Your Words

I bind together all the love letters you ever wrote to me
I keep them tucked under my bed usually
But under my pillow when I get so lonely
And I want to feel close to your words

In reality you are a man of few words
And that is why I cherish each of them
And I sing my lonely late night love songs to you
I hum to you, knowing you may never hear me
Or see me, but I see you
I know you

And they may knock on my door
But I won't answer
I'll just lie here
Surrounded by paper
Surrounded by the echo
Surrounded by the whiskey kisses I will never know again

I tell myself I'm not wearing black for you
But it isn't the truth
I tell myself that I'm not crying for you
But it isn't the truth
I tell myself I never loved you
But it isn't the truth

I bind together all the love letters you ever wrote to me
I keep them tucked under my bed usually
But under my pillow when I get so lonely
And I want to feel close to your words again

Ramblings about a Toyfriend

Why are men so damn complicated?!?!? LoL*
"I wish. I wish more than anything. But I can't imagine you with all your complexity, all you perfection, all your imperfection. Look at you. You are just a shade... You're the best I can do; but I'm sorry, you are just not good enough." -Inception

In an earlier post I talked about how my Toyfriend told me that he had tried really hard to have feelings for me during these months we've been together but he couldn't. Even though I was virtually perfect... he just didn't feel for me in that way.

That was fine. After shedding an hour's worth of pitiful tears, I came to accept it.

Then yesterday we were texting (we have always texted like 200 texts a day. I'm not exaggerating either. My phone holds 400 texts per conversation, my oldest text is from yesterday at 4:51 pm - so there's been 399 since then. That's crazy talk, right?!?) and he was kinda asking me about if I were going to sleep with anyone else while he was gone. He said it's easier for girls to find sex than guys.
I asked him if he were fishing.

He says he just wants to know if I were going to sleep with someone else or what the deal was.

Of course I jump to the conclusion that he is really asking for himself.

So I say that I don't have any intentions of finding someone else.

"But if something happens I won't be mad at you. You have needs and we aren't exactly committed. And you've told me you don't have those sorts of feelings for me. So I don't want you to feel like you don't have your freedoms"

His response: I wasn't entirely honest about that Monica.

Shit.
Shit. Shit.

What do I do with that? I asked him what he meant. He said it isn't a text conversation.

True fact.

But. But. But.

I have my draw bridge half raised! Most men pull away or dump me and I build a full-fledged fortress wall. Brick by Brick. But with him... it's always been a draw bridge. But do I really want a relationship with someone I even need a drawbridge for?!?

Blargh!!!! LoL 

Dear Someday,

When you're broken into a million pieces you feel nothing. But when you are missing a single piece you feel everything. And I know my patches of duct tape, hot glue gun dabbles, paper clips, and string that have tied and stuck me back together are unsightly, but I am waiting for you to love my stitched up patches for what they are. I hope you one day add your healing touch to this broken Raggedy Ann doll I have become. My hope for you is what keeps my eyes shiny and my feet skipping.

I look forward to the day I can call you mine. And love won't be such a mystery for me any longer. And I won't have to write pretend love songs, poems, letters to a pretend you. You, Someday, will be Today and Forever. And I will be happy.

For now I wait on tip toes for your earth-shattering kiss to come unlock this spell.

Come Quickly!

Yours ~*~ Monica

So it Continues...

Quick note before driving back home. I am officially employed in Houston! So I can soon start being the little girl in the Big City. I am ready for this. I am officially crazy, a nut case about where to find storage for my belongings until we have an apartment...

I mean we found one. It's gorgeous. It has a pool and a porch, washer and dryer, dishwasher and garbage disposal, cute courtyard where we can meet people. And about 5 minutes from my new job and 7 to my Dream Job. Only problem we have right now is: The realtor sucks and there was some flooding during the vacancy, so the wood floors are a little warped, which means we need to talk to the owner about whether he will do something about that.

So it looks like we will have 3.5 people, 2 ferrets, and 2 cats in an efficiency for at least a week.

Joy!

