done wrong

the wind is ruthless
the trees shake angry fingers at the sky
the people hunch their shoulders
hold their collars over their ears and run by
it's a cold rain
it's a hard rain
like the kind that you find in songs
i guess that makes me the jerk with the heartache
here to sing you about how i've been done wrong

and i am sitting, watching
out the window of the coffee shop
and i am waiting, waiting
waiting for it to let up
i am rocking like a cradle
warming my hands with the cup in between
i am leaning over the table
holding my face over the steam

and before it gets so cold
that the rain turns to snow
there's just a couple things
i'd like to know

like how could you do nothing
and say, i'm doing my best
how could you take almost everything
and then come back for the rest
how could you beg me to stay,
reach out your hands and plead
and then pack up your eyes and run away
as soon as i agreed

it just all slips
away so slowly
you don't even notice till you've lost a lot
i've been like one of those zombies
in vegas
pouring quarters into a slot
and now i'm tired
and i am broke
and i feel stupid and i feel used
and i'm at the end of my little rope
and i am swinging back and forth
about you

before it gets so cold
that the rain turns to snow
there's just a couple things
i'd like to know

like how could you do nothing
and say, i'm doing my best
how could you take almost everything
and then come back for the rest
how could you beg me to stay,
reach out your hands and plead
and then pack up your eyes and run away
as soon as i agreed

half the time the world is ending.

I've spent a lot of time in my short lifetime worrying. I worry about whether I am doing the right thing, the wrong thing, the best thing, the worst thing - whether you think it's okay, or if you will never be able to look at me the same. I worry about today, tomorrow and yesterday. I worry that my wounds won't heal, and I worry that eventually I will stop being able to pick up the pieces all by myself. I worry that tomorrow might not come. I worry that yesterday will never stop haunting me.

Some days, I think that I will probably have no choice when it comes down to it - that goodbye is the only way for me to grow. Other days I feel like I can't breath without you. Every day I feel pain, for being neglected. But I have lost - I don't stand a chance against the person you have created of me. I have nothing left - I tried to compete in a race I lost long before now. And I come out of it, broken and battered and worn and in a wreck. Somehow, it is still not about that. It is about this, and that and then and there and when that's all been sorted, there is still no time left over. I have never went after what I needed - have never set standards to ensure my needs were met. I have always settled for what I want, in hopes that needing something would come along in time. Well, here I am - long past the finish line and I'm still in need.

So much time has been lost, days that can never come back. And if I died tomorrow, would you say to yourself "I tried my hardest"? I know I couldn't.

I don't know how to be something you miss

it's a chain reaction. I start to put pieces together, and make progress through the maze inside my head, in which I have been stuck for so long. Then, just as soon as the direction is there it is gone. And it's just that, I can't fix it. I can't change the direction because, the moment I do, it is a counter move to you. This is natural, how can it not be? We protect what makes us safe, it only makes sense. But when the day end comes, I realize one very important thing. Regardless of direction - I can't live being hated by someone I love. And whether that hate is shared equally for humanity, or if it is divided or if it is reserved for just those you love the most - it doesn't make it hurt any less. And so, bags packed - I am facing the unbearable. I don't want to admit this is happening, I don't want to start dealing with the pain because it means I have accepted the fate of it. But it's time, it's been too long - and so the real hurt will begin. I will lay, broken on the floor, until eventually I can pick up the pieces together again. Time heals all wounds, they say.

and dreaming, pick up from - the last place we left off

Like a choke hold, the missing has me stuck in place. I thrash around, trying to hold onto something, anything to anchor me away from here. I just want to be somewhere else, anywhere else. It feels like sinking - I am in quick sand, and there is nothing to pull me out. I'm just going to stay here, until the end comes swooping over me. And it doesn't have to be this way, we don't have to be sinking. I just can't do anything from where I stand. Hopeless, helpless - I'm begging.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bfa9yxCpWoA&list=FLoxe3Yc5_jovNxeQ9nA1oDA&index=2&feature=plpp_video

three

blog posts, msn, facebook = communication. what the fuck has it come too? a babysitter - to come there. not ONE single person I know would condone me coming TO you, and they would especially not come babysit for me, to enforce it happening. Your dreaming.

3 days. I'm leaving for 3 days. What happens after that is all up to interpretation.

but you ain't leaving without a fight

I lay my head down, take a deep breathe, let the tears flow from my eyes, stinging my cheeks as they run down the carved out path. Continue breathing, hold back the shaking, clutch something to stop it. Curl my legs up into my stomach and wrap my arms around them, hold them in close. Choke back the sobs that are creeping up through my throat - begging to be released. Bury my face in the sweater balled up at the top of the bed, it still smells like you. The hours pass, I come in and out of sleep. Restless, haunted by nightmares that always feel too real. Baby wakes, I pull him in close and hush him back to sleep... roll away and lay with my eyes closed shut, holding in everything, holding up nothing. Fall asleep, for an amount of time I couldn't possibly record. Wake to a wet pillow, and realize the tears did not stop while I slept. Get up, and start all over again.

is he different, has he changed - or is he just a liar, with nothing to lie about.

BAM. Explosion. And I'm to do what? Oh yeh, pick up all the fucking pieces. Put it all back together, by myself, in the rain no less. And then when I admit defeat, acknowledge that maybe it's just too much to do alone - I am once again, at fault. So what I am to do when it's always wrong in your eyes? You can't ask someone for the world but keep the gravity for yourself. So I do what I can, keep to myself - and mend the broken hearts. I'm starting to come to terms with the sad truth that if I can't trust one thing, I probably shouldn't count on trusting much. Words are cheap, and I'm running out of time. I've left it all open, I've kept a place for you - but eventually, there come's a point where you have to work to keep a place just given to you. Not everything can be handed on a silver platter. Stand up and fight - show me the person I found in the beginning, before it all fell down.

speechless

there are no words that could efficiently describe the intense and relentless emotions that course through me these days. i feel like i've said it all, i've done my best to acknowledge, and begin dealing with, the surface problems. but there are no right moves when your standing in the middle of a mine field. it's just a matter of waiting for it all to blow up in your face.

you take whats yours and ill take whats mine

pretend that it wont change anything for them, we both know it will. anything to give you an upper hand. this incessant need for control over the daily course of life is only getting in the way, and stopping any progress. so whose to say they're not better off? i don't believe the thick and poison laced whispers that escape from your pursed lips. i don't trust the vague attempts. i don't understand the cruel and vile temperament. and once again, here i am - left with nothing, but everything at the same time. here i am, expected to make my mark... when i'm all dried up and i don't have any juice left to move onwards. and i'll watch them grow, without someone who promised forever. if it's not great, it's not good enough.

all wrong

I am listening hard, through the splintering shards, of my life, as it shatters. I go through the motions, and it feels all wrong. Nothing fits, nothing seems to flow anymore. And somewhere I feel as though I am missing something important. You'd say I'm missing you, you'd say I made this choice. Who is to prove you wrong? I'm certainly in no position, no state-of-mind to be proving much of anything. You've heard it all before, so have I. Still, we don't move forward. If anywhere, we go back - and mull in the puddles of memory. and I miss the smile I found on my face on cold nights like this. But I now am in a position of questioning 'did you ever bring that smile?'