Dear Angeleyea,

Early mourning......

For myself..

As I left this morning, I heard a mourning dove cooing on the street lamp post in the front of our home.  I had to stop and marvel him for a moment before I left for my busy day.  I love mourning doves.  I used to love to be awakened by them first thing at my grandmother’s house when I was little.

Tonight as I sit watching television, I also notice you smile at the stupid commercials, and silly programs.  

Your smile could light a tunnel.  I don’t see that smile much anymore.  It's been taken from you and I don't know why.

Digging into your sacred niches of sunshine and looting the grin from your face. 

When I say I’m sorry for your sadness, it doesn’t begin to express the depth of my anguish for you.  I feel tired for you.  I recognize the drawn expression etched in your beautiful profile, and I taste the swallow of the tears that pool in the corners of your eyes,

                             burning and flooding 

                             your once rosy cheeks.

Half of you speaks in smiles.  The other half is paralyzed with the stain of your virtue, and the pluck of your shadow.  You are a fragment of the woman you were before that heinous reality of life knocked you down.

I fear you will never laugh genuinely again.   And I hate how your thoughts make you feel knowing that nothing you write, and no amount of tears will ever make a difference , or more importantly.......make you whole.  You're missing something.

Your father will never be sorry.  He will never be a victim.  He will never place value in or around you because he isn't here anymore for you.  I am saddened that his death has stripped you of your charisma, your dignity, and your carefree ability to love without regard.

But mostly,

               I grieve your heart, 

                                   with its relentless beat

that keeps you moving.

Because I know you want to curl up and cease to exist.

And as selfish as it is,

if it did stop pumping,

I would die.

I heard a mourning dove when I left the house today.

I’m sure he was singing your name.

Love Always....yourself.

The letter I never received....

The letter I never received......

While i was sorting through some of my father's old things, i found a letter that he wrote to me. It was very sloppy, but I forgave him of his terrible handwriting. It really bothers me that he wrote this but never had the nerve to give it to me.

Dear Angel,

I wanted to say I’m sorry.

Sorry for yelling.

Sorry for drinking.

Sorry for cursing.

Sorry for giving up.

Sorry for letting my soul die.

I want to explain why I walk away, and why I have to be right even when you're completely right about what's good for me.

It was never anything you did.  It wasn’t what you said.  It was everything you did and said.  I lump it all together, because I grow weary of being wrong.  Not wronged by you, just wronged by circumstance.  I need someone else to blame for every miserable thing I have endured.  You have no choice but to take that brunt.  I gave you no other.

I scream, “I’m the fucking adult, that’s why!”  But the statement contradicts itself, right?

I want to give you advice based on experience.  Mine.  But my advice sounds hollow to you.  How could it not through my drunken slur…..?

I give you everything you ask for, because it’s all I have to give you.  I have done you no favors by doing that.  And if I acquiesce to your every whim, how can you possibly give my bottle the evil eye?  It’s my twisted, manipulative trade off.

I want you to forget the times I have crawled that carpet soaking it with tears, and vomit.   Erase the memory of the wild look in my eyes as I scream, and spew vile profanity.  Try not to remember the times I have cursed God for the rotten things in my life, forgetting your presence beside me, and how that must have felt.

I want you to look at me, at what I’ve become, and take that other road.  The one that leads to enlightenment, and grace.   I want you to be rubber when I shout my injustice into your face.

I want you to know that I want to be better, that I want to thrive again.  And I want you to believe it, even when I don’t.

I want you to adhere to rules, even as I break them hourly.

I want you to have morals, even as I burn my own bridges.

I want you to be stronger, even as I fall apart in the shadows.
I want you to be happy, even as I darken furthermore.

And please, dear child, reject that God awful drug problem that has been passed down for generations now.

As hollow, or drunken, or empty as it sounds, I want to tell you how fucking amazing you are, and that you are the brightest spot in my day, my life.   I want to tell you I didn’t mean those things.  I want you to know your worth, and your brilliance, and I want you to dance in your kaleidoscope of colors.  I want to tell you how much I drink in your essence, your soul.  I want to tell you you mean so much more to me than a footnote at the bottom of a page.  I want to tell you I love you.

I wanted to say I’m sorry.

Sorry for yelling.

Sorry for drinking.

Sorry for cursing.

Sorry for leaving.

Sorry for giving up.

Sorry for leaving you alone to deal with this.

But most of all Angeleyea, I'm sorry for never giving you this letter.

Maybe someday.......I can.

Love Always,

Your Father  

Green screen.

I sit back and watch you stumble from room to room, face yellow with the pallor that has become you.

Mouth drawn, eyes rolled at half staff.

It makes my hair stand on end.

You're a cadaver-weaving with toxic legs.

I don't want you to go to bed, I'm afraid you may not wake up. I know at some point tonight I'll have to leave you to your hallucinations while I revisit mine.

I finally go home, lay in my bed with the lights out-feeling so completely empty.

I remember when I was just a little child I would imagine that there was a man at the end of my bed, in plush armchair, knife in fist.

I knew that if I would scream out to you, you would just ignore me.-I keep my mouth shut.

It was hard to sleep when you were walking the walls with your hands, reading your way through the house like Braille, knocking off pictures, breaking lamps.

You use to be strangely calm as you told me there was no one at the end of my bed.

Come to think of it, there was a night when you crawled into bed with me and described your fears to me as a child. You were drunk with prescription perdition, and you told me things no 8 year old should hear, much less comprehend. 

As you snore, there is a raspy, frightening sound. My heart raced because I was terrified you would die and the man at the end of the bed would get me. I would lay my head on your chest. You felt bone thin from drug abuse. There was no cushion where you breasts should have been, only skeleton. I would reach up and twist your hair with my thumb and index finger. It broke of in my hand, crunching under the weight of my tender touch.

Looking down, I could see that the man was motionless.

Expressionless.

Mute.

I'd drift off to sleep.

I don't remember how old I was when the man went away. I think it was the night that Nathan beat you and you were laying on the coach, blood soaked.

Hours later I would come back to you, awakened again by the incessant screeching of  your voice.

Second battle.

One night.

After I finally fell asleep, you gathered up me and Amber. She was in infinite slumber, unwilling to rise for you. We got to the neighbors and you told me that everything was okay. I was inconsolable, snot bubbly, hiccupping, bellowing shrieks.

That night you were sober with fear.

I next night I begged you to keep the light on, "Because the man watches me all night."

You were exhausted, took your apology in pill form, and passed out. The light from the hall glowed eerily against his face.

He never moved. Never breathed. Never spoke.

But this night he looked me dead in the face, whispering trial of tribulation, slow motion. Strobe lighted pictures flashing before me of my life to come; and empty house with no one there. Reels of tape replaying my future at 9,12,15,18. Me in the foreground, in front of a green screen. I watched fascinated, no longer fearing this apparition. Because the knife was not for me.

It was for them.

After his gaped-mouth silent shrieking, and what I can only describe as spontaneous combustion, he disappeared without so much as a smoke trail. There was a lonely pace at the foot of my bed. Empty, and vast. A puddle of tears where his chair once sat.

It would only be a few years into the future when I would realize that night was the night that I lost my best angel.

Damaged is what you feel, not what others see.

I get a little tired of hearing about how people hate this side of me and what it is and what it's not. It's been a bit of a cradle for me actually. For me getting over myself and the loss of my father. It's been this way for quite a while now. Blogging has honestly been the only way that I've been able to let out how I feel without the awkwardness of talking about it with family. I know that eventually they will all stumble upon my blog sooner or later and they'll know exactly how I feel about everything.

Getting out my frustrations isn't what i love about blogging, it's that strange ability to reach out and touch. It's that way of reaching out that you can't do face to face with the people who you know needs to read them. The ones who can't quite picture who I'm becoming or who I was.It's not that they don't love me, but all too often they feel that I should be subject to their limitations, just because they are. When i blog, people can interact with who I am, right now, in this moment and this typing.-Interact is my word today.