But we will be a happy effeciency of cramped people living the Bohemian Houston dream. Drinking coffee and Tapioca Green Tea, and scraping by on hopes, dreams, and an occasional dead body... (don't freak! My roommate and gay-soulmate, love of my life - works in the morgue. And one day I tell you how he saved the world from the Imminent Disaster called The Zombie Apololypse.

Scary business.

Thank you for joining this epic journey of my life!

You can't fool the Fool. You can't jest the Jester.

"To let a fool kiss you is stupid; to let a kiss fool you is worse."
—Anonymous

I almost feel as though I can't add to that. I can't take anything away from it either.

I've done both.

I've done both multiple times.

Sometimes our heads just don't comprehend the difference. Sometimes we are the "kiss" fooling the other person. I can think of a boy I fooled. And I had no intention.

He was the first person after my ex. He was a drunken accident who turned into one of my closest friends. That boy has seen me cry more than any other (non-related or ex-husband) male on this earth. And he stuck by me. Nicest thing he said to me was, "If you need to be taken care of; I will take care of you." I was sitting at his kitchen bar while he cooked for me. I was crying because my mother always made me feel guilty for not taking care of her every whim and my ex always blamed me for everything gone wrong. Everyone always wanted me to spill blood for them, but if I did anything for myself I was selfish and awful.

No one had wanted to take care of me... until him.

It started innocently enough. I had left my ex a month and a half before. He was good friends with my cousin. I wasn't used to drinking, because while I was with my husband I was never allowed to drink. So I was very much a light weight. And so hookah turned to kissing, and kissing turned to foreplay, and then I just didn't say no. He was upfront and honest... he never dated anyone. And frankly, hello?!? I wasn't looking to date anyone. Plus, although our personalities were great together... both sarcastic and could make each other laugh... he was not my type. So it was perfect. We were the ideal "Fuh-WuBs" as I deemed it (Friends with Benefits). Loved each other's company, but didn't want commitment... what could go wrong?!?

He decided after the hundreds of girls he didn't want to date... there was one he did...

Me.

I didn't reciprocate. He was my friend! And only my friend. I had stopped having sex with him regularly months and months before. But everytime we'd hang out somehow he'd convince me to sleep with him. Then I'd feel so guilty, because I knew those caramel whiskey brown eyes really loved me. And he'd never felt that way about another girl. And I cared about him. He's honestly (besides ex) the only guy I have slept with I can say I've allowed myself to love... but just not romantically.

So my kiss. My embrace. My laugh. All of it fooled him. He told me he didn't understand... how could we be perfect for each other, but I wouldn't date him?

I've learned the hard way what it's like to make a Fool & be the Fool. This Boy #1 would still drop everything to be with me if I gave him the word. And he now lives 8 hours away. Love is a funny thing. It's hard to satisfy, and harder to quench.

When I was Foolish

Past is what our Present looks back at and laughs saying, God, you were silly back then.

Two months shy of my 21st birthday I was standing in my grandparent's church getting married. I look all of 15 in my wedding pictures. I looked like a foolish, doey-eyed teenager. I wasn't one strictly speaking, but I probably was still thinking like one.

There are a few underlying reasons why I got married young. The simple one: I was in love. This was before I realized there are two different kinds of "love" - real love vs. emotional connection. More complicated reasons that I didn't even have a grasp on until later: 1) I was running away from a shoddy home life 2) I was young and emotional and Christian-guilt stricken from having premarital sex.

My mom and step dad skipped my wedding. Claiming God wouldn't let them come. My grandpa walked me down the aisle -- he was pleased because he doesn't care for my mom or stepdad (mostly my mom). I should've known we were doomed. Not because of my parents, but bc for different reasons a majority of my closest friends couldn't come. It should have been a red flashing lighted sign blaring "OMEN!!!!" But I didn't see it. I couldn't see it. I wish I had seen it.

