking to be long as fuck.

Thank you for sticking with me.

And good morning, James.

If you see this.

Even if you don't. 

Rainy Night Thoughts

 I know that I don't usually post this often, it is what it is. It helps me order my thoughts, sometimes. I hurt my own feelings tonight. In my excitement about the new tattoo appointment, I looked at instagram, which I haven't done. And I got to see that she posted kissy faces to him, and it was like falling. Like a pit opened under me. Again. Partially, I wish I had been secure enough to do it. Heart eyes are why I left Instagram in the first place. But I really always kind of thought that he didn't want anyone to know about us. I don't know if he reads these, but I haven't said and I'm not going to say anything that I haven't said to him. I've been open and clear about how I feel. 

Our first conversation after he broke up with me, I learned that she never knew that he was dating anyone. We'd been together for over a year, but he just never mentioned me. His work was fucked up and the world was fucked up. I'm not trying to make excuses for him, nor do I want to make him look bad. I'm in love with him, still. There are some other things, but the people that I've confided in and sought advice from, those that know him are surprised, because this is not like him. At all. The way this happened is an aberration. I expressed to him that the fact that he wanted to pursue a relationship with someone that started in deceit seemed contradictory to the man I've known for 17 years. I have asked, and he has said, that I didn't do anything to cause this. I don't have anything to make up for. I knew something was off, but I thought we were headed for a conversation, not just goodbye. I thought I was worth a conversation, not a changing story. So i don't exactly know what is true. He wants to rebuild a friendship with me, and date her. Knowing that I want to be with him, fully. Better than we were. Communicating more. I'm just supposed to be okay not being able to touch the man I didn't wrong in any way. We've been hanging out. I love our time together, I love talking to him, I love hearing his thoughts, I love everything about it, except the bit where I can't hold his hand, or kiss him. I'm just as comfortable as I was, except I want to touch him. I want it all back, not at once, but I want it all. Better. I know a lot more about myself now than I did then, I know that seems crazy, but it's been a hell of a couple of months, starting with the realization that I wasn't handling this situation "correctly." I really don't want to go into that right now, it's an ongoing process. I refer to my support group, I actually made a support group in messenger, people I trust implicitly, people that I know love me. They are my sounding board to help keep me grounded. They are my touchstone. I appreciate all of them. A few of them don't get along, and a few of them are fighting their own battles, but they are my tribe. The people I trust. 

So, I'm fighting for this thing. I just want the chance that was taken away without conversation when he started a relationship with someone else. I'm not naive, or delusional. I've seen the specialist. Hell, I've seen pictures of my brain. I have no idea how he feels about the things I have expressed in hurricanes and blizzards of words, I've gotten very few back as of yet. He ponders. I'm trying to act more normal in every day life.

We all want that John Hughes movie moment, right? That one moment, that one kiss, when you know that a choice has been made. That surge of happy. Choice is sacred, but I actually asked him to choose to give us the chance he unilaterally took away. I don't miss having someone, I miss him. Still. We chat. We hang out. But I want all of it. I'm not usually jealous, but the thought of them together really fucking hurts, because I wanted to be worth that conversation, that acknowledgement of an issue, that chance at working it out. I want to scream that I need him to choose me, but I can't push. What if I lose him totally? That's crushing. Yes, I can hear one of you saying that if it can be destroyed by the truth, then it should be. But that means that the truth is I'm not even worth that conversation, that chance. I've said before that I have forgiven him for almost everything. I just want him to give us a chance, but I don't know how to make up for something I didn't do wrong, but I feel that's what I'm trying to do. I just want him to choose to give us a chance, without her as a consideration. Yes, I hear your groans and disagreement.

I know him. Many have heard me say that he is the best man I've ever known. People make mistakes, and fuck up, and people do change. Seventeen years. I want to be with him. I'm in love with him. I know him. And even now, I trust him.

I'm not doing this for manipulation, or guilt, or anything other that getting the words out of my head. Explaining, I guess. I used to get accused, a lot, of trying to manipulate with my true feelings, even with logic. Or silence. Or speaking. I know that I have always had self esteem issues. There's a lot of therapy and medical help on my current path. Like I said, I understand a few things that I didn't before, about me. I even know which part of my brain reacts when I think about him, visually. I just feel like I'm stuck in limbo.

There are plenty of pretty words about him in previous posts. All of those are still true for me. So for now, I hope, and have faith. Faith in the man that I know.

