We are all worms, But, I do believe, I am a glowworm.-Winston Churchill


The last time I saw your face, heard your voice you were sitting on the living room couch rolling a joint and your exact words were,

" I don't want us to hate each other."

But, what did you want? Not me certainly. What you wanted was no confrontation, what you wanted was your ex, what you wanted was for me to move out as fast as humanly possible so you wouldn't have to sleep on the couch anymore while the physical embodiment of your commitment issues, personal failure and guilt slept in your once happy bed. That's what you wanted.
You wanted clarity, you wanted the realization of your dreams, you wanted happiness and I can't fault you for that. The difference is I found those things with you. What you found in me was distraction, minimal effort and vacation love.

I look back now and think how stupid I was to trust you. While I'm sure you look back and have that slight twinge of necessary guilt but an overall sense of satisfaction knowing that I served my purpose.

I was a tool in your recovery and you were my downfall. But, you were the best of all my downfalls, so epic in proportion I have difficulty understanding it today.

Today, three months later I sit at a desk in front of a phone in my work place which is greatly suffering at my hand because of my downfall. Because of you. Because of me. Because of us. I am your savior because I helped you rebound. Because I helped you realize you still had it in you. But, whatever you had in you I didn't get. And I never will and that is why I cry in my driveway when I get home at night, because I can't imagine going into a place that I live and you not being there. That is why when I have a rough day at work, which is everyday, I can't stop considering driving to where ever you are and begging you to release me. Release me from my doubt, my sadness, my utterly poultry existence without you.

Without you. My life without you.

It will never stop sounding wrong, because I still don't think I believe it. I still don't believe that the next time I see you, whenever that may be, I will not be greeted with a deep hug and a wet kiss. The next time we meet you will ignore and avoid me. You will feel guilt and all I will feel is grief and regret. I doubt I will be able to stand, knowing that the elation I once felt at the simple thought of seeing you will be replaced by this complex set of grievous, hideous and sometimes even physically painful emotions.

And yet. And yet. The phrase I hear in my head even when I'm crying over you is still,

I love you, I love you, I love you.

And I would do anything to have back those first few weeks when we were the only ones in the universe and we loved as if neither of us had a past, as if without our figures entwined there would be earthquakes, tsunami's. As if the world would end without us, without the quiet dignity and pride of us clasping hands on a busy sidewalk.

You are, have been and always will be my fondest memory, my greatest terror and my sweetest mistake.

On Sitting

We are all worms, But, I do believe, I am a glowworm.-Winston Churchill

I'm sitting on my girlfriends couch while she organizes our laundry, because I'm certainly not going to do it, and I'm thinking about the ability to just sit down and enjoy something without over thinking it.

I have explained, mi hermanos y hermanas, that sometimes my intelligence isolates me. Which is abysmally true, but lately it hasn't just been isolating me, it's been driving me fucking crazy.

I have this thing called thinking-constantly-about-stupid-shit-that-doesn't-make-a-difference-any-fuckin'-way. Like: whether I'm happy or not. The truth is: I AM! and me questioning it constantly is only causing trauma. I worry horribly about everything all the time and it became quite bothersome once I finally gave up my ridiculousness and decided to commit to something for the first time in my goddamn life. I learned that this worrying and incessant questioning is one of my giant walls that I've put up to keep myself from being happy, because god forbid that should ever happen to a previously abused person. I kept thinking if I just keep these walls up and even build some more I'll never get hurt. But, the truth is building the walls and keeping them up was taking far too much energy which, frankly should have been spent on me allowing myself to be happy. The whole time I spent not opening and not letting my walls down I could have been focusing on opening up and letting my walls down for the sake of my happiness and every one else's involved. I wasn't getting anywhere and so I had a talk with my ever-so patient girlfriend and she almost smacked me ( I would have deserved it) because I was being so stupid.

So I sat down and decided to give up the struggle.

And so now I'm sitting again and I'm very happy, thank you very much.

On the Explosive Flame

We are all worms, But, I do believe, I am a glowworm.-Winston Churchill

I guess, you could say I've seen a few things, known a few people and been a few places. I guess, you could say I've had a full life. I guess you could say I've had good sex, good food and good taste. I've been down a few roads, been told a few lies, been around the bend and back. But, lately it hasn't been the same.

I understand that not everything in life is meant to work out. I understand that love doesn't last. And above all I understand that generally people suck. But, with all of these things I understand, I'm not sure I understand that when you lose something, however small, it effects you.

I don't believe I've ever, but once, really been in love. But, in that particular one time case, it was unrequited and unrequited love is different than real love. So I guess I really never have been.

I've been in droves of relationship, all ending in the same way. They end. Promptly. Every time I get into a relationship it is always to jump in head first and to not think clearly about it for at least three months. This is how it used to work for me. I knew nothing else. And so I coined the phrase: " The explosive flame does not often burn long." and though I knew it to be true I did not head my own warning, in fact I did quite the opposite. I went against it. I jump carelessly in and out of relationships, falling in and out of one heart after another. And a few broken hearts and windows later I realized that though I thought it wasn't effecting me, it very deeply was.