So, here I am in the process of shedding a death, a loss.- That's the nicest phrase I can make for myself right now. It's a thing that everyone will have to go through at some point. I know that I should keep my feelings in my own mind, and in my own moments, but I think that one day I'll be able to look back on all of this and just see how much I've changed when my world fell apart.I did the counseling thing for far to long and it didn't do me any good, so honestly, this is my medicine.
I use to be the "giver" as well, so these past few years have been hard for me to become totally independent. But I have to be. It helps me to develop some of my own rules; these rules of which I hardly abide by but I like to think that I do sometimes.
So..if it's alright, I'll loan mine out to you. Hopefully you can use them.

I remember the couple of weeks of counseling I had, they had me write a list of the "rules" think I should follow to make myself become happy again..blahaha.
I just found this paper while I was cleaning today and I couldn't believe how much I've neglected what I planned to do. But grieving is about plans. I just thought I should share.

The Rules Of Getting Over You, Dad.

1. Try not to fall in love. It will just be a response to needs instead of a thing based on healthy and ready, and who the other person is.

2. When you feel really lonely, see rule one.

3. Remember that the people around you are more than listeners. They also have normal lives full of things less painful then yours. If you listen, they will take you into other places and you can leave yours behind a while.

4. Remember it is not your job to suffer. Hurt is a feeling. Suffering is a choice. It will feel totally stupid to go to that party, or that dinner, or that movie when you just want to cry. But by going you have chosen something besides that suffering. It does not matter where you go as long as it's healthy.

5. Your real friends love you even though they know you well. Trust that. You do think they are smart. Lean on them sometimes.

6. mourn sometimes. Watch the chick flick and let it out. Don't make it a habit. Don't hold it all in either. Tender can be good.

7. Remind yourself that you are also every beautiful, every loving, every good thing you did. It's easy to feel the failures now, and to hear the words you shared last. So it's fair and right to look at all the good things you were as well. Because you are still that person too. That love, that beauty was also you. Fight to keep those things close.

8. Remember that damaged is what you feel, not what others see. They see you as whole. They will treat you often as if you are healthy and complete. It's really hard to believe, but they are the ones that are right. Damaged is what you feel, not who you are.- Of all of my "rules" I still try to follow this one...although I'm not very successful.

The pain only a mother can inflict

Again.

You lost it again.-my respect. It's not like you've had it in the past couple of years. But I've lost what little respect I did have for you. You call me and text me begging for help and telling me that you love me and miss me and that you wish that I would come around to see you. It bothers me that I can't help you financial because I can barely help myself. I can't bring you back to happiness when I can't find my own to begin with you. I can only guide you to where I want you to be but in the end you will always stray away from me. I've tried to let you go and to get over the fact that I can no longer have you unless I accept the drugs you take. I can't just do that. How can you expect me to go through this cycle over and over again and still love you as much as I did before. I'm the only one of your children that ever stands up to you. Honestly is not something you can deal with.


Every time I try to help you, you curse me for merely "being." You've forced upon me tears of confusion, and I swallowed them, choking on the swelling wound in my throat.
You never apologize or offer explanation for all of the things you've put me through.. You've relished in hurting me, and you wanted to feel victorious and bitter at the same time.

As the years are wearing on, I cannot rationalize any of this. The truth is, I can't move the unmovable. I can't light a wet log and make it burn. Yet through all of this shit that you put me through, you still force me to go through your vile past and I'm stuck trying to reverse the karma that is surely suffocating you.


If only the thought of me caring could make you happy....


Our relationship is like a cut. I can't wait for it to scab over from the previous slash to my morale. Yet you pretend nothing happened and you talk to me about ordinary things, looking past my hollow eyes, weakened spirit, and stringent smile.
You feel satisfaction from making sure I cry over you.
You feel justified in hurting me.

I know at some point you wanted to reach out, it stitch this wound, to dress it, and then obliterate my stinging memory. The mark that you've made upon my psyche is likely irreversible, and scarring.

But you'll never care about me.
You gave up on that a long time ago while all along I've been hanging onto you in hopes to make you change.
But I can't change you. And I nearly choke on my words when I talk about this.

I wish that I could be your pulse, your pillar, and the mother to your wounded childed. Somewhere along the lines I realized that I can't fix what you've already done; I am your child. All this time I thought that by taking care of myself it would have made your life easier, but you actually took advantage of me in the sense that you quite caring; I was my own mother.

You probably don't care that you've deeply destroyed me; yourself. If you cared, even for a day, an hour, or a mere moment, it would cause your heart to deflate.

But somewhere in your foggy mind you admire, idolize, sustain, and glorify the very essence of me.

But I'll never truly know that, for you hide it in the far away recess of your mind.
You'll always swallow that pride, and grit your teeth against your own justification, chewing that curdled, god-awful hate that squeaks repulsively against your teeth. I will never be like you. I will never have to reminisce in your indifference.
You swallow the little bits I of what my soul use to be and you don't even give a fuck.

In my mind, I swore it would be the last time my complete unsoundness would overrule reason. I promised this the moment I saw my fathers beautiful face disintegrate under the weight of his indignity. And furthermore, when I turned to you and stiffened my shoulders trying to make it through the pain of my heavy steps, you caught the glisten in my eyes and told me you were done; that you had learned your lesson.

How many more inadequate amends are you planning to carelessly dump into my relentlessly forgiving lap?

To think, it all began when I was just a little child; lips quivering, shoulders quaking, tiny hands wringing, terrified essence, as you scream to me at the top of your lungs to ease you pain and to make it stop. I never learned until now that it was you inflicting the pain onto yourself this whole time.


That makes me feel less than zero.

It ends now.

Other lives, unkown.

Tonight I lit a candle, which I rarely do anymore. The thought of how much you hated them still lingers in their sweet smell. Laying in bed, I watched the light from the candle play tricks on my eyes. With each flicker of the fire, you were dancing on the wall in front of me. I seen the demons in the shadows devour you as the gust of wind overpowered the light that you had so creatively brought to me.
Now that I'm sitting in total darkness, I can't seem to get myself to go to sleep. I miss the warmth from the candle. I would have re-lit it, but I don't have anymore matches.
I've been seeking ways to relax lately; bubble baths, aroma-therapy, all that stupid shit that doesn't work. It only makes me feel good for a little while but it never fully puts my mind at ease.
Tonight I drank a glass of toxins that made me quiver from the terrible taste left on my lips. At times I can't seem to feel my legs and my eyes get heavy but your still on my mind. I couldn't stop thinking of you so I poured more into my glass and sure enough, you were gone. Never had I felt so peaceful until another gust of wind blew through my curtains and for some strange reason, it made me think of you; that in some way you were dancing among the aroma left in the room. So now I'm writing this and I'm kind of here and kind of not. I hope I'm not creating an addiction worse than you. It only makes my emotions about you stronger.
Tonight I found that I'm not a social drinker and never will be.
Instead I feel like if I ever drink another glass of poison I might start to think you're here again so I won't stop. Because honestly, it brings your memories closer to me and although my anger goes away, the pain does not.
It can't be possible that I'm like you.

Hey dad...

You have been on my mind a lot lately. Thinking about life and what it was to you; what it was to me.
You loved me like no one else and yet you hurt me like no other.
I remember all of the times when you would drive all the way over to my mom's just to get me to go out to dinner with you. It was so greedy of me to say no. We both know that you were trying. It was just how you were. I felt so mad at you when you were there and I often wished you would leave me alone just for a few weeks...

But then I also remembered the pain of separations and the defeat I felt when you would no longer fight for me. It was during that week that I wanted to let you see that I wanted to come home. But you left me anyways. Three days, four, seven, fifteen.

And then on Easter you came back for me and it felt as if we were never apart. I felt safe, but I don't know why I didn't get in the truck with you to leave. I don't know why I laughed with you and smiled but then I said goodbye. I don't know why. But from that day on....I didn't see you anymore; at least not until the day before you died. That was the last time.

