but at least it's something.

I talk about love, only to realize I have no idea what it means. I talk about community (and believe in it), only to want to be left alone. I talk about hope, only to open my eyes and realize this place is sometimes void of it.

But there is something in the hopelessness. Something safe (yet so unsafe). I think it is the closest we get to death without actually dying. Maybe that’s what it is, we know we won’t feel anything else after we die. So we think that if the hopelessness lasts long enough, it will remove those feelings altogether. But is it worth losing out hearts? Is it worth letting them become so hard that we no longer feel?

I can't seem to make these words mean something. I thought about why I keep this going (the blogs), I’ve never been one to share what I’m feeling. Especially when I can’t get words to do what I want them to. I have these ideas in my head that won’t translate onto paper, or a computer screen, no matter how hard I try to make them.

And there are these things I don’t know what to do with. My mind says to stay here where it is “safe” (here we are again), while my heart simply can not take this place anymore. It is conflict and contrast, but at least it’s something. Perhaps in wasn’t my heart that sank to the ocean floor as I thought. A fraction, maybe… but not what I thought.

So I sit here, in this celebration of two months of freedom, finding out my heart has not been where I thought it was. And although I am confused and still have a long way to go, I will try to let go and enjoy this moment. Because a part of me is two months old (today). And that…

is worth fighting for. Even through the pain and lies and hard hearts. I am aware that this feeling will pass and be replaced with uncertainty (and the lies will get more believable), I know this. But I also know that will pass. And so the cycle will continue, trying to break us down and steal our hearts from us.

It’s days like today that make it seem possible to fight… that make it seem worth fighting for.



….So I am off to celebrate. Even if the people around me don’t know what exactly we’re celebrating.

And They Faced Each Other

Supposedly there is a beauty in brokenness.


There is no beauty in this. I can see it in them. I can see it in her when she tells me to look up. It is everywhere yet I can't find it in this, only remnants of a sticky mess.


For the life of me, I can't figure out what you see. It can't be the truth. I can't possibly be that.



I tried to let go, but now it feels as though my heart followed to the bottom of the ocean. It feels I've given up more than I meant to. But I still remember. I kept what you said. every word. I can't forget them, I used them too many times.

And my body, oh, it took all the beatings I could never give you.

I stretched myself as far as I could and you pushed the rest of the way. I simply can't be where you want me to be. I wish I could, with every ounce of me I wish I could.


But I chose to recover my heart (without digging up the rest). And maybe I can learn something along the way. about me. or about you. I never learned to do this. But perhaps I will find it.









and leave the hurt for good.