We married. We moved across country. To his folks and away from everything of mine. I'm sure it's skewed this many years later, but I don't ever remember being happy for long periods of time... even for a full week at a time. And my happier memories are when he wasn't around. Two months after our wedding day, in July, was the first time he hurt me. We were arguing about goodness knows what, and he ran at me and tackled me like a football player. I laid in the hallway under him, dizzy from hitting my head on the carpet and so confused.

He was confused to. He sat up quickly and asked if I were okay. I didn't say anything. When I was able. I went into the spare bedroom and climbed in bed, crying. Seeing all the WE channel's made-for-tv movies flash before my eyes. I wasn't going to be one of them. In the morning I would call my grandpa, tell him my mistake, and have him fly me home. Away from this.

But then he'd come and beg me to go to bed, cry, tell me he was sorry. I'd go back to our bed. My feelings hurt, but still loving him. This happened twice that month.

We did two sessions of counseling. Then once, when our counseler was on the way to our house for a session, my then-husband called me a whore and a slut for liking the show Sex and the City. People, he was the only person I'd so much as kissed (since I was 5 like stated in an earlier post lol*)... obviously a whore. When the counseler (who was also our friend) got there I refused to come out of the room, because I was embarrassed for crying so hard.

That ended our sessions. It always bothers me the counseler didn't try to further our sessions. I feel like he dropped his Christian/family friend duty.

By September I had decided I would stay for a full year. Everyone kept insisting the first year is the hardest! I could give him one year of my life. Easy peasy. Maybe he would get better. But in January we found out I was pregnant. I cried for a month straight. I was tied down now. He was ecstatic. I never wanted to be a mom. I'll be honest... I fully believe that he wanted to be a dad more than a husband. I was just a means to having a baby.

So I didn't leave. May came and went. I stayed and he got less physcially abusive. You sigh a breath of relief, but don't exhale quite yet... In September we had a beautiful, healthy, tall baby boy. The. Love. Of. My. Life. We were a happy family of 3... for about a minute.

I was very weak after having our son. I passed out a lot, because I have low blood count and lost a lot of blood. My husband turned to video games and wouldn't even help me with bath time. I'd wash my son and carry him to the changing table. I'd leave him naked and have to sit in the rocking chair next to the changer and hope he didn't pee. I couldn't stand long enough to even diaper him. But my husband only wanted to play shooter games and talk on his headset. I was alone.

It wasn't until New Year's Eve that it turned physical again. I decided I wanted a NYE party. I cooked and cleaned all day. He sat around video-gaming and complaining. He told me about an hour before our friends and family arrived that I needed to vacuum the basement steps. -- They were steep and I was still weak. I was still cooking. So I refused to do them. It was snowing, so stuff would be tracked on them anyway, if it were so important he could do them (he hadn't helped with anything all day!!) He threw a folding chair at me - I barely dodged - and came and had me by my throat against the wall - twice. All because the stairs had cat fur on them!! I was a new mom, I had cooked and cleaned, I am sure our friends and family wouldn't judge our stairs. And if they did I did not giving a flying wasp's hoot! I looked at him, crying, "I thought you had stopped, you've been so good. You didn't hit me at all when I was pregnant." He looked at me, "That's because I didn't want you to lose my baby." He walked away. I believe he did vaccuum the stairs.

His mother could tell I was upset. But I lied, because I didn't want to ruin everyone's holiday. I just told her I had never hosted a holiday party and I was nervous if everything tasted okay.

After that night, I stayed two more years.

Sad Goodbye

I drove him to the airport today.

Last night we just laid together. He held me so close. All night. As we were falling asleep, him spooning against my back, he spoke in a low voice, "I'm going to miss this." I said, "Me too." His voice dropped barely above a whisper, "I'm going to miss you." "Me too." Then two tears escaped my eyes and I brushed them into the pillow.

Even after he told me he tried so hard but never had feelings enough to date me, he still acts like he wants me. Still talks about our future in a month. I can't decide if he's still pretending for me. The entire ride he kept reaching over to hold my hand, or push back my hair. Talking about how he'll see me in a month. How last night he held me (and not tried to sleep with me) because he was feeling sentimental. He'd lean over and kiss my head. He kissed me fiercely when he left my car at the airport. "I'll see you in only a month."

