miles and miles to go

There is so much prestidigitation, all the smoke and mirrors might actually draw blood, there's so much moral turpitude.  I had a hard time reconciling my own written words, so I've written and rewritten this a dozen times...

My life is stranger than fiction and this might be one of the strangest and still one of the most exciting things that ever happened to me.  There was this time, when I was incredibly naïve and I started talking online with a well-known writer.  He wanted to start a record company and I was going to be his PR rep, and since I have an affinity for music, we set out to find the right 'one' to set it off and be the first on our label and on vinyl.  We searched and searched, frantically even, for the perfect talent - someone with the right look and sound (he was very selective) my how we scoured the internet, only to be disappointed around every corner.  Then, he found someone to do the artwork for the label, set up the site and we came close to finding the talent.  We must've pillaged every social media outlet we could, but we just couldn't give it wings, all the while he was working on his movie.  Ultimately he abandoned the label and then me.

He was beautiful and all of his friends were beautiful.  He was funny and brilliant and a little odd in ways difficult to explain, but intriguing nonetheless.  He was a writer with a degree in psychology, a former model, and had owned a magazine company in his 20's, an avid collector of all things vinyl.  Then one day he digitally started to fade away. And while he made me realize some things about myself, when I was done playing a part in his story, we both seemed to settle back into our lives.  He was onto better things, like making a movie and I was surely off to dazzle the world and fall in love.  He used to tease me about it but he also use to tell me how he loved me.  His movie comes out next year.  I am looking forward to it, even if we don't talk anymore, and he treats me like a stranger too busy to nod in my direction, I will always remember those few months.  Still, I know a lot about him, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt he was real and I know a lot of things that perhaps bother him enough to leave me behind.  We will leave it at that.  I do miss our late, late night laughing and talks, his stories will stay with me forever and some of the tender moments we shared will be some of my fondest memories, but mostly I miss his laugh. 

When I think of him now, I smile.  I'd love to share some of the truly amazing and even gritty stories, and the ones that seemed almost magical, but my favorites will always be the strange ones - things you just can't make up.  Better than any fiction, I've ever read.  I'm saving those for a book under a surname, I think it would be best to protect most of the characters in those stories...

I fall in love every day - every single day, with countless people for countless reasons.  I'm not in a rush to be in love - let alone date, so, I'm okay with being in love with life right now.  Seems, my journey isn't over yet.  I've miles and miles to go and many more pages to write.

I still believe my love will find its way to me and I to it.  I've met some pretty awesome and amazing people.  I could complain that people weren't who they said they were, but truth be told, it's just more words to fill more pages and truth be told I have some pretty amazing stories to tell.

Some day I'll get to sharing those.  Just have to shrug off this writer's block and finish a few chapters before I can move forward...
 

there it goes...

I miss my baby, my munchkin.  I know he's enjoying his summer with his big brother and that makes me smile. Too much time to think, being alone, without him. 

 

Honestly. I keep thinking of just so many people I talk to or talked to and the idea that I might find something worthwhile.  It's really hard to come to terms with saying that, as I always fare on being positive. About everything.  I loathe the whiners and complainers and I detest all pity parties. (especially my own) I don't just believe in being positive, I believe in finding the positive in even the worst circumstances, but this is not for everyone and it certainly isn't for me...anymore. I put everything I have into people, I give everything I am, sometimes too much and yes, it can be overwhelming, but I love hard.  I'm so exhausted and so frustrated.  Hope is so fucking dangerous, it's just so fucking dangerous!  I want so badly to believe in people, that I actually believe in them. And because I'm honest, I foolishly think they're going to be honest. It's so fucking disheartening and frustrating when reality washes over me. I'm so in love with the idea that people will be just as honest with me, that even with all my trust issues, I still find myself believing in them. Everyone's so fake.

 

When the realization hits, and it is that all anyone really wanted was someone to pacify the time - or to learn they're already with somebody else or you're just convenient or a passing phase.  Damn it!  Someone to help them through something, to help them move on. I'm just that girl to pass the time - and the sad reality is I'm never gonna be the girl somebody really really loves and wants to spend time with until they die. I'm never gonna be that priority or come first in someone's life or be someone's best friend or their everything.  It's a pipe dream.  The idea that I will grow old holding someone's hand and laughing on a porch bench is fading.  And now I just look stupid, sitting here at my desk crying, like a silly little child, over my own stupidity, my own naivety.  Foolishly thinking that people in my life that I thought would always be there, would somehow always be there.  That all I had invested into loving and caring and worrying for them only to learn the hard way - sometimes years and years later, after the damage was too far gone, that it would ever be reparable - Me - the Queen of a billion chances, throwing in the towel and giving up on people that were everything to me, that I thought would be my family or a friend for life.  That I would've gladly given my life for, that I sacrificed for, would somehow be real or that the idea of loyalty and friendship or real romance was within my grasp.  Reality is a harsh dose of fuck you and the truth is everyone just uses everyone.  Now all these little pieces of me are gone and I just feel all used up.  I hate feeling this way. So fucking sad and vulnerable and always having to pick myself back up always repeating the same mistakes, always trusting people.

 

I used to think if I loved everyone enough they'd love me back the same or that they'd someday return what I was so eager to give.  Now I spend my days alone and watch, observe, remember and toy with why I was always loving everyone, waiting there, hoping to be loved back. It hurts, it fucking hurts. I'm letting go of something that's carried me through my life. All that hope, just washing away. As if anybody would ever reciprocate or love or care or want the same things.  With every little piece of me they take, I slip farther and farther under, unable to pull myself out of the river.  It's all so fucking bleak. The gleam in my eye is gone, the burning flame in my heart, but an ember. I fought so hard to keep the flame burning bright, I'm letting go.

I dip my toes in the River of Hades, only to fall in and be consumed by darkness. This is where I am now, it's where my heart lives and at least I know it's real.

  

And with each new wonderful person, I think - yes, and I hope - and then I realize, no, stupid you're all alone. I have my parents and my kids, my brothers, and maybe a few true friends. 

 

...this idea that I keep allowing myself to believe, this mistake I continue to repeat, I'm done, and with it, goes all my hope.