I'm always the one that breaks boys. They come to me after searching for love and think they've found the One. But, I was never the One. And I think I never will be. This sounds scary to most people. But, to me it sounds like home. I'm not saying this is the way I want it to be, I'm just saying this appears to be the way it is. I don't think I'm meant to find Hollywood love, or Bollywood love, or any sort of dramatic, kissing-in-the-rain love. And this does not make me sad, usually. But a couple nights ago it really did. I came into my bedroom and the comforter was placed in just such a way to make the illusion of a body laying asleep in my bed. And for a split second I felt comforted that I wouldn't be sleeping alone. And then, I realized. And then I cried.

I don't suppose I've ever actually felt lonely before. I know what it is to be alone and I've always referred to that as loneliness in a literal way. But I don't think I've ever actually considered it a bad thing. I've always really enjoyed being alone, like really. I love to be able to do whatever I want, listen to, watch, and eat whatever I wanted. I don't like to have to worry about being with someone.

But the other night, I was despondent and lonely and I had never experienced that before. I suppose there's a time for everything. But I certainly wasn't expecting it.

I suppose that's when I realized that all of this jumping in and out of relationships thing has really effected my spirit. It's made me disbelieve in happiness with another person. And goddamnit it has made me lonely.

There's no one in particular I feel specifically fond of or hopeful for right now. There isn't even the faith that someone will come along. There is just the realization that whatever it that I've been doing, must be stopped. So, when someone does come along, even if I don't feel like it. I'm going to take it painfully slow.

Let's hope I've learned this lesson. Let's hope, I'll find a steady, well tended flame. And that I can reconcile it with my past.

On the Line

We are all worms, But, I do believe, I am a glowworm.-Winston Churchill

I like to think of my life as literature... However, lately it has been more of a Bronte' novel than Jane Austen as I prefer it.

I suppose that while I make my Pizza and read a good book some fear and doubt should creep in.

Last night was difficult to say the least. I've been trying something new: not lying to myself. I've been telling myself for quite some time that I'm the exception not the rule and frankly, this must stop.

After a struggle with anorexia long passed and the weight regain in the works I had decided to learn to love myself. And over the summer this uphill battle had been achieved. I loved my body, size 16 and all and I had learned to love not being wanted by certain people because I believe this weight gain thing has been an asshole filter. Let me explain: Check it out: When I was thin I was bombarded constantly by douchebags advances. I had never experienced this to that level before so I just kind of appreciated for what it was and lived life single because I was afraid of commitment. Is it strange that even though I was thin I still wasn't happy. I wondered at this because through the media I had been taught that happiness could only be achieved when thin. It's not that I wasn't happy with my body. I appreciated for what it was, thin but still pleasantly soft. I didn't mind the catcalling on the street in Chicago or the tools at the bars. I didn't mind any of that, I let it roll off my back because I just figured this was what happened when girls were thin. But, I wasn't partial to it necessarily. Sure it was a boost in confidence and kind of funny most of the time, but it wasn't what I was looking for, or so I thought.

I discovered that the reason I wasn't eating was because I was terribly lonely and wanted attention no matter how I got it. So I denied myself one of the things I loved most in life: food.
This is not and will never be the path to enlightenment. But, I denied myself that too.

I don't recall a certain time I decided to start eating again. I don't recall it precisely. But, I do recall a day spent with my surrogate Mexican family and all they could ever tell me was how I needed to eat or I would die. It reminded me a little of the archetypal Italian grandmother insisting " Mange'! Mange'!"

The purpose of life is clear: enlightenment. Plain and goddamn simple. And as I have said before, superficial ascertainment of happiness through the denial of human needs is not the way to go.

So I started eating again. I gained weight. And summer came.

I was not afraid in the summer to show my arms, I was not afraid to wear short skirts, I was not afraid to be seen in public in a bathing suit. I did not miss the onslaught of douchebags and tools. I did not insist happiness through denial of food. In fact, I became very, very happy with myself.

I loved my body in a way I never have before, even, dare I say it, more than when I was thin.

But, last night I found myself slipping back into self loathing, not just because of being a little heavier than usual. But, rather because I've found myself numb compared to the past years I've spent. Last night I was not happy with myself, in fact last night I downright hated my not skinny ass.

But, today is a new day. I came home from the stay-in-town-vacation I spent with Melody and took a long nap and when I woke up, the old addage came true yet again, " everything will look prettier in the morning." and though it wasn't morning when I woke up, it was around 7pm. I was pretty happy with life.

So, I decided to crack open the old book that always makes me feel better: Eat, Pray, Love and have some frozen pizza, while waiting for my best friend to get off work.

And though I know the struggle isn't over, I suppose I will live to fight another day.

Excuse the diatribe.