You would never just calm down..you would never just rest, even briefly, for you have far more important things to do with your days. You made me smile and laugh like a father should. I love you. There is a special love a daughter has for her dad, a love that stays branded on her heart and in her memories. They are words that matter only to me. You always had a warm heart with me.
But when I left for Spring Break, I came back to you after doing all of the things I could do in my time off, but your time was up. You were cold. Unmoving. No breath, no sweet words. Just you staring blankly at the wall with fixed pupils & blue lips. I wonder if you tried to call out to me and all you could muster was the expulsion of fluid from your lungs, with your last breath. Did you say my name?

A cruelty. An injustice. You were everything to me. I tried to breathe the life I once knew into you, but I felt your soul pass me as I pounded on your chest. I would have tried to grab it, to force it back, but I would have fail.

Over 3 years have passed. There are days I don't think about it at all. Hardly. Not every hour at least. And there are nights where you haunt me in my dreams, never touching me or knowing me. I will cry out for you to see me, but you walk on as if looking for something. Or someone. I am broken and empty without you.

I look for you in every man, every woman, every child. I struggle to remain upright. I won't take the easy way like you. You swallowed my soul when you swallowed that lethal dose.

I take my face out of the jar everyday and no one ever knows I'm upset or in pain. Not really. Because if they did, they would take advantage. Make me feel better. Tell me it wasn't my fault. Make me love myself again.

I will not let this loss ever happen to me again because my heart has been stolen by you, tattered and bruised in it's casing, and I wait, futile in my efforts. But I wait.Yes, I will wait for you to give it back to me.

How could a father steal from his own daughter.
You stole my heart & soul.

I still love you with all that I have left. Goodnight.

"Mad World"

There’s a song called “Mad World”, and one of the stanzas is, “The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.”  I get this so much, and most of the dreams that I do remember, I would dream of dying.  That would be a good night’s sleep for me.
See, I don’t fear death.  For any of you who have read my blogs, you know this.  I have attempted the early out program a couple different times with the same result.
A pulse. 
When I wake in the morning, I don’t relish the smell of coffee brewing as I stretch with a lazy smile on my face.  I don’t stir to the sounds of birds outside my window, and feel warmth and inspiration.  I don’t hear the pitter patter of little feet, and ache to run after them.  The first thought in my head when I wake up is.
“Fuck.....still alive.”
It doesn’t mean I don’t love my fiance  It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy things about living.   It doesn’t mean I want to take my life by any artificial means.  It’s quite simple.  I’m ready to die.  Doesn’t have to be today, or next week, or even 10 years from now.  But if I were stricken with an air bubble in my heart while typing this, and I collapsed onto my keyboard, that would suit me fine.
I’m just here in the now collecting memories for the time I am destined.  Snapshots are taken in frames, and I keep the good ones.  Those, I will take with me.  The rest, I will write about in real time.
I made the mistake of joking with someone and telling them I wished I'd get some quick cancerous disease.  Not realizing this person had suffered cancer and been through rounds of chemo and radiation with a burning desire to live, I asked for a glass of water to swallow the foot in my mouth.  But this is the thing.
If I was eaten up with lung cancer, I would refuse any treatment for it, and light two cigarettes at a time, smoking until I broke out in a sweat.  If I had an aneurysm in my brain, I would inhale pepper with reckless abandon, wondering if that last sneeze would be the final. If I had a heart murmur, I would never exercise and eat myself into the next zip code until it quieted.  I relish driving on icy days when roads are closed, speeding just a smidge.   Tornadoes will find me with arms open, seeking their shelter.  Long,winding staircases while inebriated are a treat.
I’ll never attempt to purposefully take my life , because all I end up with is massive depression, scars, and a tremendous headache that refuses to quit pulsing.  And I wouldn’t do that to my fiance either.  Never will I do that.  But, I know what you’re thinking……..by refusing to take precautions, or treatment, and failing to wear a seatbelt, or take shelter in a closet, or traipse staircases in the dark.......I’m practically committing suicide.
Wrong.
We’re all going to die.  Some sooner than others.  I won’t take a massive overdose, or sit in a hot tub with flayed wrists, or step into oncoming traffic.  But I won’t prevent the inevitable, if given the opportunity.  
So there it is then.
I have no friends.  Well, no real “live” ones.  I despise my job, and I have had kind of a crappy upbringing.  Some of that is my fault.  Some of it is definitely not.  I have a man who loves me endlessly for just being me, and in fact, even though he keeps me walking a straight and narrow path...he's my reason for being now.  I have no surrounding family who drops a second thought about me anymore, unless I go and see them, much less remember how to spell my name. Hell, I can barely spell it and it's mine.
But today, right this minute, for now………I have my Frankie, and that is enough to not catapult the alarm out the window.  That is enough to keep me upright, and in moving air.  That is enough for me to smile, and marinate in feelings of worth, and dare I say.......love.  That is enough to steer me away from the medicine cabinet, sharp rusty objects, and imminent danger.
That is enough not to dwell on the prayerful, speedy, final necrosis of my organs. 


 
At least for today........

Vulnerability

Vulnerability. It's become the choice I make everyday. The longer I feel alone in the world, the harder it is to choose.

It seems smarter to live in a world of “I,” sometimes. If I am in control of protecting myself, then I get to choose what I give away of myself. I get to choose what parts of my hurt I let you touch. I get to hang onto my feelings.

I can view the world then from a “safe place” where I can touch you, even through things like these words. I keep you at a distance because I really don't have any other options. The professionals like to call it detachment, I believe.

I can't help but wonder at how my friendships and relationships have changed with people. We are fashioning a world where trust and touch and vulnerability are equated with weakness, danger & stupidity.
We talk, and we listen. Do we hear, or feel, or even reach for what is underneath anymore?

I don't have a champagne taste for life. Rich, simple flavors & full moments & that bubbly feeling aren't the things that matter to me. I don't want tenderness. What I want is, dare I say it, depth. I would like to swim with someone in the deep water of emotion and intellect and vulnerability.

I'm a very good friend of depression. He shows up at my door in his homey, despair. It hangs for a few days and lingers with me. I still answer the door every time my depression comes knocking. I don't have to let it in. I can choose to leave it standing there as I head out that other door called vulnerability and into the world of possibility.

We all deserve some happiness. We all can be someone else's happiness. Sometimes I forget that I am a part of “we” and so it's not right to stand around depressed all of the time. Like everyone else, I deserve visits from goodness & her pal Mercy.

To get there I think I have to keep choosing vulnerability. It's a way to open myself up to a new life. It's become the choice I have to make everyday but I keep going back to my bad habits & emotions. The more challenging finding happiness becomes, the more I know I'll be alone. I'm hoping that renewal is somewhere beyond the door with the big scary “V” on it.

Off I go..

Stepping outside

I'm picking through my dreams lately because there is a strange feeling in my chest. I feel as if something has been lifted and the only thing I can seem to think of is my father. When I sit down and actually think deep about it, it all makes sense. He is no longer as violent in my dreams and I feel much more at ease when I talk about him. Idk...just read if you must....;

In my dreams I look him in the eyes, deep and hard. I blame him for many of my failings. I just do. If he was faster in picking things up, I wouldn't have ever had to clean up after him all of these years. I simply would not have to. If he wasn't so god damned easy to distract, so fucking mercurial, I would not have to fight to finish up his work.

Even in dreams I can stare at him and see his mind wandering, moving on to new problems & possibilites. If he would just live up to his potential he might just change things. If he would just believe that...I mean it, really believe it. But his look eventually goes blank and all of my words bounce off.
He is not as worn as I thought he would be. It's been a long time since I have seen him clear like this. He's always on the move. I'm not sure what's holding him with me in my mind right now...but he's not talking. I see the long curls in his hair. He seems to grind his jaw a little bit. His eyes seem an empty pool of wonder and kindness if I look past the surface. But the surface is rough now, all waves crashing, winding pushing them in, bits of moisture left on the shoreline.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask as she runs his fingers across his damp forehead. I know what he will say. It will be about children and stability. It will be about circumstance and finance. It will be some shit about karma, and owing, and paying for his choices. But in this dream he says nothing.