(I'm not an idiot. I realize that my faith may be misplaced, that this interlude of comfort and hanging out, I could lose that, too. Pretty sure that that would be my choice to make, watching the person you love and want to be with whole heartedly, fall for someone else, while wanting to keep the friendship bits of your relationship would be devastating to me. It's not like I could be happy for him, knowing that I wasn't even worth trying to work things out. I feel cheated. Not just cheated on, but cheated out of what I had, with no notice. This is in no way a mutual separation. I love him. All of him. For more reasons that I have words for. He fascinates me. I'm in love with him. I want to be with him. I choose him, a chance at a return to us, every day. Consciously. With much consideration.

Here, have a meme.

Mariah Carey makes me a bit nauseous, but.... All I want for Christmas is him....

(Enjoy the ear worm.)

Maybe the potential of someone else will always be better than the reality of me. Emotions aren't magic. Relationships take effort. And choice. 

Rainy Day Thoughts

 One of the reasons I've always doubted whether I'm as lovable or less disposable than other people is odd, but has been a constant in my life. Again, I'm not looking for sympathy, and I damn sure don't want pity, for fucks sake. Just therapy things, but something I've actually known how to articulate for a while. First, let's review what art, and making means to me. Art is life. Creation is life. Beauty is everywhere. I love to make things and create gifts for people. I truly do. I think about the recipient, and it's very intentional. It may be a love language thing, but I equally value time as well, and touch from very specific people. No touchy, for the vast majority. I love gifts that are given to me that made people think of me. I don't think people think of me much, at all. 

Okay. So in all of my important relationships, I've gotten to hear about things done for exes, or see things made for them, or friends. Like, I used to walk 4 hours to see this girl. Before single color christmas lights were available, I spent 8 hours replacing all of the bulbs in a string with a single color so she could have what she wanted. Look at this beautiful jewelry thing I made for a friend, with one of your favorite motifs. It's not all about making, but the thought put into things as well. Those are all real examples, but I didn'r get things like that. I don't want to ask for things to be done for me. It's that thought and time that I cherish. I don't want to ask why I wasn't worthy of that time and thought. I know plenty of reasons why. It's just something that I carry nside of me, a desperate wish that I was worth that time. That somebody made something for me, thinking about me. But I'm a background human. Maybe I'm too accepting? Too, there?   I would like to believe that I'm missed, that I'm thought of, that somebody made art for me. Unintended italics, don't feel like fixing it. But that seems petty. I do have little things that made people think of me. And maybe my love of art is irrational. Who know? But it does contribute to making me feel... less than.

Also, art related, I'm glad that I didn't have the money to get all of the tattoos that I wanted when I was younger. I'm working on getting some now, I have an appointment for the most important one I've ever gotten coming up. No, I won't tell you what it is. I will tell you that it is going to be "upside down" so it faces me, because it is for me. I'm already planning what is going next to it. And on the corresponding opposite bit of my body. It will also be the most visible of any of mine. And the second smallest. I'm so excited. My tattoos, so far, are about the art, not meaning. This one is mostly meaning. I'm crying thinking about it. And what it means to me.

A couple of notable exceptions to the things done for me whine...Stephen wrote a novel based on a character based on me. I never doubted how he felt about me as a human. Someone did drive 8 hours or so to roll around naked with me, who hadn't ever done that with me before, after 8 years or so of flirting. He was the first person I ever talked to in a bar to intentionally hit on. True story. Suits and boots, man. They get to me. He has also sent me...things. So, I do realize that I get things. Which makes me feel...ungrateful and petty? Why don't I inspire that in romantic relationships? I really want to. Ugh. 

Off to do something super scary, in the rain. Vague, I know, but I am contradictorally very private and pretty open. It's a thing. It's something I can drive myself to and from, at least. It will be fine. 

Contradictory

 There are things that seem very contradictory about me. They make sense to me.

I think about the ramifications of choices, yet I frequently make decisions based on a magic 8 ball app. I identify as pagan, witch, with a big touch of hoodoo and voodoo. I know a myriad of deities, and I speak to them. I pray. Do I believe that they are sitting around somewhere, as depicted? Nope. I believe that they are identifiable aspects of personalities and concepts, and for me, prayer is visualization. I focus on explaining what I want or need, as if to a higher power, and it is clearer to me in my mind and mindset. I use cartomancy in the same way, it's a shift in perspective, it may make me see something in a different light, or from a different direction. I don't really beleive in fate, I believe in choice. Choice is sacred. The deities I pray to, and speak to? Mostly those of doorways and crossroads, and those tend to be the ones that focus on communication as well. Funny, that. All you have is your own choices. Make them deliberate. Or leave it up to a magic 8 ball. You still chose to do that, after all.

