I tried. Like, I feel like I tried more than I have in a few years.
Dating is toxic. It’s the worst thing in the world. And while the stories and poems I get from somewhat captivating encounters is usually alright – I tend to walk away with the whole, “What the fuck was I thinking?” vibe.
That’s essentially what I have today. Continue reading
cut like you
work. Continue reading
Brooklyn ate me last weekend. Ever since I made up with my boyfriend, I’ve been spending way too much time there.
Don’t get me wrong, Cony Island all day. But I built my life in midtown. I move so much, that it’s important I make use of where I am while I’m there; which just so happens to be upstairs from a 24-hour wonderland.
I’m boycotting Brooklyn for a hot second. It’s just about summer here in New York City, which is the best time of year in one of the best places on Earth. I watched the sunrise this morning before dancing on the river’s edge. I wandered through my local farmer’s market and smiled at all of the vendors I see every Wednesday. I sat in front of the north facing glass wall of my apartment with the sun on my face and words spilling from my fingers. Continue reading
when we met
we extended. i taught
and we learned
while he swore. that. this
only happens once.
i chewed my nails
and i bit too short.
i curled into 4am
silence. and he was
the one p/eace/iece
be(cause) the way i
shake. he k(new)
that. when i stretched
into the sun it was
like i could never reach
far. enough. the style
i chose to stop; inside.
there is so much
loud noise every time
i hold my breath.
when i exhale
he always appears
I don’t have a boyfriend again. After we spent four days making up, I had an anxiety attack this afternoon and told him we shouldn’t see each other.
This is upsetting for a spectrum of reasons. However, I feel myself retreating to the safety of where I cut the world off and fall into a meditative state of complete nothingness.
There are a lot of reasons I suck at being a girlfriend. However, I find my greatest issue in feigning relationships with the human species is the anthropomorphic perception of time.
I’m hard and fast. Life is short, experience is precious. If I start having experiences with someone, like I had with Anthony recently, for example, or even the Frenchman – I can’t comprehend why these experiences don’t occur as frequently as possible.
As much as I’m in love with being in love, I also feel like love is a fucking joke and probably not in the cards for me this walk around. I take “in or out” to a manic level that most Earth dwellers cannot comprehend.
It’s pushing four in the morning. I’m drinking vodka sodas, looking at the east river out my window and blasting Elastic Heart in my ears. I’m not sure why I do these things that pull my heart strings to a vague sense of torture.
Sometimes I think it’s because I’ll never heal from my marriage breakdown. I certainly won’t as long as I keep spending time with people who only give a shit about me on their clock.
I don’t want to change anything about mySelf. I’d like to stop trying to find someone to love though. It’s not even like I’m stomping streets trying to find it. It’s just that when I meet someone who is extremely special to me, I take it too seriously.
I’m going to try to stop doing that.