God, how he pisses me off sometimes. I just want to grab his ass and shake some sense into him. I want to scream that this moment, this day, is another fading from his grasp. I want to pound in the fact that he controls his destiny, that he needs to reach if he wants to grasp. I want to beat a future into him. If I push him hard enough, I can make him right, I know it. But still....I can't do anything.

I reach my hand out to grab a hold of his. Nothing. No response. When the waves are gone, the deep and vulnerable tender eyes remain. It's as if he left me all over again, but this time it was for my best interest.
When I sit in front of him, legs crossed...looking down...it's then when he finally says to me “stop,” and I do because I'm growing.

after this, I woke up a little but only long enough to collect my thoughts and write them down.
<<>>

I lay back down only to find myself in another dream

I run my fingers through my wet hair and take in the features of my face. I would love to say that I know myself. I would love to tell you that I know where I'm going, or that I'll know when I'm going to grow up. I'm not quite there yet. I may never be.

Even in dreams I realize what's holding me back. I just never accept the fact that he is a much better man than I can ever give him credit for. My father's technique in life was sometimes poor, but his heart was always strong and kind. I don't know if I can ever give him my best and let him go. I almost always notice that I have that choice now. It's a gift I suppose, I'm just not really ready to use it and to set him free from my almighty grasp. I've kept his memory prisoner deep in my hear for sometime now.

For the past few years I've thought life was a riddle, a destination, a puzzle. Now i'm pretty sure that life is wonderful and I am simply the puzzled one. I also suspect that I'm supposed to be puzzled until I let go and just forgive. I don't fight it as hard as I use to though. Divinity it seems, might be somewhere inside me, and like Jeprody, it may come in the form of a question. One persons cosmic answer is another's question.

I try not to beat myself up much anymore about him. Lately I've tried to step outside of the moment, or the circumstance, or the emotion and see how things really look. At first I did it to get away from the moment, to escape. Somewhere along the line I realized that I can see more calmly and clearly from here.

I don't know how we get where we end up. But I know we are where we need to be for now. The past week has been nice to find that something is clearing up in my soul.
Life might have been easier if I would have just learned to ask myself to “Step outside”


I can't say how we get where we end up. I do know we are were we need to be. It was nice to find out this week that I'm not alone out here, outside. I tend to think I busted out alone. How arrogant is that....

Anyway, I'm not here to preach. But I will say that life might have been a little easier if I had learned earlier to ask myself to “Step outside."

Ghosts & Wind.

It's a porch. It's not mystic or surreal. But I'm sitting there and looking at the sun, all stretched out and comfortable. I'm totally there, and i'm totally not as the moments float past. I'm lost in the moments passing sometimes. I'm also lost in moments already past.

So is she sometimes. i can tell when the tense changes in the telling. Sometimes we are in present tense. Sometimes it is the tension long held and the conversation crosses the grave of something we've buried. The it becomes the past tension making the present tense.

I'm not sure how I spun up that dust, that wind. I've been swirling gently in it all week. Perhaps it's simply summer. Maybe it's uncorking the past three years. Or it could just be that this is how healthy feels. To be able to move gently through the past and the present with a palpable absence of pain is pretty new and strange to me. 

I worried sometimes that my tears came too easily now, you know, after the fall. My dad used to be like that when something touched his heart it pushed his tears right out. I told him not to be embarassed about his emotions, so I didn't have to hide mine either. There was no need to worry anyway. They slowed on their own. Sometimes now they only come when I call. 

As I sat there with nothing but my thoughts, I often feel another person, see another glass on the table, stacked with ice and a piece of fruit. When we shared desert I was totally there and strangely gone, like the flavor between bites. The old taste flees to make room for the new. It becomes hard in a moment to tell if this is a new goodness, or the memory of an old sweetness. 

In that moment it really doesn't matter what manner of sweetness is on the tongue. I'm just tasting it all, tasting it all again. 

I'm still tasting. 

No matter if it's food or people, fear or challenge, we all step away from something every time we step. Even when we step towards something else. At times I think that if I move forward to fast I will lose track of where I have come from. Of who and where I have been. It's bullshit. 

No matter were we go, what we do, who we become, ghosts and wind and memories travel with us. The memories change quickly as we grow, slowly as we age and never if we freeze them in frames we call perfection or hate or can't or some other inflexible thought that holds them trapped. 

Ghosts and wind are beyond our control. We only feel them as they move around us, touch us, mess our hair. We look, or we don't. Our choice, really. 

I sat at a table alone on Sunday. The first time I've felt calm in 3 years. I was surprised to find myself looking into myself, not away. When I did glance around my head it was strange to see no pictures in frames on the table anymore. The memories were fluid and quiet. They did not require my attention anymore. They were simply okay. I could pick them up in my head and look and then return them to the air. They had lost their sharp edges. 

And him, he has become some combination of ghost and wind. Something of who I thought I knew wrapped in currents that were familiar and foreign. You can reach for both. You can hold neither. 

Today the ghosts in the wind are smiling somehow....I can feel it. The people I can't hold, the steps I'll never take toward, the possible choices never made, they all visit and swirl happily. 
It's also a happy thought that some of you are caught up in the wind. 

Anyway, thats where I've been. 

Standing like an oak as it whips my hair around like leafy branches on a sunny day when the world is content, as the ghosts play among the branches. 

They may not know that I'm looking. But I am. 

And although I am sad today, I'm trying to be happy for his sake.
It's strange to feel happy.

You were my anchor...& therein lay the issue & therein lay the problem.

I'm starting to remember why I'm alone in all of this again. Some time ago I decided to just stop talking to people and stop living my life. The day that he was taken from me, I took myself away from everyone else. Seeing everything slip away so fast made me realize that there is never really anything to hold onto to begin with. Whatever you hold on to you will lose grip of. That's proven to be true with so many things in my short life. I can't have a relationship with my mother because I can't "accept" her drug addiction and way of life. I can't keep friends because I know that with time they will find other interests and I will no longer be of importance to them anyways, not that I ever was to begin with. The last "friendship" I had was just ripped to shreds for no fucking reason. That person holds so many of my fears and deepest secrets and she just betrayed me because I was having a hard time in my life and I couldn't bare to have a sleep over or a girls day out. She pretty much just turned into a different person. I know it shouldn't bother me but it does. I thought that....nevermind.
Things change, people change. It's just really crappy the way shit turned out. It didn't have to be that way. I'm not just passing blame, I'm accepting it. Our interest changed...not to say that they were the same to begin with. -And with that all being poured out..that would be the reason why I no longer want to get close to anyone unless I absolutely have to. I don't want to open up to someone and waste my time if they are just going to fuck me over in the end. That's not the only friend that I lost though...
I never really had a lot of friends to begin with, just people to talk to. I've always shifted my hurt feelings on everyone else. That is true. I don't think I'm capable of having a healthy human relationship with someone because unless they can relate to my hurt I feel as if there is nothing else for me to talk to them about. I know it's wrong and I should be able to deal with my own personal issues and put them aside for the sake of socialization.
I'm just better at being a social outcast. I'm a displaced person.
Even though it sucks ass to go into college without any friends, I know I will get through it. And I honestly know I can do it.
The possibility of me actually getting to know someone might be somewhat possible if I just let go of the past and my losses. If I just stop feeling so damn sorry for myself I can be happy.-I'm just not ready to.
I honestly think that I keep my grief with me because I'm the only one that can push it to the side & reject it. My sadness can't abandon me.. I have to make it go away on my own.

Unclear Mind.

