On December 30th, 2005, Emily caught her leg on the fence, tore it almost completely off and hung herself until she died.
It was probably the most gruesome experience of my life.
I found my own limitations as a human being and as a pet owner.
I'm sorry, baby.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Saturday, November 3, 2012
LIes and Breaking Each Other's Hearts
I went out with Lucky last night, and met up with him at a bar downtown Yuppieville. He was already drinking by the time I got there.
Everything was normal or usual in the beginning. WE just talked chit-chat, about our lives, who was doing what. Finally, the topic turned deep.
I asked him if there was ever a woman he trusted.
He said, "I never trusted you."
I asked him why.
HE said, "Remember that night you were in Santa Barbara..." He was talking about back in 2006 while we were still together, but fighting at the time.
He was referring to the night I was in Huntington Beach where I was visiting a client, and I was paid $500 for full service. Lucky called me while I was with the client. While returning Lucky's phone call, I lied about what I was doing that far south. I told him I was day catch riding.
Even then, he didn't believe me, but he let the subject drop at the time.
The next day, he dumped me.
He brought up many times over the years what I was doing that night--really--but I never answered.
Last night, I decided if he wanted to know the truth, perhaps he should although I couldn't see it doing anything but just more harm.
I left the bar without answering, again, about what I was doing that particular night, but it kept nagging at me.
I sent him a TXT-message, "Its a shame you don't trust me but for years I cared for you deeply and for years I felt guilty over that night. I was driving home from Huntington Beach when you called. I was paid to sleep with a man. I needed the money for car insurance. It was the first time I was paid for having sex. Now you know the truth. Do you feel better knowing?"
He sent a TXT-message back, "Yes thank you. I trust you more now."
That was an almost perfect response, but of course, he had to fuck it up.
He sent another hours later. "I am sorry for breaking your heart in the first place, and now I feel like I just break your heart even more every time we hang out, but I know what I felt at the time and I was right."
Everything was normal or usual in the beginning. WE just talked chit-chat, about our lives, who was doing what. Finally, the topic turned deep.
I asked him if there was ever a woman he trusted.
He said, "I never trusted you."
I asked him why.
HE said, "Remember that night you were in Santa Barbara..." He was talking about back in 2006 while we were still together, but fighting at the time.
He was referring to the night I was in Huntington Beach where I was visiting a client, and I was paid $500 for full service. Lucky called me while I was with the client. While returning Lucky's phone call, I lied about what I was doing that far south. I told him I was day catch riding.
Even then, he didn't believe me, but he let the subject drop at the time.
The next day, he dumped me.
He brought up many times over the years what I was doing that night--really--but I never answered.
Last night, I decided if he wanted to know the truth, perhaps he should although I couldn't see it doing anything but just more harm.
I left the bar without answering, again, about what I was doing that particular night, but it kept nagging at me.
I sent him a TXT-message, "Its a shame you don't trust me but for years I cared for you deeply and for years I felt guilty over that night. I was driving home from Huntington Beach when you called. I was paid to sleep with a man. I needed the money for car insurance. It was the first time I was paid for having sex. Now you know the truth. Do you feel better knowing?"
He sent a TXT-message back, "Yes thank you. I trust you more now."
That was an almost perfect response, but of course, he had to fuck it up.
He sent another hours later. "I am sorry for breaking your heart in the first place, and now I feel like I just break your heart even more every time we hang out, but I know what I felt at the time and I was right."
Friday, October 12, 2012
Romance At Its Finest
What Kean did was mild compared to what happened to me a few months ago.
I met an Army Ranger on Christmas Day 2010 while I was drinking at a local bar. My parents and I were not getting along at the time because I was dancing, and they didn't approve of my occupation so I spent my holidays downtown.
George and I only spoke to each other briefly, but we exchange numbers.
After that, I stayed contact with him through Facebook as he headed to Afghanistan, and served his country there.
When he finally finished his deployment, and commented that he was headed to my area again, I left a comment on Facebook for him to let me know when he was in town.
He kept calling me at three am.
His TXT-messages were just as rude.
"What R U doing?" He asks.
"Laying in bed. You?"
"Same!!! U should join me....Ok???"
I never responded to that.
I met an Army Ranger on Christmas Day 2010 while I was drinking at a local bar. My parents and I were not getting along at the time because I was dancing, and they didn't approve of my occupation so I spent my holidays downtown.
George and I only spoke to each other briefly, but we exchange numbers.
After that, I stayed contact with him through Facebook as he headed to Afghanistan, and served his country there.
When he finally finished his deployment, and commented that he was headed to my area again, I left a comment on Facebook for him to let me know when he was in town.
He kept calling me at three am.
His TXT-messages were just as rude.
