cierra's Blog

You mean well, but you make this hard on me.
Date: May 10th, 2008 7:53:34 pm - Subscribe
Mood: disoriented


And the saga of life continues...days have passed. It seems like months since I've last written anything. I am looking at life through these windows, trapped in this body, this doorless cage. I am living my life as a visitor, as an observer. It's...disconcerting.

I went to the hockey game on Wednesday, staring down at the ice through the glass. I pounded on it, in excitement once or twice and I got no response, not even a glance or flicker in my direction. Nothing that made me think they could hear me; not that they would react even if they could. They have one focus and that's the game. My life is like that stupid hockey game...I sit and observe, watching everything go by, day by day, and as I pound on the glass screaming, laying my emotion bare, I don't get a hint of anything...a thought, a look in my direction. It doesn't mean they aren't enjoying or feeling the same as me, it's just that I don't feel like these characters I interact with even know I'm there.

And yet, could it really be there fault? I have been so withdrawn, so in my head that I just don't know what to say. I find myself drawn towards the people who know me well enough that I don't have to leave my head. I find it frustrating when they won't just read my mind, yet at the same I know that's impossible. You can only know a person so well...and so it goes.

With Mr. Picture Perfect out of the picture, Mr. Down to Earth, and Mr. High and Mighty have entered again battling for my heart. Yet I ignored them both and went for Mr. Reserved. Shy cannot be the word for him. Though he is shy, and he is awkward his silence is that of reserved silence, as well as a mixture of mistrust and shiness, not that I blame him. ...and though I've often wondered if my choice was incorrect, whenever I begin to doubt myself, and let my insecurities take hold, he steps around the obstacle as though it weren't there in the first place, and recaptures me before I have a chance to run...and that's just it about Mr. Reserved, he lets me be me. He gives me every chance to run, but he respectfully requests that I stay, not in words, but in action.

And I want to run! I want to more than anything! It was never easy to stay in a relationship...I was always distanced, always ready to run at the slightest hint of a problem I was running, and I didn't trust pursuit when I ran...that's what Mr. Picture Perfect always did. I'd run and he wouldn't let me have my space. He wouldn't let me have my time to breathe, calm down, and go back...but Mr. Reserved does! (whether he knows it or not....and he probably doesn't do this intentionally but that's the point...he doesn't have to try) I don't know...day by day I hope this gets better.

For now, I need sleep.
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Have you ever...
Date: May 4th, 2008 10:12:29 am - Subscribe
Mood: vamped


Fallen through the pages of a book so quickly that when you finish it you find yourself in a pile on the floor not remembering what's happened the past 3 days? Yes. That is pretty much how I crashed into reality after reading Stephanie Meyer's Twilight series (http://www.stepheniemeyer.com/twilight.html). I am so addicted to her books, Edward in particular. I didn't really care for Bella, she's a twit, but Edward. Gah. I am convinced that I WILL find a man like him in this less than fortunate real life of mine I keep crashing into.

Well, her new book comes out on Tuesday, and I will not be seen until I finish it. I promise. Breaking Dawn is coming out August 2nd, and I am waiting for SCRAPS of the next book Midnight Sun featuring the overly analytical and mysterious Edward himself. Gah, he wants in Bella's head. I want in his head.

Ok, my nerdiness comes to a close now.

Maybe.

I am at work yet again. Slacking off like I said previously in my latest entry. Meese is playing in the background...you know "Tell me it's ooooooooooveeer, eeeverything you hooooped foooooor Tell me the waaaay I know you know I never let this--teell me its oooooooveeeeer" blah blah...."Okay in the first degree, there's nothing wrong with me." Yeah that one. Playing obnoxiously in the background not allowing me to think!