I have an unclear mind cluttered with more than my own thoughts, a box of secrets from various people that came open. In it I hold their thoughts, opinions, their bad days, their sorrow;everything that fuels pessimism. From both males & females, just jumbling around in my mind mixing and like a parasite feeding my own thoughts and making me vulnerable to my flaws. I cant help but to get depressed again, jealous, angry, annoyed, its eating at me. Its about 25 different problems...

I am spilling out this info here in hope it goes away like a bad memory and shuts the box or purges out the thoughts, whats the point in keeping some of this info? I dont know and wont know why some lingers more than others. But it seems there is different sickness and technology is failing, relationships are shattering faster this month alone. This seems to be a bad month a hurricane of issues piled up, and I am here trying to swallow the bad and convert it to a better time.

I have been able to control most of my nightmares now, slowly and surly trying to keep that balance and convert it to peaceful sleep for another night and to let me rest. So far so good, but when things like this spill over im bound for more nightmares tonight, I am really tired of avoiding sleep.

the only thing thats keeping me sane right now is the love i am getting from one person. its beautiful and warm, i cant lose it now, I need it more than oxygen. And all in the same moment that I realize that I need it ....I keep pushing it away and distracting myself with useless things of other people and their issues and I make them my own.

Rest your eyes, sleepy head.

Sometimes I feel like one of those creepy artsy ladies from the city....you know the kind....they live in shitty apartments but for some reason,they find the beauty in what it use to be.They live alone because no one else can feed their twisted soul what it desires quite like they can.They love the sound of the rain tapping against their windows and they don't mind the trash that piles up on the streets. They live their life in their mind. On the walls there are paintings of what she's ripped out of her heart and splashed oh so violently on canvas.-it was acceptable that way.
Her bed isn't simply made, no.... It's draped in cloths & candles. The more pillows, the better. There is no need for a television in her apartment because all she needs are the memories in her mind that seem to be on replaying over and over these days.

Yeah...weird..I know. But lately I feel like I'm somewhere else. Like I said, this just doesn't feel like home.
I want to be in a big city; a city so big that no one knows my name. People ignore me and most of the time people won't even notice I'm alive because I wan't make myself known. I want to walk the streets at night with a fear in my heart....I want to be alone. I want to have my violent fits of rages whenever I damn well please. I want to have my own day where I can just lay in bed and cry if I want....
I want to be able to sit at my kitchen table at 4am and drink tea in complete silence. I want to be able to sit in the middle of the floor and just draw....I don't care what room I'm in or how uncomfortable that damn floor is...I just want to be on it. (that could apply for more than one thing ;) )

I know that all of the things I WANT aren't necessarily what I NEED. And in a way, all the things that I want are things that will just feed this little demon called depression. I know that what I NEED is to find some happiness and to move on. Truth is...I'm not ready.
I want to be alone.
I want to think about it for a really long time.
I want to throw away everything in my life and just start over.
I want nothing.
I want to just sit there.
I want to soak it all in and accept it...IN MY OWN WAY...IN MY OWN TIME.

I don't want it to last forever.
But I do want it to just take some time.

I wanted to punch some lady in the face today because she pissed me off.
I wanted to grab her by the back of her head and to twist her hair in my hands and just beat the shit out of her. ;)
The funny thing is though, she didn't really do anything out of the ordinary.
She was a stranger.
So..yeah.
I just want to be alone...to be left alone.
No friends.No family.No phone.No TV.No PC.
Nothing.
I need to get a grip soon though...
Anger & depression are taking over ever so quickly these days.
I'm afraid I might let them take control.

Consumed with what's to transpire

It's 5:42am, and I can't sleep. Just full of anxiety, unknown anxiety like I am channeling it from someone or somewhere else. I have an unclear mind with it.... it's not even fluid thoughts but choppy static murmurs I can't understand what they are saying or getting at...it's frustrating! It's also frustrating to feel like my heart is going to burst open through my throat.I wonder if it will burst if I vomit?...eek.

I've been seeing them again; the shadows come to life and they are noticing that I see them again, and this means the violet battle of dreams will be here shortly too. These feelings are sucking out any love and hope I have; just pumping stress and annoyance into me. All is lost, no hope.
My wings hurt....yes, my wings..there are weights on the the torn skin on my back...weights are one me again and it's more personal than anything. What new changes lie ahead? I can't help but to pull my head up and back to look.

Lately I have felt the need to talk to someone again...to just unload all of my issues onto others. I attract talkers, those who have to tell me their bad things they have done, as if I am some priest. I don't understand why random people try to drag out a converstaion from me...as is being quiet is so bad. I used to joke that I am a sin eater; I eat other peoples sins and take them upon my own. I think it is real. Do I unload/clear my soul of all this jargon? Not sure but what can a person do for me anyway.

My heart feels pinned against the wall away from me, and it's stressed as well. Anymore stress it will bleed again. It's not the caretakers fault..he is adding all the love,care,comfort,and kindness he can, it's just that it's me and my problems that are messing up his care, I'm sorry.



My legs feel nailed to the ground, they are stopping me from moving forward, I'm ready to cut them and crawl forward, but if I do then my hands will be nailed and if I still try then the nail in my back will impale me...but I will still try even if my heart bursts. I'm not ready to be pulled back, I've done so much and given up a few things to be able to be where I am. I only seek what my heart and soul wants. Why damn me for the teachings that have been impregnated into my mind when I was younger?

Don't give me wings only to clip them, I'll go on til the last drop of blood falls.

ANOTHER RANDOM RANT>>>>>>>

The silver light that illuminates my hallways as I walk past the doors of my life flutters to a rhythm that is off beat and inconsistent like my mind lately. The shadows are movings and creating pictures of the past. I walk this path over and over again like I am stuck on a treadmill and not going anywhere. I see my father coming in and out of the doors but nor sure which one to be in so I can have him in my life again. I am reaching out to him, shouting his name, but he cannot hear, he just smiles and says "angel..." I keep walking and hoping the ground will break under me and let me run forward and begin the chase. Instead the hallway gets longer and I am left to think if I'm doing the right thing for you.I slow down to a stop ...the treadmill stops and I stand there looking at the doors,which one....or is it every door.
I'm afraid I'll pick the wrong door and it will push you away from me even more. None of these doors look promising or hopeful, they look more like bleeding hearts ready to shred apart and drown into tears. I am lost again and don't know what to do. Am I real anymore, am I needed here? Am I anything......I don't feel like I am. Even if I lay here and wait to be run over or drowned in the past, I see your happy face saying my name.....I crawl to you but I don't know if I can handle it... I am the light bearer for them all but who will light my way or give me some kind of strength when it seems like most people are stepping me down into the dirt........show me how to get to the end....or to you....

Now it's a sleepless rant...I'll STFU now before it becomes a short story and some how it's 5:42am again.....Time has stood still :(

You die for love.

