when you're the last cigarette smoker in nyc

So, here I am. 8 years later. And it feels like not much has changed.

The people I've written about, I still remember.

The emotions don't ever really change or move on.

The hate in my eyes is still strong as ever as I make my way through this city.

A constant state of consternation.

Isn't that ironic?

It just feels better to write, while I sit here in this coffee shop and look around in disgust at what we have become as a society.

A father to my left talks in a baby voice as he makes a drink for his 6 year old daughter. She's definitely at least 6. I don't know kids, though. She could be 12.

I let out a big sigh, loud enough so he can hear. But, since I have headphones in, it might throw him off a little.

Daddy's girls are a concept beyond my own comprehension. I think it's clear at this point there are some underlying daddy issues, but I don't even like giving my dad the credit of all that glory.

8 years later

Nothing has changed.

:)

October 29, 2009

About 12 hours have passed since I started writing this. Hoping words would find me but everything has escaped.

Actions tend to speak louder than words and the actions that have been taken and words that have been spoken by him are nonexistent. A stunted, feeble attempt at communication is all that was received, yet I am left with a feeling of security. He's outdone himself yet again, and I feel my foundations shaking.

"Go after her. Don't sit there and wait for her to call. Go after her because that's what you should do. If you love someone, don't wait for them to give you a sign because it might never come. Don't let people happen to you. Don't let me happen to you. Don't let her happen to you. There are people I might have loved, had they run down the street after me or called me up drunk at four in the morning because they needed to tell me how they felt right then and there because they could not forgive themselves if they didn't. I always thought I'd be the only one doing crazy things for people who would never give enough of a fuck to do it back and the only one to act like an idiot, or be entirely vulnerable and honest. Making someone fall in love with you is easy. Flying 3000 miles on 4 days notice because you just can't sit there and do nothing is easy. Breathing into telephones is not everyone's idea of love, but it's the way I can recognize it because that is what I do. Go scream and be with people in meaningful ways because that is beautiful and that is generous and that is what loving someone is. That is raw and that is unguarded and that's all that is worth anything, really."

October 22, 2009

It's like a constant hit to the funny bone.

October 4-5

October 5, 2009

I am a walking contradiction. I feel almost as if I am not really there. The actions I take don't reflect what I am thinking. I feel like a robot gone haywire. A broken heart made me nuts. I feel almost as if I can remember the exact night I felt the switch click off, or on.

difference is, differences.

Things have evolved. I'm not sure why or how, they just have. I am sad.

We sleep on separate sides of the bed. It's almost as if we are in different rooms. We might as well be. We only speak in person, unless it is terribly necessary. Even that is beginning to lose its charm.

He gets nervous. When the boys are away, the girls will stray, but not me.

I would never.

I probably should.

But I couldn't.

I probably should.

forever

It's funny. Things happen right before your eyes, and sometimes you never see how obvious everything is until it's too late.

It's 1:16 a.m. I just want to sleep forever but sleep seems far away. I have a hard time sleeping at night lately. I have a hard time even finding words anymore, yet they're all on the tip of my tongue.

Nothing seems in place. I feel almost as if I have drifted off into what I wish I would never have become. Everything that happens to me just feels wrong as of late. I want a home to go to. Not a house, but a mind state sort of home. A place where I belong. I miss the feeling of security. I miss the feeling of knowing where I stood with everyone I knew. I hate this guessing game I've played for the past year. The constant worry and wonder of who is going to be around tomorrow and who really cares today.

I've paid my karma dues. Karma actually owes me at this point. My anxiety has taken a toll on me. It never goes away. It's quickly becoming my best friend. At least it keeps me in line when I seem to drift off. Like a flash back to reality. 

I can't even feel disappointment anymore. I don't even know what that means. It simply seems like a lifestyle. I'm always the first person to tell people to look at the bright side of things and stay positive, hoping that it will pass onto me. My hopes are so low, that it has become almost impossible to disappoint me anymore, which is good in a sense. It's bittersweet, but true. The less I expect, the more I can be surprised and thus, happy. Yet, why must everyone I meet be a let down? It's becoming impossible for any legitimate "good people" to be out there. Everyone has their own ulterior motives, be it someone using you to get to your friends, or someone using their friends to get to you. You can't trust anyone. It's disgusting. I really don't think I ask for much. I just want honesty and love. Don't tell me you love me. Show it. Be present. "Constantly speaking isn't necessarily communicating." Apparently that's too much to ask for these days.