Dear Diary, or as I think sounds more sophisticated, Dear Word Press,

Naturally I’m losing. I’m losing. I’ve lost. Why not just keep doing that?

Didn’t I have a plethora of bullshit to knock the hell off and subtract?

Anything I choose to do this for vanishes so I push harder when I ought to laugh

Now I wake up, the treadmill’s right here, I cut my food… I cut my vitamin…in half.

Something happened to me recently. It felt a lot like the vague, unknown references I’ve been making over the course of the past several years – specifically, as if they suddenly had definition. And it all has to do with the odd way that my own weird world crossed over in to another one. I will try to explain it, for the first time, to the endless cyberspace in hopes that the energy created from that will somehow help me on this path.

One important lesson that I have learned during my adventures with someone else is that you have to be in love before you can grow together. There have been many moments throughout my relationship when I knew that some crucial factors were missing. With time and lots of harsh reality, my beliefs and perceptions of connectedness would twist and evolve when I decided that ideals could or could not apply to me in so many fractions. To be clearer, I have not been living the way that is best for me and I would battle, every day, talking myself out of thinking that there were different days ahead.

Things got to the point where I stopped seeing in to next week. I clung to a strict diet and would entertain the unhealthy thought of it being a means to eventually disappear. No matter how hard I worked to live in and run a house, or how much of a good person I knew my boyfriend was – no matter how many things I would find to pacify that thing growing inside, I ended up looking out of my window at my pretty garden praying to God that it wasn’t the view I would have for the rest of my life.

Please, please, please, no proposal today. I sought no intimacy from my partner.

Brad seemed so happy. Content. I could tell when we talked that he thought we were having a meeting of the minds and I would always step back within the conversations, like I could encompass his entire intellect on auto-pilot, and it left me with feelings of sadness and loneliness. Because I was always left with myself. I was not able to put everything in my heart, in to his. And even though he said everything was always for me and always mine, I did not feel right. I mastered the art of building walls between me and everyone else once I started believing in botanical vases and survival over passion.

That’s why I do this. Because no one can see me. They don’t see me. You won’t find me.

For some time now, I have been sleeping in a separate room and extending that separate universe that we were always in, anyway. My honesty would come in installments, how it stemmed a lot from my own issues within my own skin, and how it was time to face the truth. We never made any promises. We never even really went out on dates. We partnered together, tried to tackle living in the world and we have had a lot of really great times along with the bad. But the ‘great’ was no longer pushing either of us to thrive.

There was no one leading. There was no plan. It was me, helping to take care of things, lying down once in a while until I was done with having to do that, too, needing him if my tires got low, and him – loving me more.

It hurt a lot. It still hurts. Although there weren’t any promises, I know he had hope. We both hoped for a magical working of the wrong reasons being fully justified or changed to be right. Right as rain. Right as reign.

We enabled each other’s bad behavior. When I would tell him something that I wanted very much, it might not have gotten done. Just as well as when he said he wanted something very much, it was not a call to me to carry that out.

In my mind and in my garden, everything had names and secret meanings. Snap dragons were knights. Hostas represented significant references and sometimes I would bury things in the ground not knowing if I wanted them to rest or come back to life. An old idea of sappy romance, part of a model ship that I have kicking around my room – reminding me of when I had a ‘Titanic’ poster on my wall as a teenager, I could never take that little ship wheel out and bury it under the bridal spirea.

I still have it in my desk drawer.

Only one chair on the porch has a cushion and I was sitting on it like a throne within a kingdom. My flowers, my anonymity, everything I was trying to balance was my council.

The Dream Queen, a hosta I cared for very much, died the summer I put it in to the soil. There was always a war going on in my spiritual garden.

A friend asked me why I’ve been changing from how they’ve known me to be.

I said, “Autumn’s a season. It changes.” But that was just poetry.

I’ve lost fifty pounds. It wasn’t about winning – it was the weight of my soul on the track. It’s the shifts in the season that is always changing…

And the things I could never gain back.


How It Appears

It’s 5:30 AM and I don’t know why I stopped sleeping. The white paper I begin my moments with is full of objects, sounds, scenes, which probably has a lot to do with it. Typically I wake up blank, but for whatever reason everything is still here, replaying in parts, continuing to buzz and flow.

Things from yesterday.  The 3-inch-thick stack of semi glossy papers John flipped through with his fingers before sliding everything into a plastic bag and taking it out to his car mid-shift.

“I just don’t want them to get rained on.”

How I noticeably took interest in the documents. How he purposely refrained from angling them in my direction.

“You could probably guess,” he threw somewhere in there, quickly but almost regretfully. I shot him a look that said ‘Yeah, like crap for your new job because I’m always right that you’re leaving and not telling anyone yet.’

“Don’t look at me like that.”