It's hard to find something to do with your days during the summer.
There is feeling of wanting to be alone, but then again, if you're alone you think of all the "what if's & why this;why that" shit.
Being around people just doesn't seem to cut it when you don't give a fuck about anything anymore. Conversations become meaningless and everything you've always tried to repress just resurfaces over again.
I get so tired of feeling happy one minute and then so completely opposite the next.
They all say to just take pills..it will go away.-I say...NO.
I don't need medication to make it go away because it's normal to be upset about what I'm dwelling on. I mean, it may not be "healthy" to live with it everyday and to just dwell on it and let it linger, but in a way..his memory is still with me.
Like tonight, I drove by Speedway..and don't you just love when all those little "events" pop up in your mind....
anyways.....I think it went something like this;

It was a couple months into the school year (9th grade to be exact), and me being the little deviant that I am..I decided to not abide by the dresscode....how bad could a detention be anways. I remember this day too. It was in the fall, and it was kind of cold outside. I was sent to Mr. Nicholi for wearing "jeans"....they were khaki though...ugh. He gave me a two hour detention and no way to call for a ride after school.
On my way to the room, I saw someone that I had a crush on and it seemed to make the time go by really fast. As soon as I got out of there my dad was in the office and he was really pissed off because I didn't call him and he was worried that something had happened to me. There was a brief arguement between my father and the principal and then we headed for the truck.
It was so cold outside..that's one thing that I just remember so clearly.
As we pulled away from the school I seen that person that I was talking to during my detention and my dad got really pissed at me.
After a couple of minutes he went down some random street and said, "Fuck it,I'll get gas now."
With it being so cold outside I figured that I might as well get coffee or something.
I felt bad for my dad when he was pumping gas because he had just had a shoulder surgery and he was wearing the cast/sling thing.
When I came back out the the truck, I spilled the coffee as I was trying to sit down. He must have though that it got on his floor because he went crazy and smacked me on the arm.
It was pretty awkward driving home, but after a little while he started talking to me in his strange way that he did.....he asked me how my day was and was joking about how much of a bitch kelly had been since he can't go back to work for a while. The smiled and everything...he was laughing about it all....but when we got home, all the stress seemed to jump on him again and he was in a terrible mood. I watched him go from high to low.
I don't know why but if I could, I would have thanked Mr. Nicholi for that detention.I'm glad that I wore the wrong pants that day. I'm glad that I had that conversation with my father. I'm happy that just for a little while, he was happy. Now everytime I drive by that gas station, I think of my dad and the funny way he would flip out when I would step in the oil spots because it would mess up his interior. I miss the way he would get mad at me for the little things like sneezing and laughing because it would irritate him.
I miss when he would ask me what I was thinking about.
It always seemed like a dumb question to me, but now that I think about it...he just wanted to know what was on my mind. I wish I would have talked to him more.

There are times when I just have to stop over at my old house and walk around in the yard just because it brings back memories..and although they hurt me so much and kill my heart over & over again..I keep doing it just because I can feel him there.
I sometimes look into the windows and I can see the spot where he died because there is a stain.
It's just proof that he's really gone.

When I walk into the back yard by his old shed I remember the last conversation we had there. I wanted to go to the park to see my friend and he argued with me that I was going to see a boy when I really wasn't. I begged to just leave the house because I was grounded to begin with. He was washing his Blazer.....I kept running my fingers through the soap....he would get mad. lol.

Anyways..he let me go for a while. (an hour).....TWO hours later he drove through the park and told me to be home soon. THREE hours later a cop drove up to me and my friend and asked me where I was supposed to be and she told me to get home because my dad was looking for me.
When I did get back home, he was standing in the front yard with the phone talking to my mom or my grandma. He was seriously pissed of to me that I took advantage of the privelege he gave me. At first I didn't see why he was so mad, but now that I think about....I would have been too. He just cared.

Even though people talk about my dad and say he was a shitty guy, I know different. I know different because I saw different. My dad was a really good man.
It hurts me think of how he had to struggle so much though. He always tried really hard to make me happy and to take care of me and to make sure I was okay at night. He woke up at 6am every morning and went to a shitty job just because he loved me and he had responsibilities.
He would think of me so much throughout the day that he would actually sneek and text me stupid jokes.

I get greedy with my memories and with what I use to have. I guess I just try to hold it all in for myself because I don't want to forget. I make him seem like he was just a terrible man somtimes just because I can't believe he left me. All in all, my dad was a great man. I never realized how many people he knew until his funeral. I never realized that I wasn't the only person there that loved him. I need to realize that I'm not the only person here that lost him. Kelly lost a husband, my mom lost her first love, my grandma lost her "son-in-law", I lost my dad, and many people lost a friend, Tony lost his brother,Gage lost his uncle......he was someone to everyone.
I seem to be the only person stuck in the mess he created and left.

Everyone dies.
No matter what you do you die.
Everything you do is for nothing.
But not really because in the end when you're gone, people remember you but they hurt because you're not here...
You die for love.

Empty spaces fill with dread.

My heart still flares up when I think about you. I feel the match light the fire that you left in me.
I miss you. There are so many things going on right now and I just feel that I really need him in my life. I don't want to look out at graduation and NOT see you there. I hate thinking about it. I shouldn't be throwing my own graduation party and planning things on my own. You should be here to help me right now but you're not and I hate you for it. You're not here to help me with college or anything. I just want to know what you would think about and I want to hear your opinion on my life. I can't stand that you left me at such an awkward time. I hate crying about it and I hate trying to find things to occupy myself with because you're gone. I don't want you to consume my life anymore.

I'm actually fearing my wedding day somewhat just for the simple fact that you cannot walk with me. You're not going to be here to see my children or watch them grow. You can't see the person I grow to be.

I find myself trying to put myself in your shoes...what it would have been like waking up all those mornings and thinking... "I'm going to risk my life today and get high..just because it feels good." I wonder if you thought of the impact it would have on your daughter and her future and happiness. All the times that you told me that you had the dark circles under your eyes when I was little was because you couldn't sleep because you were worried about me. It was true and I believed you. But in the safety of your own arms you still had them and you lied to me for the reason they were there. I wanted to change you even more than I wanted to change my mom because you were just starting and she had made her way down the path many times. I wish you would have stayed here and gave yourself the chance to watch life progress. It wasn't as hard as you made it out to be. I'm feeling this anger right now because I watch my mom do everything you did and I can't stop her even though I can see her whenever I want. She's making her own choices...the same as you. She's fighting with herself...and her demons are winning. It really bothers me that she stood over your dead body and said she would change her life and now she's back to her same old ways. I hear so many stories about her and I for some odd reason, believe them. On the other hand...I don't feel that way towards you because I knew what kind of man you were when you were sober. I never got the chance to fully know her and I doubt that I ever will considering the alcohol is more refreshing than the smiles on her childrens faces.

You both took the pussy way out and tried to escape it. Life was changing and you just couldn't see it! It was getting better. I was getting better. I was letting go of wanting to fix my mom and I was trying to break free from being so depressed and down about her all the time..and then you did the most greedy thing a parent could ever do to their child..you took yourself away from me without a reason or a goodbye. For that , I am pissed off. For that reason I hate you today.

I wanted to talk to you today really bad but I couldn't find you. Then I started to think about it and I realized that I can't find someone that's been taken....and then another thing struck me.....you weren't taken, you just left. For that.....<<< I hate you.

I'd give up forever.-I mean it.