"What R U doing?" He asks.
"Laying in bed. You?"
"Same!!! U should join me....Ok???"
I never responded to that.
Stood Up
I got stood up.
His name is Kean (names changed). He is in the class before mine, linear analysis. So, every day of the week, we pass by each other. I use his desk. We started out making polite conversation, and then one day, out of spunk, I asked him if he wanted to have a beer with me after I finished my midterm.
He said yes.
He's plain looking with no hair on his head except some facial, and he's not my type (no one is really my type anymore).
After several failed attempts, we never got together, some of which were my fault. I've been sick with the flu.
Finally, on Monday, I asked him if we could see each other on Tuesday. He said, "Yes!"
On Tuesday, I sent him a message saying that we needed to get together early (I preferred five o' clock), as I had to get up early in the morning. I never heard anything back until almost six o' clock. By that point, I had almost finished my beer at the bar.
His response was, "Dangit. My message didn't send." He claims that he tried contacting me earlier. He couldn't leave to meet up with me because he was in study group, and "it doesn't look like we are close to finishing."
He also explained that "when [it] comes down to it, [school] is my number one priority..."
He asked if he could make it up to me by taking me out to dinner on Friday (today), but I refused.
I also called him a liar, saying, "Just don't lie and say your message didn't go through...."
Besides that, he knew about the study group on Monday, and could have planned accordingly.
His name is Kean (names changed). He is in the class before mine, linear analysis. So, every day of the week, we pass by each other. I use his desk. We started out making polite conversation, and then one day, out of spunk, I asked him if he wanted to have a beer with me after I finished my midterm.
He said yes.
He's plain looking with no hair on his head except some facial, and he's not my type (no one is really my type anymore).
After several failed attempts, we never got together, some of which were my fault. I've been sick with the flu.
Finally, on Monday, I asked him if we could see each other on Tuesday. He said, "Yes!"
On Tuesday, I sent him a message saying that we needed to get together early (I preferred five o' clock), as I had to get up early in the morning. I never heard anything back until almost six o' clock. By that point, I had almost finished my beer at the bar.
His response was, "Dangit. My message didn't send." He claims that he tried contacting me earlier. He couldn't leave to meet up with me because he was in study group, and "it doesn't look like we are close to finishing."
He also explained that "when [it] comes down to it, [school] is my number one priority..."
He asked if he could make it up to me by taking me out to dinner on Friday (today), but I refused.
I also called him a liar, saying, "Just don't lie and say your message didn't go through...."
Besides that, he knew about the study group on Monday, and could have planned accordingly.
Friday, September 28, 2012
In the Past
I don't know what Morpheus did with all those crazy-ass voicemails I left him while I was psychotic.
He never returned them, and he never talked about them afterwards.
Okay. Moving on.
He never returned them, and he never talked about them afterwards.
Okay. Moving on.
The Silver Lining
I console myself with the fact that maybe if we were around each other every day, we would grow to hate each other like most couples.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Don't Laugh
When people laugh at the things I did while I was psychotic--I don't laugh with them.
I still have this guy I added on FAcebook because he lives in the same town Morpheus grew up so I magically knew that they were buddies and in the NSA together.
Yeah.
Okay. I laughed a little.
I still have this guy I added on FAcebook because he lives in the same town Morpheus grew up so I magically knew that they were buddies and in the NSA together.
Yeah.
Okay. I laughed a little.
The Bipolar Life (Schizoaffective, I Mean)
Imagine life without meds.
It's the land of milk and honey.
It's the land of milk and honey.
Today I Wonder
Today, I wonder why Morpheus doesn't love me--
Enough.
Or--
Is it at all?
I wait for the day when I don't care about either answer.
Enough.
Or--
Is it at all?
I wait for the day when I don't care about either answer.
The God of the Underworld
One of my best friends, Rosa, would remind me that I loved Hades, and therefore could love two people at the same time.
For reasons that are obvious to myself and the rest of the world, I like to shelve this fact. I like to shelve the entire relationship.
If you've ever washed dishes with hot water, hot enough to handle but burns underneath the gloves--that's what it's like to write about my last boyfriend.
Boyfriend?
For reasons that are obvious to myself and the rest of the world, I like to shelve this fact. I like to shelve the entire relationship.
If you've ever washed dishes with hot water, hot enough to handle but burns underneath the gloves--that's what it's like to write about my last boyfriend.
Boyfriend?
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
What I realized today is, people never really leave you, the ex's still follow you around, good or bad, and they guide you along the path as you face a new lover, and take his hand for the journey.
I remember so much from my last relationship (not the one I write about the most, but my last actual committed relationship), and I carry it with me. I know it's a large part of why I haven't gotten into another one.