Only a month. A month isn't an "only." Maybe if I was going to be waiting here for him. But in a month everything will have changed. I'll be a little girl in a big city. He'll be deciding whether to stay in Texas or move to Arizona. Wait to get into college here, or join the military.

As I drove away from the airport, crying, I just felt in my head and in my heart... It's all going to change. Tomorrow is another day. A day further away from this day. Further away from this life. Closer to reality, and no more pretending.

Mirrors

When my cousin comes to visit me he always tells me how much he loves my full length mirror. He says it makes him look really skinny. Mirrors are just illusions. We've all been to a circus or amusement park that had the special mirrors that made you skinny, fat, wavy, or a look that could only be "Picasso."

And we carry these illusions forward into our everyday life. How often do we allow people to see us for what we really are? Flawed. Damaged. Vulnerable.

Instead we want a Superman persona. Nothing can touch us. We want to be independent individuals. Always smiling. Always smelling pretty. We want to stay on the right side of a phone booth. Even if Clark Kent was a pretty cool guy! Sweet, bumbly cherub face. No one wants to be vulnerable.

One of my low points this semester was sitting and crying through two of my classes. My grandpa sent me a not so nice email that morning and I foolishly read it. I knew both my profs could see me tearing up. Neither said anything. My Government Prof is really great, and he just looked at me with a little bit of pity as I pulled the tears back. My second class was Art History II and the lights are always off, but I know he saw me crying and texting the whole way through class. I told my friend it'd be fine, because he was an artist and understood human emotion. It didn't seem to bother him I was texting. But being honest. Crying in class or really in front of most people - isn't something I do. Image has always been important to me. Too important. I can admit that. It's part of the reason I stayed with my ex-husband so long. Why only my Mother-in-law knew about the physical abuse. I was ashamed. I wanted the perfect marriage. I didn't want people to know we struggled.

I didn't want mirrors reflecting my constant sense of innocent's loss everywhere. I look at pictures from those days and see only hollowness in those blue eyes. Even ones where I'm smiling.

After I left and started to get physically healthy again people started telling me I had beautiful eyes. It was so strange, I hadn't noticed (because I've always been given that compliment my whole life) during the married years no one had said that to me. Because they were hollow, dead, and only sad. And not the pretty sad you see in photographs.

Mirrors lie all the time. People lie more. All we can do is get past the shattered mirrors. And become the illusion we cling to. So we can stop pretending and be real! :)

Weekend!

Okay, drawing a little away from the pity party of the past blogs... It's the weekend! And classes are over until the Spring. This semester has been a cold case murder all year. I just couldn't get my time management skills caught up. I was originally taking 15 hours and working 2 jobs. When I wasn't serving the grumpy world coffee or dressing ladies in INC (a brand) I was at home or at my Toyfriend's -- procrastinating. Netflix is a dangerous game. Like Russian Roulette.

Don't read my Poker Face...

So now, I seriously have to get in high gear packing up my stuff and finally moving. I am finally making (God can only hope!!) a really great decision. And if you knew me, and maybe readers can one day say that they do, you'd know... I have made some crap-tastic decisions in my life over the last many years.

So now what? By this time tomorrow my boytoy will be gone for a month, and when he gets back I will have moved. And we finally had a talk... and the boy tells me, "That's just it, you are literally perfect. And I've tried I just don't have those feelings for you." Knife. Gut. Blood. And twist. (sounds like a really terribe martini... hmm... mmm... Martini!!)

But it's true. It's our damn chemistry. I know he isn't the one for me, but like the No Doubt song, "I kinda always knew I'd up your Ex-girlfriend" -- and even though after 9ish months & we've never been official, it still hurts. My favorite line from that song... "And I know when I see you I'm going to die. I know I'm going to want you and you know why. It's going to kill me to see you with the next girl. Cuz I'm the most gorgeously jealous kind of ex-girl." But as much as I mentally prepared myself for this day, knowing tonight might very well be the last time he holds me all night... kills me. He's one of my closest friends. And I've watched him pull away, and I've watched him pretend, and it sucks knowing we're both going to be hurting. And yes, I definitely feel like a fool. And I certainly hear my best friend telling me, I told you so! -- though she never would. At least not in such a cliche fashion!