I have a couple of art type projects that I'm going to start writing down. When I was a wee sprout, after the debut of MTV, my brain had a vehicle to imagine things to go with music, little visual stories. I've done this my whole life. Sometimes it's choreography, Solid Gold style. Sometimes it's burlesque, which I love as an art form. I've always wanted to do it, but I'm not really attractive enough. I've always wanted to host it in a way that I haven't really seen it hosted, produce shows that are different than what I've seen. Different celebrations of the art form. I don't know how to do these things. Lately, I've been wanting to do a photography project, based on songs, I have the vision of what I want it to look like. But I would need models, and make up artists, and help making things. I know who I want to help with the making things, who could see this with me, but that is James, and that is still undetermined. I'm not good at makeup. Though I can see what i want in my head, another makeup point of view might make it better. The one I've been thinking about most, lately is the song Potions by Puscifer. Oddly, I would be the model for this one, which I've been wanting to do some of, lately. Which is new, for me. I know what I want the look to be. What shots I want. The thing is, if you are a part of any artist community, you know that artists, models, make up, hair, all of them deserve to be paid for their time and work, and I can't really do that. So, it would be the dreaded exposure, which I can't even really offer much of right now. I need to build a community of people who believe in the project, and would volunteer, for art's sake. I would absolutely pay if I could, even in the future, but that is a huge ask, and I fully understand how demeaning it can sound, so I'm stuck. Here's the song, if you are unfamiliar,  Potions. It's one of my favorite songs, it makes me wiggly in the pants bits. It seems like a bad breakup song, but it was written about the pain after someone dies. It's also a drug song. This is not how I feel about James, as my support group knows, as he knows, just to make that clear. I want every minute. I want more of them. My vision looks nothing like this video. It's black and white, and sexy, nad has horns and rhinestones and corset and boots. I have a dark burlesque number that lives in my head to this as well. Part of a show I'll probably never get to make real.

I'm going to rewrite my novel. I finished it over 20 years ago, I've rewritten it multiple times over the years. The characters and story have changed. One more again.

I have thrown a hurricane of words at James. I get very few back. Which is a part of loving him how and who he is. I can't say anything more, I don't think. I want another chance, though I didn't break this one. I realize I may not get it. He also made his choices. They say you don't get second chances, and that people don't change, but I don't believe either. People do change. I used to lie a lot. Because I was unsatisfied and bored. Now I value honesty. I did lie to him about something, I haven't been open with him about something else, about me, but I will. I haven't been completely forthcoming with my support group, yet, either, because I'm devastated and struggling. Turns out, I'm not just weak of mind. That is a story for another time. Maybe. I never want pity or sympathy. I don't want things given to me for those reasons. I don't want special treatment. I want things that I have earned.

I don't know what to do from here. I'm kind of just rambling. A few things that I do know:

I appreciate you for reading this.

I appreciate my support group.

There is no good way for me to feel supported right now. I know I am, but I can't believe it, or feel it. Which is weird.

I value your opinion. Though I make my own choices.

I asked for a choice this week. For someone to make one. I've never done this. Choice is sacred.

Another thing that I know. I want James. I want to be with him. I want him to want to rebuild something with me. Build something better. My feelings haven't changed. They are steady and true. I'm not being naive, or too trusting. I am neither of those things. My karma is clear in this situation, once I come totally clean. I'm afraid that the hurricane of words has blown him further away. But they are me, and my truth. I love him fully, with no reservations. I miss him like I miss the sun after days of rain. I know he's not a magic bullet that will fix everything. I know it won't be easy. But he is magic. As am I. And the potions thing, if there was a potion to make him be with me, instead of forget? I wouldn't take it. I want him in honesty and truth. Fully. Unabashedly. Whole heartedly. Openly. Truly. I can't explain in words, no matter how many of them there are. Me and my truth may not be enough. Just me may not be enough. All i can do is be me. I don't want to wait for years. I didn't break the thing. But I am trying to fix it. He may not want to. This is the first time I've lost someone this traumatically that wasn't by death. That I wanted back. Fully, not as something different, Well, I do want something different, a stronger romantic partnership. I am unabashed and unashamed. Of this, at least. My dead get a hurricane of words as well. But, this time, he can hear them. Or read them, as the case may be.

True

 I want to thank those who have been by my side this week. I found my support. I put my trust in my tribe. I took a couple of really hard steps. Forward, I hope with all of my being.

I am so grateful for you.

When I've had enough
I'll get a pickup truck and I'll drive away
I'll take my last ten bucks just as far as it will go
Sometimes I'm easily fooled
I take a painful step and I get knocked back two
I do what I can and it's all I can do

But I'm true
And if I had the choice I'd take the voice I got
Cause it was hard to find
You know I've come too far to wind up right back where I started
And they tell me who I should be
I'll never let those monkeys make a mess of me
I give all I am and it's all I can do

But I'm true
One more sunset
Lay my head down

True
One more sunrise
Open my eyes up

True
And then they talk you up and then they talk you down
And you begin to doubt
Sometimes the reasons seem so very far away
But I'd stop breathing today
Cause if I can't walk proud, I'd rather walk away
I do all I am and it's all I can do

But I'm true
I'd give all I am and I'd give it to you
True
So true

https://youtu.be/Ps1cfX68_Fw

And Aubrey Was Her Name

 I'm sorry. I'm sorry all of the time. I know that my apologizing is tedious. A post of the same shows that I know that I'm tedious. I know, you may tell me my brain is lying to me.