Maybe we only have so many chances before we burn out--even though there are innumerable lovers who wait to show us better ways.
I hear frequently as acquaintances my age are getting married or into new relationships, as they seem happy, and I wonder if my lacking came from childhood--if I'm trapped to repeat some pattern etched from when I was a toddler. At the same time, I feel genuinely grateful. I have felt the powerful force of love, and its gifts. I will not leave this life without experiencing the heights of it.
I will just leave without knowing it last.
I remember so much from my last relationship (not the one I write about the most, but my last actual committed relationship), and I carry it with me. I know it's a large part of why I haven't gotten into another one.
Maybe we only have so many chances before we burn out--even though there are innumerable lovers who wait to show us better ways.
I hear frequently as acquaintances my age are getting married or into new relationships, as they seem happy, and I wonder if my lacking came from childhood--if I'm trapped to repeat some pattern etched from when I was a toddler. At the same time, I feel genuinely grateful. I have felt the powerful force of love, and its gifts. I will not leave this life without experiencing the heights of it.
I will just leave without knowing it last.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Nightmares During DAy
While I was going insane (literally a mental breakdown), I would see in my mind Tyson's (Morpheus's dog) throat being slit by the Wife--a video being played, over and over.
I watched her smiling face--daring me--asking me to join her in the bloodbath. To stop her. To encourage her. To do anything to break the helplessness that consumed me.
The Wife stood there, holding the dog's lifeless body, holding the knife.
She was unconquerable.
I watched her smiling face--daring me--asking me to join her in the bloodbath. To stop her. To encourage her. To do anything to break the helplessness that consumed me.
The Wife stood there, holding the dog's lifeless body, holding the knife.
She was unconquerable.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Between the Black Out
I wake up. It's dark. I'm stretched out on the couch with my head in his lap. He's eating from a bowl of popcorn. The TV is on.
I get up, and wander into the spare bathroom, and vomit into the toilet.
Later, the next morning, I will be completely naked with no recollection of how I became so. I never take my socks off for sex, but my feet were bare.
I get up, and wander into the spare bathroom, and vomit into the toilet.
Later, the next morning, I will be completely naked with no recollection of how I became so. I never take my socks off for sex, but my feet were bare.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
All the Words You Sold
"I love everything about you," he says while standing in his kitchen, a consolation prize for not saying, "I love you."
I'm drunk and confused and feel like crying.
I'm drunk and confused and feel like crying.
Monday, September 10, 2012
One Look
I saw him. Sitting in his truck, stopped at an intersection. He waved at me. For a moment, all those feelings rushed back.
I bargain with myself, I tell myself that I will never speak to him again, that he doesn't love me, that this cannot go on for years and years more. What to do with myself? Why endure the pain?
One look at his face, my resolve vanishes.
I bargain with myself, I tell myself that I will never speak to him again, that he doesn't love me, that this cannot go on for years and years more. What to do with myself? Why endure the pain?
One look at his face, my resolve vanishes.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Promise Me Sweet Nothings
My psychiatrist threatens me with possibility of immobility, that I will be right here in ten more years.
It is the most depressing of all thoughts.
"...flunking community college classes," he continues.
As if this will be my life, one large loop, the circle shrinking, smaller, tighter, strangling me until the day I wake up, fifty, still on federal disability money, one thousand dollars a month, just enough for eating and walking by the roadside--no job, no car, no career.
All beauty wasted.
Perhaps a pretty face could have bought me freedom from hellish poverty, then but in ten years, fifteen, time trampling on, gagging the ones it hates--ugliness is the prison we all spend.
Vanity--our handcuffs.
I'm not getting better, he laminates. There's no improvement, no incline in mood.
There's been a thief in the soul, but no arrests of the guilty party, no fingers pointed, no one to blame. I'm just the raped victim, the trail of blood behind me.
It is the most depressing of all thoughts.
"...flunking community college classes," he continues.
As if this will be my life, one large loop, the circle shrinking, smaller, tighter, strangling me until the day I wake up, fifty, still on federal disability money, one thousand dollars a month, just enough for eating and walking by the roadside--no job, no car, no career.
All beauty wasted.
Perhaps a pretty face could have bought me freedom from hellish poverty, then but in ten years, fifteen, time trampling on, gagging the ones it hates--ugliness is the prison we all spend.
Vanity--our handcuffs.
I'm not getting better, he laminates. There's no improvement, no incline in mood.
There's been a thief in the soul, but no arrests of the guilty party, no fingers pointed, no one to blame. I'm just the raped victim, the trail of blood behind me.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Choices on Wine
"TEll me it's over, I'll still love you the same,"
--"Call me," Shinedown
I walked out of the front door, hurt and upset, thinking, "Is this the end? He won't call..." The thoughts were swirling, much like my head.
