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Duely Noted

I am in the process of starting a new blog. This one won't be deleted and the new one will still be hosted on Blogger, but I want something fresh. This blog goes all the way back to 2008 and has a lot of things on it that are so far in the past that when I took the time to read them yesterday I felt like they were written by a stranger.

My life is obviously changing right now, and I feel like I'm starting a completely new book, rather than just another chapter in my old one. Because of this, I've decided that this is what I want to do.

Work with me as I create the new location: Duely Noted. (PS: I know that "Duely" isn't spelled correctly - at least according to new English - but the proper spelling was taken and I felt like I liked this better anyway.)


She lives!

I have things that I should say and that I want to say, but that I don't know how to properly put into sentences.

I haven't posted in a while. I've been all over the place, especially inside my own head.

I am 20 weeks pregnant as of two days ago, and my baby kicks like there's a party going on. And I'm the neighbor, getting no warning on when it's gonna get wild 0r when it's going to completely die down (which will unfailingly be the case whenever I'm trying to show Boyfriend). Nope, I just feel the effects dulled by this layer between us.

It's magical, though, in all honesty. It feels really odd and I wish I could explain it properly to Daniel, who is increasingly jealous that I get to be the one who gets to experience it firsthand. I'm sure he's grateful he doesn't have to put up with all of the bad parts, though. Sometimes I think that feeling these movements is the only part of this that doesn't completely suck, but I'm beginning to feel more positive about the whole thing now that I'm regaining some of my energy. I know I'll hate it again later, don't worry. In fact, that's probably not far off now that I'm also beginning to feel like the most unattractive thing that ever existed. Luckily I have the greatest guy ever reminding me that he finds me beautiful, even if I don't particularly agree.

Let's see here: I've been spending a ton of time around CJ, my dad's newest daughter, who will be a month old on the 8th, and Boyfriend is going to get to meet her for the first time tomorrow.  My next ultrasound is on the 30th of this month, and so I finally get to find out what this baby is - then we can finally get planning for its arrival started. Well, more on track, because it's already kind of started. Anyway.

School is out and so I'm just trying to entertain myself, which is hard. Things are boring. I've been reading a lot. My sister is out of school on the 8th and then I'll actually begin moving to the apartment. I can't wait!

More eventually, I'll try not to disappear for an entire month. Until then, have a wonderful everything.


A nerd moment, and something to look at.

Okay, so two seconds to be a total spaz, if you don't mind.

One of my absolute favorite bloggers (and there are probably only enough of them for me to count one hand) not only read and replied to my comment on her own blog, but took the time to come here and comment on one of my posts. I love it! And furthermore, if you haven't discovered Annah at Red Means Go yet, you obviously don't know how to live your life and should definitely click her name there if you want to know what true happiness is.

...Just kidding guys, I love you. But really, check her out. She talks a lot about vodka and sex and cupcakes and dogs (all of these mutually exclusive, I swear), she's a Cuban by birth who is currently living in Miami, and she rocks.

Aaaand, other things have happened in my life I think, but I'm going to go ahead and write about those things later...because my brain's a little bit too tired to come up with anything decent.

Because I'm too lazy to actually write for you here are some things to look at:

These flowers were just thrown on the ground in the parking lot of the church we were at.

I couldn't resist them.

I like this one better sideways for reasons I can't really explain.

I took them last Saturday while I was with Boyfriend and his family. This cute little girl kept following me around once she realized I was taking pictures (related to Daniel in some way, but I couldn't exactly tell you how - she was one of those in group who weren't introduced to me), but she wouldn't actually talk to me. It was adorable nonetheless.

I'll try and  post something more entertaining later. In the mean time, have a wonderful everything.

PS: I felt the first outside kick from the baby yesterday. I don't want this blog to be all about the pregnancy, but I can't help mentioning something that felt so exciting.


What a road.

It's been almost a year since I gave up on everything. Within a single semester of college I had adopted a new group of friends, taken to drinking on the weekends, and risen to smoking a pack a day. My boyfriend at the time hated smokers and drinkers and wasn't the best human being to be attached to in my life even when I was living the life of sobriety (which was only the case because he demanded it). I was extremely unhappy and, feeling trapped, was perhaps looking to rebel against him in some way, and so I did a lot of this behind his back until I dumped him at the beginning of the summer.

Giving up led me here. I'm convinced it was the best choice I've ever made.

That summer, everything changed. I was newly single, I lost weight (which I had been failing miserably at doing for some time), I was making new friends and revamping old friendships that I had had to abandon for my relationship. I was having the time of my life, and when I met up with Daniel again after maybe 2-3 years of not talking (besides running into him in the WinCo parking lot, the only place I ever seemed to see him) it was a pretty awesome feeling.

Now I'm completely infatuated and don't know how I went two years in the most unhealthy situation of my life when I could have instead been involved in something so wonderful. But maybe I appreciate this more now because of the hell that I went through before.

Maybe I don't regret anything, I can't exactly be sure. I do know that I've thrived on the strength that I had to leave as soon as I decided I wanted to, especially after so long of subconsciously forcing myself to stay. Before that day I never really even considered ending it, I simply felt like I was in a situation that sucked but that I had no control over. Yet once I made my decision it only took me days to breach the subject; I cried only once, beforehand, nervous over saying what I wanted. But I did it and just like that, I no longer felt emotional connections to the person that had been in my life every day for two years.