I've often thought about writing a book. Perhaps my autobiography, but I have never wanted to look at my life as if it were simple enough to be written without every subplot, or side story. I hate to document things as if they were black in white...2D if you will.I don't have one simple plain of existance. I am not just Lily a daughter. I am Lily, a daughter, a sister, a mother, a friend, a lover, a girlfriend, a future wife, a student, a slave to the monotony of this boring life. I'm not black and white. Not just Lily who doesn't like pickles, spicy or rice. Not just Lily. I'm not "just" anything. And yet, it always feels like an autobiography is just one story of the many many a lifetime can see. Life is a book of experiences that form you into who you are...you can't just put down the bold points and feel that your life was appreciated for all that it's worth.

So I am focusing on my recent history, my recent state of being. And that is in the last few months I have grown beyond anything I wanted to. I no longer worry about the same things I used to. I feel like I don't look at the world through the same green eyes. I am not as young as I used to be...and that terrifies me. I remember walking by my lake a few short years ago. The sun setting beautifully in elegance, orange and pink winking at me across the water. I was breathing freely. I was happy. I was burdened yes, but by nothing more than the simple things that make young girls sigh, and stare into a sunset. I don't remember what it's like to be quiet. In fact I can't sit still...no time to sit. No time to be.

...and I am never alone. I'm realizing this on a whole new level. I used to run. All the time. And not in the sense that I'd swap my flipflops for running shoes and take off, no. I used to jump in the car on a dime and drive as far as I could, then I'd park get out and walk farther until there was no light left in the sky and the stars would sparkle at me in all their glory and tell me it was time to go back to avoid the danger that is partnered with dusk. Now it takes me 30 minutes to get ready to leave the house. I'm never alone...but I don't want to be alone. I can't be alone. I don't want to sit and let my mind wander.

I meet with my new psychiatrist next week. Mom wants me to talk to him about what happened. Part of me thinks it would be a good thing. After all...sitting there for an hour doesn't help anything. It's just like. "Yep, you're still ADHD; Here's your drugs, goodbye." Ugh...I'm also going to get a personal trainer.

So as much as I want to comlpain I'm never alone, I appreciate the company...and here I sit conflicted.

But I am always fine with absorbing into a book.
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2:15 on a Saturday afternoon...
Date: May 3rd, 2008 4:28:05 pm - Subscribe
Mood: comfortable


Guess what I'm doing?
Why sitting at work of course! Basking in the glory of having complete finished everything I needed to work on. It is absolutely wonderful. I had my feet up for a while but I found it difficult to type and sit comfortably at the same time.

"It is impossible to enjoy idling thoroughly unless one has plenty of work to do." -Jerome K Jerome

Absolutely! Except...I have nothing to do! Damn! I guess I do...just nothing to do regarding work. So I decided to get onto my happy little blog site and add another entry to this developing story that is my life.

Let's see...last year at this time I was still in school, probably trying to figure out how to graduate, and finish all the work I'd neglected to do over the semester. Now I don't have that stress. It's absolutely wonderful.

I'm planning a trip out to Philly with Pat at the beginning of August. I hope I can go through with it.

I have to finish this entry later, but hold that thought
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Better to have loved and lost...
Date: May 2nd, 2008 12:07:59 pm - Subscribe
Mood: delicious


And the point of that phrase being that you did, indeed, lose. If I lost Will, why the hell am I still getting updates? He wrote a letter last week addressed to MY son, talking about how he has failed in the past, and he'll fail again but you have to look at failures as situations that make you aware of what you have yet to achieve. And that nothing is unachievable.

Ok, Mr. Picture Perfect, bring it on. We'll see if you fail, or achieve your goal. Asshole.

And so continues this chapter in a book I keep closing. If he sends another letter I'm not reading it, not opening it, not dealing with this shit.

I guess I can acurately say that as I lay there on my hospital bed, sitting in my own bloody diaper, shaking with exhaustion every time I tried to stand, and staring out the window at a dark, snowfilled sky, my mind never once drifted to him, never once dwelled on whether or not he cared that I was sitting there, never once thought about how much I'll like to slap him silly. I was happy. Peaceful. Wishing I was not alone, true, but looking forward to a future without his arrogance, his anger, his everything.