"[5150]," he said behind me.
I turned my head but didn't stop. I get into the front seat of the SUV before I realized I was too drunk to drive.
He's standing there in the front yard, waiting for me.
I walk back towards him and when I'm close, he puts his arms around my shoulders.
--"Call me," Shinedown
I walked out of the front door, hurt and upset, thinking, "Is this the end? He won't call..." The thoughts were swirling, much like my head.
"[5150]," he said behind me.
I turned my head but didn't stop. I get into the front seat of the SUV before I realized I was too drunk to drive.
He's standing there in the front yard, waiting for me.
I walk back towards him and when I'm close, he puts his arms around my shoulders.
God is in the T.V.
"God is in the T.V."
--lyrics from "Rock is Dead" by Marilyn Manson
I was psychotic, sitting in my academic advisor's office, although I had no idea what was wrong. I couldn't tell him what was the matter, so he told me to write it down while he ran out into the hallway to talk to someone else briefly.
He handed me a notepad and a pen.
I wrote, "God is in the T.V." with a sense of irony and humor. And then left before he could come back.
--lyrics from "Rock is Dead" by Marilyn Manson
I was psychotic, sitting in my academic advisor's office, although I had no idea what was wrong. I couldn't tell him what was the matter, so he told me to write it down while he ran out into the hallway to talk to someone else briefly.
He handed me a notepad and a pen.
I wrote, "God is in the T.V." with a sense of irony and humor. And then left before he could come back.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Love Like That
"I wish you loved me like that," I said to MOrpheus, referring to how he loves his wife. I was near tears.
We were standing in his kitchen.
He looked pained, but did not reply.
We were standing in his kitchen.
He looked pained, but did not reply.
Loved Enough
I have loved enough, and when you have loved enough, said the kind words, stuck it out through the bad, you wonder when the end is coming, if there is the end, when should you quit.
There are the months of silence, the months of being on your own completely, when love then is just an idea or an illusion, a tale you keep telling.
If enough time passes, you go into mourning, and in this state, you are suspended, and you float, above the earth, feet high above the ground, untouchable, despite the drugs and the good will of friends and doctors. You stay here, forever.
Even when he comes back, you are still there, in purgatory of mourning because your heart knows he will just be gone again. And so you love, somewhere between heaven and hell, bouncing inbetween, chained to your own misery.
There are the months of silence, the months of being on your own completely, when love then is just an idea or an illusion, a tale you keep telling.
If enough time passes, you go into mourning, and in this state, you are suspended, and you float, above the earth, feet high above the ground, untouchable, despite the drugs and the good will of friends and doctors. You stay here, forever.
Even when he comes back, you are still there, in purgatory of mourning because your heart knows he will just be gone again. And so you love, somewhere between heaven and hell, bouncing inbetween, chained to your own misery.
Easier, Part II
"You're the greatest guy in the whole world to me. I love you.
I just want you to be happy.
Goodbye.
[my name]"
--my last email to Morpheus
I just want you to be happy.
Goodbye.
[my name]"
--my last email to Morpheus
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Goes Black
I will kiss him on the couch with a glass of Chardonnay in my hand.
I'm drunk.
After that, it's black.
I'm drunk.
After that, it's black.
Sleep
We go to sleep side by side, not touching except his leg crossing mine at the bottom of the bed.
I wonder briefly if I could live my whole life like that, in one crystallized moment.
I wonder briefly if I could live my whole life like that, in one crystallized moment.
Ox
He keeps writing, "I'm sorry," but I'd rather be slapped in the face. At least that, you can feel.
At least that is personal--me, you, the hand.
When I walk around, I can't feel anything but the mountain of sorrow upon my shoulders. Perhaps the sharp hit upon the face would give me something else to focus on, something else to ruminate over, a quick wound to heal.
What is "I'm sorry"? So empty, meaningless. Did you change? Did you bleed? Do you love me? Do you remember me in the night? Will you call and listen to my voice, only to hang up? I don't believe you and your sorry's. You don't know what you have done, sightless like an ox with blinders on. You stumble around, never looking where your feet are.
At least that is personal--me, you, the hand.
When I walk around, I can't feel anything but the mountain of sorrow upon my shoulders. Perhaps the sharp hit upon the face would give me something else to focus on, something else to ruminate over, a quick wound to heal.
What is "I'm sorry"? So empty, meaningless. Did you change? Did you bleed? Do you love me? Do you remember me in the night? Will you call and listen to my voice, only to hang up? I don't believe you and your sorry's. You don't know what you have done, sightless like an ox with blinders on. You stumble around, never looking where your feet are.
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