I want tho thank everyone that reads this, and everyone who has reached out. I really appreciate it. I am thankful for you.

I've been missing my friend Stephen a lot, lately. He was always there. I honestly knew to my core that he loved me, and believed me to be exceptional. He was always there with a hug. And he's gone. And I need him. When he told me he was dying, I hit him. I raged at him. The only promise he ever broke was not to die like his mother. Who drank herself to death. He drank himself to death. Leaving kids. Just like his mom. He used to do the farm report for the ag department every morning. He did it the day he died. He told me he was going to die and I screamed at him and hit him. He made me promise, when we were young, not to ever get my septum pierced, because that's what they do to hogs that  acted up and wouldn't stop rooting. Bad pigs. He promised me he wouldn't drink himself to death. Maybe I'll go get my septum pierced. Spite piercing. I'm still mad at him. I miss him everyday.

I'm not getting better. It's not getting easier. I feel crushed anew, every day, and there's nothing I can do. The one I love doesn't love me. I can't make him love me. I can't make him come back. I can't make him miss me. I can't make him want to try. I can't make him choose me. I can't make him talk to me. All I can do is miss. A hundred times a day. He would be my friend. But I can't right now. All i see is how I'm not enough. After a year and a half, he chose not me. He chooses not me every day. I've never felt like this. I've been in love. I've had break ups. I've never missed someone so much. Not even Stephen, It's not his fault he doesn't love me. But. He always told me we had time when I asked. And he took that away from me. I beleieved him. Not Stephen. James. I love him. 

I don't want things that aren't freely given. I don't want things out of obligation or guilt. I have always aspired to love so that my love makes others feel free, not like they are trapped. I wish I could say that I hope he's happy with someone else. I can't right now. He told me he was going to be single for a while. But he told me we had time. And that we were fine. And that he wasn't giving up on me. And yet. I can't be angry. I just...miss. And I hate that I'm so easy to walk away from, so easy to shut out, so easy to not choose. I'm ashamed for how I'm handling this. Ashamed and embarrassed. I worry I'm acting crazy. Therapist says if I'm worried about it, I'm not acting crazy. I love words, but I can't make them say what I actually feel. 

I feel like, more than ever before, I've ripped my beating heart out of my chest, been open, and honest, and vulnerable, and asked questions. And i'm not enough. My heart was weighed against the feather. I don't understand. 

I'm tired of crying. I cry all of the time. 

I see pictures of people I love, seeing each other, carefully. And no one wants to see me.

I need a hug. I need several hugs. I need support. I wish I didn't. 

I still want James. I still choose him. Every day. Unconsciously, then consciously, and I can't do anything. I can't do anything. I can't make myself lovable. I can't make myself worth being chosen. 

I can't listen to music. It hurts. I fucking lost it hearing Don't Dream It's Over by Crowded House on the radio the other day, one of my favorite songs. Because it's over. And there's nothing I can do. Turns out, I didn't have time. We didn't have time.

And every time I do this, I probably push him farther away. But I don't know how to say the things I need to say. And it doesn't matter anyway. I can't do anything. I'm not the right thing. He is for me. But I can't be.

Because something is wrong with me. Insert Wrong by Depeche Mode here. It would make me cry.

I've been off of social media, because it hurts. The fear of it hurts.

On a completely random note, I love giant stuffed animals. I have finally acquired one to big to snuggle with while sleeping. 

I am adding a song here. It's where my name came from.

In case you haven't heard it.

And Aubrey was her name,
A not so very ordinary girl or name
But who's to blame?
For a love that wouldn't bloom
For the hearts that never played in tune
Like a lovely melody that everyone can sing,
Take away the words that rhyme it doesn't mean a thing

And Aubrey was her name
We tripped the light and danced together to the moon,
But where was June
No it never came around
If it did it never made a sound,
Maybe I was absent or was listening to fast,
Catching all the words, but then the meaning going past,

But God I miss the girl,
And I'd go a thousand times around the world just to be
Closer to her than to me

And Aubrey was her name,
I never knew her, but I loved her just the same,
I loved her name
Wish that I had found the way
And the reasons that would make her stay
I have learned to lead a life apart from all the rest
If I can't have the one I want, I'll do without the best

But how I miss the girl
And I'd go a million times around the world just to say
She had been mine for a day