Hello, it's me.

I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet to go over everything. This is where I stop being Adele and start being way less rich and vocally talented. 

I sleep alone at night. Nobody asks me how my day at work was. I don't receive good morning texts. I'm not picking out a house in a city that'll be perfect for our kids to grow up in someday. I'm not picking out a name for our dog. I'm not waking up early to brew him coffee so it's ready before his pretty eyes flutter open. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. 

Hot, angry tears streak down my cheeks, cutting through caked on glitter makeup applied by my four year old. I should be happy and I should be content, but -- I'm not. 

I'm mad at myself for feeling these things. I'm mad at myself for writing these things. I'm mad that I'm chastising myself for having these raw emotions. 

At over halfway to 26, I see my clock ticking. I get poisoned by social media littered with home buying and engagement pictures and sweet, small babies. I find myself envious and resentful of those who are happy in their love, because I'm not. 

Not is underrated. It yields so much power contextually. 

I think, maybe, therein lies my problem. If I can't be happy and love myself, love the family I've got, maybe I'm not ready to share the love of another human. Then again, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe, for once in my life, I am ready. 

Life is funny like that. We wrestle with finding serenity, but we seek continuous improvement. We set goals, but we strive to aim higher and higher. For me, the key is to push to make certainties happen, to find the pockets where it's okay to keep wanting more, to keep wanting better. Then there are milestones, events and situations that, if you don't meet those marks you want, renders them insignificant. I don't care if I'm never a CEO, because if at the end of the day I can home home, and nestle in-between my loved ones, I'm exactly where I'm meant to be. 

Love is my largest dream. To share my life and my heart with my forever best friend, that's my greatest victory. It's okay to want that. It's okay to desire that. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. 

It's okay. I'm not. I will.  


fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck

you're fucking lost, dude. i don't even know you anymore. hell, you don't even know you anymore. i want to save you, i love you, you know that, i know that, the whole motherfucking world knows that. you're not the person i used to know, and that makes me sadder than you could ever know. when you send me drunk ims, telling me you're going to kill yourself, you rip me apart. i've been up all night, worrying, crying, throwing my fucking guts up. i hope you're as happy as you're pretending; one day you'll get sick of saying that everything's alright. i'm just hoping that when that day comes, it doesn't involve suicide. i'm here, todd, i'm here. i'm not fucking going anywhere. i would never leave you, i would never leave your side. even when you've left mine, i waited for you, and when you came back, there i was. please stop. stop this fucking bullshit. i'm ready to pick up the pieces when you're ready to admit you're broken. i love you.


hold me

i’m pale so you can see my veins underneath my skin because it’s practically see-through. if i stare at my veins long enough, it’s almost as though i can feel the blood pulsing within them, being transported throughout my entire body. sometimes i trace a path with my fingertip, following my heartbeat from my wrist to wherever the blood is traveling at that particular point in time. i lay there, heavy eyes closed, focusing on my heartbeat. and some days it feels like my blood is lined with lead, everything moves so slowly. sometimes after i shower, i slink down and just sit until my body air dries entirely. i like to rest my head between my kneecaps and just let my wet hair stick to my cheekbones. dark brown tangles fall in front of my face, blocking my eyesight. i watch the water bead up and chase the droplets with my eyes as they weave through the intricate knots and clusters of hair. i pretend the drops are racing down each strand, trying to see who can reach the end first. i might be weird, but i don’t care what you think.


similar to heavy traffic

my hands smell like cigarettes and my breath smells like coffee. my socks are wet from the snow and my nose is pink from the wind. my tears are hidden behind my smile and my hair is damaged from straightening it far too much. i'm a hot mess, really.

i don't even think anybody reads my blog anymore and strangely, i'm alright with that. it's a release for me; especially today. i haven't posted in so long and i didn't realize how detrimental it was becoming. when i write, i'm happy. i'm free of judgment and scrutiny; i'm me. i can spill out all of my innermost thoughts and my deepest emotions and my strongest feelings and nobody says shit to me.

so even though i don't feel like sitting here expelling every detail of my life, i still feel as though i have. my thoughts were so tangled and my life was so haywire before i began typing but now that i'm pressing my fingertips against my keyboard i'm forced to think about the things i've been keeping tucked away in the crevices of my mind and the dusty, cobwebbed corners of my heart. it's almost as though as soon as i hone in on writing my blog the whole world stops moving and all of the chaos surrounding me ceases. sadly, this entry will cease, too. meaning that as soon as i double click that orange 'publish post' button, the complex nature of my complicated life will resume making me feel like i'm stuck on a teacup ride, spinning and spinning, never stopping. i think i'm going to throw up. (publish post)


Where is the Love?

No, this post is not about the Black-Eyed Peas song.

I hate ignorance. I hate narrow-minded people. I hate that people are so against being open-minded, so closed, so afraid of everything. I believe that it is your right to have an opinion, but I also believe that everyone has an opinion and that opinion deserves to be heard just as much as yours. It's so frustrating that people all want to talk, and run their mouths, but the second you disagree you're worth shit.

Consider this. I'm in Speech class right now, discreetly avoiding beginning to type an outline for a persuasive speech about saving the rain forest. There's an overly obnoxious jock with the i.q. of a rock to my right. I'm a Christian. I don't believe in abortion, gay marriage, the death penalty, or sex before marriage. Well, he is writing his persuasive speech on his support of the death penalty. Whatever, those are his beliefs, I respect that. So, when he asked me if I would give him ideas, I respectfully declined. I'm against the death penalty, how am I to aid you in your pro-death penalty speech? We literally argued for about 10 minutes because, apparently, my views are wrong because they're not his opinions. LAME.

I'm not stupid, I know that you're not going to agree with everybody, but you can at least listen to everybody and try to understand where they're coming from. Is that really so much to ask?

Also, that annoying jock to my right just shouted that I was blogging, which would be perilous for my Speech grade and smarty-pants reputation. I not-so-respectfully told him to just shut-up, and now I allegedly am in a bad mood. Go figure. Well NEWS FLASH, I'm not in a bad mood, I'm just sick of people. Mainly you, over there to my right. Also, you can take that apology you just gave me and shove it...well, you know. And, snap my bra strap again and see what happens. (Dick.)