I just have to remember... I am moving! My life will be better. I will be in the big city! Something this little girl has always wanted. And I will (no offense to anyone) be away from a town where the average age is 21. Eww... gross! LoL* Adultland, USA here I come!

It's going to be positive. I am going to be positive. You will see! :)

The (so-called) Man of My Dreams

So I guess spoiler alert! As aforementioned, the first man (and so far, only man) I fully gave my heart to wound up hurting me pretty bad. It's almost pointless to go into the sappy love details.

But. At first he did love me. God, you could see it in his eyes. It looked like they were melting into green M&Ms when he'd say my name. I didn't love him at first. My best friend asked if I loved him... I said, I just feel like I'm supposed to take care of him.  And for years I did just that. I was his Jesus. I always tried to make it better for him. He was prone to sadness and ultimately anger.

He never appreciated me.

But was there ever dog that praised his fleas? - Yeats

And that's how he saw me. Before we were married he fought so hard for me. Afterwards, I was just a burden. A trinket on his shelf. A punching bag

And bigger spoiler alert. Guess who's getting remarried?!?!? You're right. Not me.

I wasn't good enough. I wasn't meek and a rollover china doll. But there's more to come! Years of self-sacrifice and nothing to show for it. And months of funny, life changing ex-capades.

Moon and Fireflies Post 1

They say all beauty can be traced back to a broken heart. And mine is breaking. So why not start telling people about it. I could say it's about a boy, but that might spoil the ending. So I can start at the beginning and one day you'll know it's not just about a boy... it's about the losing of one's innocence, when she realizes the world is not what they write about in Harlequin.

By the age of 19 I knew nothing about love. At least not the sense of being "in" love. I had had plenty of school girl crushes, but overall I was pretty innocent. Never been kissed, well except a boy when I was about 5 years old (yes, tongue lol), barely had held hands, but I wanted these things. I had read enough of those Harlequin romances to know that. -- When I'd visited my Grandmother (who actually is very well read and now retired from teaching college Speech teaches literature to prodigy children) I'd borrow her lighter reading, because I could read a couple books in a visit.

I'd also by this time, experienced enough life to know Harlequin was unrealistic. But still, my young fantisies involved a good man, who thought I was beautiful and loved me and wanted to rescue me from my home life. And that was a mistake. Believing I was the exception and could experience a fairytale was a mistake. I wish I could talk to the girl I was then, and change that foolish mistake. But I am not. I am not there to save her. Hell, this many years later... I am not here to save me.

Side Note: Dear Future, please invent a time travel device... or... Let's do the Time Warp!

In college I was trying to pursue a relationship with God. I had chosen to start drinking at age 18 (though was never drunk until 21 -- true story!). When I left my home town for college I wanted to mend my ways. And become more involved with Jesus. Though I am no longer religious I am glad I wanted this at that age.

I met the only man I have ever truly loved during my first semester at college. Don't be fooled... I didn't say that in a tender way, just factual. God, I grew to love him.

My fondest memory of dating him was: walking in the dead of night around campus having a serious conversation. One of my traits is I have to be moving to have a heart-to-heart. Even on the phone I pace. But anyway, we were walking and I was squicking bugs with my sneakers.

*squish* *squish* "Every man in my life has hurt me. My father killed himself when I was 11, my grandpa told me it was my fault, and my step dad was slightly abusive." I told him, not meeting his eyes, but instead, finding my next bug to squish.
That silly, silly boy - that at the time I didn't know I would really love said to me, "I will never hurt you."

Funny. I remember telling him that of course he would because he was human. And all humans hurt other humans at one point. But I could never, ever imagine him hurting me as much as he did.