And I found that! I found someone who is ten times better than he ever was. Someone who treats me like a queen, and I don't really know how to deal with that. Someone who's never raised his voice to me, a logical thinker, and someone who does not demand my submission. I can breathe, my God, for the first time in a relationship I am not being suffocated with all of it. I daresay it's Me suffocating Him!

And all because of hockey tickets. I remember quite clearly weaving in and out of a crowd of people, walking halfway around the rink looking for lemonade. We were seated next to the bar, not the lemonade stand, damn those club seats...
...the truth is I'm happy. Shy, yes. Scared to death, yes. But happy. I'm not addicted to him, like I was Mr. Picture Perfect. I'm not desperate for all of his time, I genuinely just want to spend it with him. It's like a cliffhanger every time we say goodbye, and I sit at home twitching, waiting for an opportunity to learn more.

"Don't get to attached to a relationship doomed to fail, Lily." That's hard...am I getting attached? Is it really destined to fail? Are things like, religion, politics, and life goals big enough to end this? All logic tells me yes, but my heart won't listen to my head. Instead I'm just driftwood...waiting to see where I'll be going next.
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I don't want to get out of bed today.
Date: Apr 29th, 2008 1:02:09 pm - Subscribe
Mood: romantic


I've had this feeling many times before. Just as everyone has had it...but it has always been accompanied by another sensation, a deeper emotion, a more serious concept that takes hold and chokes the innocense of of the simple statement of "I just don't want to do anything today." Normally this feeling is accompanied by laziness, the lack of desire, hopelessness, or perhaps if you're romantic, unrequited love. When you're young its the fact that you want to stay asleep, or its cold outside of the covers but right now, that's not it at all.

As I lay here, staring around my room from my elegant four poster bed, I can't help but remember all the different things my bed has been through. I chose my bed back in 1998, all by myself. I hand picked it, chose the wood, the mattress, everything. It was possibly the most comfortable bed, and it was beautiful. It was mine. My princess bed.

This bed has seen many a tearfilled night. It's seen many of my childhood sleep overs. It's carried me through my nightmares, and woken me from dreamless sleep. It's comforted me in the rain, and cuddled me on hot summer nights. It knows my every secret, and it's a very sacred place to me.

...and yet, through all the irony in the world it was on a bed that was hurt. It was on a bed that my heart was shattered. Looking back, I came across a peculiar memory on the shelves of the past...I was never completely naked. I never let myself be completely naked...

But that's beside the point. I am laying in bed, hiding underneath my covers, and trying to avoid the deep hole in my chest which still sears in white hot pain at the thought of being touched again. I read a book once that said "Physical touch can make or break a relationship. It can communicate hate or love." There was nothing more devastating to me than to be abused. The way that I show love, and know that I am loved is through physical touch, and it is devestating when the one thing that makes you feel loved turns violent. It turns hateful. I still don't trust touch. I still can't trust it...and yet, without it I lay in a abyss, a cavern of emptyness.

Moving on from Mr. Picture Perfect was no easy task. My silence from him was unbearable for weeks, especially as he called often, and I wanted so badly to get my fix. After a few weeks however the anger set in, and I was livid. I wanted to cut off every part of me that he touched, but most specifically I wanted to cut off everything that he liked about me. I didn't want to be me anymore. I stopped listening to music. I stopped dancing barefoot in the kitchen. I couldn't eat seafood. I couldn't drive the same streets. I couldn't see the same people he knew. I couldn't tolerate any of my friends drinking, or smoking...anything and everything that reminded me of him, that reminded me of the person I used to be I cut out.

In December I found myself again. I found the woman I had left behind. The chubby, giddy woman that I needed to be. I found some old friends I had cut out of my life. I found some new ones I'd never given the chance, and I found out that when you're not judgemental (it's hard to be judgemental and pregnant out of wedlock at the same time) the relationships you can have with people are endless. And so I find myself with a handful of friends that I feel that I can trust, each of them old, and new, and characters of their own, only to be developed later in my happy blog that I've started.

Since Charlie's birth I've concerned myself with nothing but him, my day is dedicated, and my purpose laid clear. This too shall pass...

As everything does now a days, I end abruptly.
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