It's April 9th.This would mark the 3rd year anniversary that I went away to my mom's for Spring Break. And it just so happens to be the last day I saw my father....I can tell that depression is starting to settle in again because I feel so distant and I can't sleep or eat. I remember that day so well....
We got off school earlier than usual (it was my freshman year) and I remember that on the way home on the bus I was talking to some old lady that was on there about what I was going to do on Spring Break and I kept mentioning how I couldn't wait to get out of my dads for a while. I didn't really have plans but I just knew I wanted to be away from him an Kelli. When I got home I saw 4 referrals on the counter from me not wanting to abide by the school dress code. I was for sure he was going to be pissed so I grabbed the papers and waited for him to get home. When he got there he came in the living room and sat down on the couch. He seemed really agitated and sick. I tried to explain why I got into trouble but he told me "Not now Angel! We'll talk about it later! Damn."
I kind of started to think that I wasn't going to be able to go anywhere. Soon Kelli came home and they left. I was home alone to pack all of the stuff I would need for my break. I packed the most ridiculous stuff too-scrap booking things,paint,ps2 (it was still cool then.lol),ipod,and a shit load of stuff I would never really use while I was gone. When my dad got home he seen all of my belongings packed in boxes and bags. I remember him saying "Don't you think you're taking too much? You're only going to be gone a few days after all." We even argued over a stupid bag that he didn't want me to take because he said it was his and I would ruin it or lose it or something dumb. After a couple minutes of fussing around he offered to take my stuff out to my mom's car and I completely turned him down. He just said to me "It's like you're taking everything.....almost makes me feel like you're not ever coming home. Love you kid. Be good. Call me." And then I pushed past him being a little bitch.I didn't even say anything back. I know it hurt that I didn't say "I love you." He always asked me if I loved him more than my mom. I think it was important to him because they would use me as their pawn in the game of "Fuck Life."
I never knew that my last goodbye would be wasted like that. I'll never be able to take by my harsh words or bitchy little actions. I would honestly do ANYTHING to be back there and I wouldn't have left. I would have stayed there and I would have talked to him, and I would have actually been a loving daughter. It's what he deserved after all.He was a very good dad. The least I could have done was been there to help him.
After a couple days at my moms it was Easter and he stopped by my aunts to see if I wanted to come over to spend time with him. I told him now and I asked him to leave me alone while I was spending time with my mom. He looked so rejected and hurt. I remember Kelli yelling at me and telling me I need to come home with my "family" and stop having an attitude. He gave me a little hug through the door but it wasn't enough to really count for anything.
When I got inside I had the worst attitude about my dad showing up and I said "GOD! I hope he fucking dies soon so I can live my life!!!!" my aunt got on me about saying that. She told me that she said that about her mom and then after she died she regretted it and it makes her loss so much more painful.I blew it off as nothing.
April 23rd......he died of multiple drug toxicity. I wished for things that I didn't need. I asked for too much for too long and even though I know it was an accident it still feels like he would have wanted to give up on things. You can only go on for so long being who you are and being so unhappy and pushed away. I know he wanted so much more for himself. He told me so. He was only 31. He didn't even get to start life.....I wasn't all the things I should have been and he probably felt like he was failing in life and he couldn't do any better. He had settled for less so long ago that he didn't want to actually do anything.
He was there for me so much and now that I'm about to graduate I want to just give up because he won't be there for me. When I look out there.....there will be an empty seat and no one will notice it but me because I'll know who that seat was for....and I know why he didn't show up.
I know people move on and I know time is suppose to heal everything..but ....I still haven't let it go and it's tearing me apart right now. I hate it so bad and I miss him so much.
I went to his funeral...but he won't show up at my graduation...or wedding....or....anything...my life.
I think about him all the time. It's lonely where he is...it's lonely where I am.

Never shined doing what I've shown.

 

At 6 o'clock in the morning the last thing that I wanted to hear was loud music. I never used an alarm clock,but I would only wake up if I could hear my fathers music playing really loud. He would always put in the same Metallica CD and it would play.The song that would signal for me to get up and get up right then was a song called "Fuel." I'll never forget that.
Gimme Fuel,
Gimme Fire,
Gimme that which I desire,
Ooh!

Turn on...I see red
Adrenaline crash & crash my head
Nitro Junkie, Paint me dead
And I see red

One hundred plus through Black and White
War Horse, Warhead
Fuck 'Em Man, white knuckles tight
Through Black & White

Ohhh, On I Burn,
Fuel is pumping engines,
Burning hard, loose & clean

And I burn,
Churning my direction,
Quench my thirst with Gasoline

So Gimme Fuel,
Gimme Fire,
Gimme that which I desire,

Hey

Turn on beyond the bone
Swallow future, spit out home
Burn your face upon the crome
Yeah!

Take the corner, join the crash,
Headlights, Headlines
Another Junkie lives too fast
Yeah lives way too fast, fast, fast, oohh-aye

Ohhh, On I Burn
Fuel is pumping engines
Burning hard, loose & clean

And On I burn
Churning my direction,
Quench my thirst with Gasoline

So Gimme Fuel
Gimme Fire
Gimme that which I desire

Yeah-Heah

White Knuckle Tight!
(solo)

Gimmie Fuel.... On I burn, on and on
Gimmie Fire.... On I burn, on and on
My Desire....

Ohhh, On I Burn
Fuel is pumping engines
Burning hard, loose & clean

And I burn
Churning my direction
Quench my thirst with Gasoline

Gimme Fuel
Gimme Fire
Gimme that which I desire
Ooh

On I Burn!

Whenever I fall asleep listening to my ipod I almost always wake up to that song. Often it's the song "Sandman" by Metallica...and I usually fall asleep listening to Led Zeppelin or something. Is there really ways of communication through music? I would like to think so. It seems ever so strange that with just a song you can immediately feel all of your past emotions and everything seems so real. 

Sometimes I close my eyes and I'll put in my ear buds and listen to metallica and I'll slowly start to let the music get louder-almost like it's being turned up by him. And I'll take myself back to my old bedroom in my mind.-Painted purple & burgundy. I lay in my bed trying to imagine him in the other room getting ready for work. At 6:30am he would always open my door a little to make sure I was awake and getting my things gathered up for the day. He would just say "be good." My dad was a simple person.Not complex at all nor was he confusing. He was straight forward. Now that he's gone I feel closer to him but I also feel so far away.

Thinking about it now, I can remember times that I would just sit down and listen to his music after he passed away and I would close my eyes and get the sense that he was sitting there with me rocking out. I never thought that I would be just like him.-really-I didn't.I thought that I would end up being a really disfunctional girly-girl but I'm actually a really weird,disfuctional,artsy,loner type person. For the life of me I cannot make myself any happier.I'm starting to embrace this because it what has shaped me the past three years. Tragedy is my inspiration. 

In all honesty, I cannot function without music. Its the soundtrack of our lives,it burns memories to an era. Music truely has a magical connection to now and then. Think about it. If I say "Bohemian Rhapsody"- you either are thinking of Econoline vans with captains chairs or Waynes World! Music is a time machine. It can take you to the past with Led Zeppelin or to the future. I can't recall a lot of math formulas I've learned in school but I know every word to almost every 70s&80s rock song I've ever listened to.-Especially if it has an emotional attachment.

I highly recommend that you get in touch with your past-whether it be good or bad it's good to travel back there and take a good look at how you've come so far in your life.

3 years really does make the difference.

((I'll probably update this too))

I was way too young when you left my side

When I was younger I use to climb out of my bedroom window and sit upon my roof. It was pretty high off the ground,but for some reason I always wondered how it would feel to have the wind hitting my face as I fall to the ground. I would stand at the tip of the roof just to pretend. There was always a nice little breeze that swept through my hair; it felt so good.

The thought of how the cold air would grasp onto me as I plunged toward something I didn't know was so fascinating to me. As I got a little bit older I would think more and more about it. Sitting on the roof, I would catch myself looking down just to see what was there and what I could fall on and I wondered how much it would hurt.My mind eventually started drifting towards larger buildings and how far I would fall. I can't describe the feeling I get when I think about it. Realizing now that my whole childhood I had suicidal thoughts, I ask myself the question :"why?" I played around with things so much-always trying to figure out what would hurt me and what wouldn't-and once I figured out the bad, I poked at it even more. Now that I'm older and my childhood fears are coming back to haunt me, I keep thinking about it. Everything is going so well for me right now but I keep trying to fix my mother and it's been an ongoing battle that I just don't want to play anymore.Saving her is not my job-I failed at my last attempt.
Today during school I spaced out quite a bit. Thoughts that I shouldn't ever think about floated threw my mind.



I want to stand on the edge of a building in the middle of the night while it's raining.....poring rain at that.I want to feel the wind blow threw my wet hair.I want to just let go of all my worries and let my feet slip off the ledge....I want to feel my clothing flap in the wet,windy fall. I haven't felt about the end yet. I don't know whether I want to get back up and continue on with my night or if I would just let that be it.
I'm not suicidal, I'm just troubled and heart broken and fed up. I'm hurt and I've been hurt all of my life by my mother and father with their constant abuse of their life. It's like they don't care. Maybe when I was little I was thinking..."If I just fall maybe they'll be there to catch me and tell me it's all okay.Maybe my troubles will fall away from me and I'll be here where I should be."
In July I'll be in a big city and I can't wait to be a nobody to just blend into the crowd of people and disappear. I don't want anyone to "save" me. I deal with my problems on my own. I just want to know that I still have emotions and feelings from time to time... I've become numb the past 3 years and I just need a little reassurance.



