Mmmmm...

i love walking into the shipping room when it smells like a fresh pressed cup of coffee. sans brew.

i really hate how emo-centric i've become. really, though. if you've spent anytime around me lately you'd think i were bi-polar and reconsider our friendship. i know i'm reconsidering it. i just don't know how to get past this part. i forget to write out the instructions once i'm back in a normal state of mind. it hasn't been quite so bad this time though. i've been able to talk myself out of a lot of it. i probably sound like a schizo doing it but it works for at least awhile.

i joined in celebrating(if i can call it that) a friends birthday last night and the one before. that's when it really kills me. when i know i can't just enjoy the moments like i should. the joys of life seem a bit distant. the moment i realize how ecstatic i should be to have such lovely delightful people around my heart is crushed. i want to be well for them now. i was so much easier to wallow when i limited my social network to the few friends that i could share a few choice moments with but at the end of the day there wasn't much invested. these ones make it that much harder.

and maybe thats why its different this time. not to get all spiritual on your asses but i'm, in a very strange way, discovering the beauty of the body and the importance of not having a "it's just me-n-jesus" veiw of this thing. which means i can't run (gah) even though its the only thing i want to do right now.
so thanks, to those of you who have and are putting up with me. the scowl on my face may give off that i'm terribly annoyed by you (and i just might be) but, please know that in my moments of sanity and clarity i adore each of you. and standing here all pouty looking means i haven't run away, which means i'm trying, more than i ever have and thats because of you.

-r

a little bit like crazy

thats how he makes me feel. a bit uncomfortable. i rarely feel so vulnerable as when he speaks. not healthy "i'm baring my soul" vulnerable. more "caught between the dropped towel and any form of clothing" vulnerable. strange. i have no tie to him. barely know his name. but his face is has been inconveniently stamped in my memory. and now i'm just wondering why. why it is there's so much i can't remember and somehow i'm finding it difficult to forget his odd stare. sometimes's its like the happy moments have been thrown out by the sadistic little man who manages the file labeled memories. bitter little man, only keeping the dark and painful. note to self: fire his ass.

laid there too long
without a sound
now i'm wondering when the the silence will go
and when my mind will start processing the words
i know are falling in my ears

its a wonder how much i write when i can't think straight
its starts feeling a bit like crazy when every thought
is more like narration than the random patterns
i (almost) grew accustomed too

bunny trails, thats what she called them
we'd all yell out "shoot the bunny," share a good laugh
and pass another pint of our favorite

i remember

the walls are up
my hands hurt from being thrust against them
in some mindless attempt to knock them down
by now the numbness should have set in
but not this time

i'm still hopeful

maybe it will be different this time
maybe this is the one the one i've been waiting for
maybe this will be the last time

maybe

stared straight south for ten minutes
hoping somehow my gaze would bring you closer, faster.
it didn't and i'm still here waiting.

i spent 5 years waiting (well, really
3 if you subtract the year i spent forgetting or at least trying)
its time now and i hardly feel worthy, much less adequate.
but i find that comforting.

i'm seeing face to face now. its not pretty
but its mine. dark as it may be, its yours.
you knew, you still do. and for these small moments
thats just enough.

a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down

at least that's what Mary Poppins taught us. but what do we do with a generation who has been given the sugar with no medicine? how does one go about telling a child that they've been lied to without crushing or wounding them more deeply? how can a grown man find truth, spoken through harsh words, acceptable?

speaking the truth in love...let your speech always be with grace
that's what paul taught. truth must always be given with grace & love. but when we've become all about love and acceptance, even tolerance, how do we add in truth without turning everyone against us? how do we make ourselves understood? how do we seperate the person from the action, the mindset and most importantly the emotion.
in our quest for happiness, we've overlooked the truth. we've pursued peace and ended up spineless. we've fed ourselves sugarcoated lies, and now find ourselves all the more hungry.


oh love, how you've ruined us.
hope, you have made us weak.
grace, you have made fools of us all.