Think what you will,but you can't tell me you've never thought of things. Don't tell me you've never had an aching in your heart and soul so bad that you just don't want to feel it anymore. Don't make me out to be crazy.-I know just how I am.
The ONE thing I tried to hold onto has been ripped away from me....and now the only thing I had remaining has ran from her problems to a simple solution. I wish I could be as pathetic but there has to be something for me to live for after all.

Wish I could understand

I can't help it.-I just know that my soul needs time to itself right now. I haven't quite healed and sometimes it feels like I never will.
April 23rd with be the 3 year anniversary of my father's death. It doesn't seem right that someone can be so full of life and character and the next second be...gone. All your life you work so hard and in the end it turns out that you're going to the same place as everyone else and all that time wasted was for what everyone ends up getting in the end. Why is there death? I just can't seem to comprehend that out of all the people in the world,he had to die. He ceases to live. Why? Is there seriously some other reason than what the coroner told me? I know that everyone has to go one day, but why him? And why did it have to be so soon in my life-before I could accomplish anything and he could be proud of me for something.
I write these stupid blogs like every week hoping that I'll soon find acceptance in myself to move on.I can't.I cannot what so ever move on from losing him. I think about it everyday and it's in my dreams and everything. I never thought that I would be a million miles away from my father.Never. And now my worst fear is coming so fast towards me and I just want to run away.-I'm losing my mom again. She's probably tired of me saying that but it's how it is. I want to leave for Pittsburgh so bad but then again..I'm afraid to get the call one night that she's been taken from me. I don't want to leave my brother with her because he's rebelling so bad against his self.He has the potential to be a great kid but he's just following in the wrong footpath and I'm so scared for him. I know that he will never allow himself to pick up and move on from the "bad life." He thinks that what he's doing right now is so "cool" but he's only 12 and it breaks my heart to watch him do all this stuff and his life is just falling apart. My mother set him up for failure. No matter how hard I try I can never change them. I fucking hate that out of all the good people in the world-they die first and the horrible people still have a heartbeat at the end of the day.

But I'll always be a million miles away.

I don't think that I'll be able to move on in my life until this is all over. And over it will never be. I'll be stuck in this mess for the rest of my life.

I often find myself wondering if I'll ever really see my father again. The thought of heaven actually existing is a bit too much for me to comprehend. Wanting to see him so bad again makes me feel like a desperate little fiend; like a child that needs candy...or that lady that needs another fix. Everyone says it's been so long, but I'm not counting the years he's been gone; I'm counting the days until I can possibly meet him again and then again, I think of all the time he's been away from me and I wonder if he would even recognize me if he were to see me. The great big bond that use to be there; father and daughter; would that still be there? Would I still feel the same connection if he were sitting in this same room with me? Sometimes the things you want so bad aren't that great in the end. If he would have never died...I would not be sitting here right now. I would most likely be a drop out and I would have given up on a lot of things already because of the constant stress of my mom and dad fighting. Never getting along with his wife was something that killed my home life. Strange thing being-now I get along with her because she's the only thing I can keep from my father's passing that can relate to me.Now it seems so much easier to talk to her and get along with her, but I don't understand why I was so rebellious before. Everything could have been much simpler if I would have just gave in a little bit and made the effort to not be such a bitch.
Someone asked me today...."Angeleyea-if you were to see your father for ONLY one minute...what would you say..how would you feel?"
-I can't answer this question because at different times I feel different ways about the way things have turned out. There is nothing that can be said in one minute to make up for 3 years. Not even "I love you" would be enough. It wouldn't be good enough....what I really need to say things to him and "I love you" it's just too simple. I don't know if he would have something to say to me. I fear that I wouldn't give the right kind of love or hug or something and I would regret everything after that minute was up. Saying goodbye again would be even worse than the first time. I never actually said goodbye to begin with...so saying goodbye for real would be just.....horrible.
-There...that's your answer. There is nothing else I can think of to tell you. It's a really deep question and I don't think I gave the BEST answer..but....it's good enough.

Pittsburgh is coming oh so fast and too soon. We have stuff ready and a lot of things lined up for our move. July 15th...wow.

I've got my wedding dress picked out and EVERYTHING else.

Don't have very long

Although I'm very young,I've had a lot of things go wrong in my short life.
These things have given me wisdom and have shaped me to become the Angeleyea that I am today.I don't like these tragedies...but I more or less couldn't live without them.
I know that I'm not liked by people, and that's fine.
I'd rather have a few friends that like me for me and not people who pretend to just to make me feel better.
I have a life,and as crazy as it may seem,I love it. There are parts that I could do without....and somedays I don't even want to exhist.
Today was a non-existing day for me.
I vanished.
I wasn't here.
(ugh..i wish.)
But it's becoming more evident of who I'm meant to be.
It may seem strange,because it is,but....I've "found myself."
Among the crowds & losers that follow....I've found Angeleyea.
Starting now...I am who I am....like me or not,I don't give a fuck anymore.
I don't plan on being a social person anymore. I don't like the drama.
I just like to be alone.I like the silence,and I like the peacefulness.
I like to think of the past.I like to feel upset.
It fuels me & my art.
It makes me live in another time.
I hate now.I don't like it. ( i love the people in my life & the way I live it)
But I hate what's going on around me.
I hate being judge for the people in my family. I don't like to be turned away from oppurtunities just because of how certain people in my family live their life.
I'm different from them.
A lot different.
Just know that.

Ugh...

I feel really tired today.
I thought that I would just go over some of the things that have been annoying me lately....
1)Emo people; They suck.I hate how think their life sucks so bad that they need to be dramatic and cut themselves....have you seriously went through ANYTHING in your little life to feel so depressed? I think not. solution:Stop being such a fucking cry baby because your mommy won't drive you to hang out with your other emo lame ass friends....just shut up and go buy shit from hot topic....oh..cut deeper dipshits..you're not doing it right.
2)"Stalkers"; What do you think of when you first wake up? "Hmmm...maybe I'll snoop through EVERYTHING Angeleyea wrote yesterday and then give her dirty looks all day...yeah..that sounds like a great idea!" Wrong. It's not.I doesn't really effect me...it just pisses me off...and the more you do it, well....Sound interesting???? hope so.Stop making FAKE myspaces and come up to me and say what you have to say. If you're going to be a pussy, don't even bother talking your shit.
3)"Mainstream Music"; Do you really like it? Seriously? Ew. Rap..hip hop...R&B? It's fucking stupid. I've never listened to anything more retarded in my fucking life. But the really sad thing is that there are actually people that like those songs!!!!!! Wow. Songs about lipgloss,jeans & boots,food, and ass.....it's just dumb. I don't see how it can even be interesting to anyone...but I guess the world is full of retards now.lol. Get better taste in music. you fail at life.
4)Perves in Stikam; Stop coming into my video chat and showing me your tiny man parts. It's gross. I clearly said that I don't want to see that. And I don't even want to talk to guys. It's nasty. I think that people that can just show their junk online or randomly anywhere should just be shot. If I want to see a tiny wang, I'll ask. But I'll never want to EVER see that. You should have never been born.lol. It's gross,pathetic,and tiny. Aren't you embarrassed of that thing?
5)Hot weather; Can't be changed but it's annoying and yucky. I hate when my legs stick to the seats in the car...ew.lol.
6)"PC4PC"; Don't msg me with that. I'm not going to comment on your pics if you comment on mine. It's dumb. Don't even bother.
7)Beggers; Get a job. Stop mooching off of your family and get a job. If you ask me for $, the answer is NO. You may say I'm a big meany..lol.but I'm not going to help someone that's not even bothered by not helping themselves.Grow a set of balls and go put in an application dude.
Well..that's all that has been irking me this week.lol.
Um....I'm on the laptop again...so no aim. I mean yeah.it's on here..but I dont like to be on instant messengers when I'm on the laptop...it's just bleh...