He called me two days later and asked me if I was ready to take him back, followed by the question, "or have you found a new boyfriend yet?" which he tried (and failed) to deliver in a joking manner. And I did what any respectable woman would do: I told him about my night at the church with Daniel and how happy I was to see him again.

And now he's mine and I'm the happiest I've ever been.

PS: If you want a (very brief) explanation of the church story, check out my About Me page. You'll find it in a tab at the top.



Someone needs to buy the book Water for Elephants and give it to me. Because you love me. I've been dying to read it for quite a while now and sort of started to once inside of a Borders store, but I ended up leaving. I've been too poor to buy it myself and now I have to spend my money on things like bills and a baby and life. Sigh, whatever.

Water for Elephants
Seriously, I want it.
I'm afraid to go and see the movie because 1) movies are never as good as their books, but I can't bitch about that if I haven't even read the book for comparison before seeing it, and 2) I don't know who would actually go see it with me and I would hate to be that loner in the back of the theater. Also, did I mention I'm broke? If you know of any jobs available where you don't really have to do anything while still getting paid tons of cash for it, call me. Ice cream testing is welcome.

I'm very tempted to tell you all to donate your awesome old books to me, but in just a matter of weeks I'm going to be moving from my very small room to an even smaller one that I have to share with Boyfriend and, in approx. five more months, a screaming infant, so I might not have the room (or even the time) for them after all. Oh well.

Looks like my hobby continues to be writing. Now if only I knew what to say. Oh, life.

PS: You can pretty much ignore this code. FDZW84T9CBBQ


That's life.

Here's what's happened since I last least that I can remember, because I'm sure a ton of uninteresting shit has happened otherwise.

I met a ton of Boyfriend's family for the first time on Thursday, the 5th of May. This is mentionable only because he swore it would never happen. He's not exactly family-oriented, and hasn't even been around  most of them himself for a good portion of his life. He never wanted me to meet his mother and has mentioned that the baby never will. I'm not sure if that's changed or not. It was interesting, and I wasn't disappointed. I actually got along well with everyone I came into contact with.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this in earlier posts or not, but a few months back my boyfriend's dad found out that he had lung cancer. Well, the reason for the family gathering was that his health had taken a turn. Toward the end of this visit, Boyfriend asked me to go into the room with him, and it was a horrible thing to see. His dad couldn't talk, could hardly hurt to watch. He mostly stared at the wall, but would look at whoever was talking some of the time. Boyfriend pulled me over to the side of the bed, took his dad's hand to have him feel my stomach and, as we had agreed not more than an hour prior, informed him that we would be naming our child after him should it turn out to be a boy. And so it's decided: if it's a boy, we have a Mark Allen on the way, named after two people that we have loved dearly in our lifetimes.

His dad passed away the next day, on May 6th, and I only wish I could have been more of a presence while I was in that room. I wish it were easier to find the words you want to say while you still have the means to share them.

My first mother's day (as a soon-to-be mom, rather than a current one) was this last Sunday, the 8th. That was nice. Boyfriend and I picked up food and went to a park, where we sat and ate in front of the water. It was cute. He was super excited to do something for me that day, even though we couldn't do much; my dad was stuck at the hospital where his child was being born, so I was on call all day. Kept having to leave to pick up and feed children, and etc. It was still nice, though. It was the first thing he said to me when we woke up that morning, "Happy first mother's day." It felt strange to hear, but in a good way.

Mm, Boyfriend's dad's funeral is this Saturday, on the 14th. I feel awful and even though I've lost a ton of people in my life, I still can't find the right words. I guess I'm doing alright, though, because he sent me a message last night out of nowhere reading, "Everything is perfect with you, and you make everything better." He let me know that all of this has made him feel closer to me. So I guess even just allowing him to cry on my shoulder is if being here for him is a chore.

Anyway, this is life right now. I'm 17 weeks tomorrow, the nausea is (for the most part) gone, and Monday is my next appointment. I have to get blood drawn (not  my favorite thing to do), but at least I'll be scheduled for my next ultrasound. Hoping I get to find out the sex at this one (it depends on whether the baby is being stubborn or not). I'm really excited.

Anyway, have a good day, week, month, year, to the best of your ability.


Anybody found the pause button on life yet? Please share the secret.

Good news: I haven't puked in three days. Also, I've eaten both ice cream and sour cream in these three days! This actually is an accomplishment, and it feels kind of really embarrassing to say so. I'm hoping the morning sickness is on its way out permanently. And let me just say, I'm hoping really, really hard.

I don't know how to transition, mostly because I don't know what else I want to say.

I'm moving at the end of next month. Most of me is super excited and can't wait for school to get out already so that I can just GO. I miss Daniel all the time, whether I've talked to him in the last thirty minutes or not, so that'll be kind of a relief. But this will not only be my first time living with a boyfriend, but it'll be my first time officially living on my own...ever. That's kind of the cause of the very (very, very) small part of me that doesn't want the move to happen. It's scary! What will I do without my daddy? Pretend I didn't say that.

I'm 15 weeks and 3 days pregnant with Baby (hitting the beginning 4 days here in less than thirty minutes!); I love Boyfriend so incredibly much that I kind of don't know what to do with myself, and I know that I want the three of us to living together more than anything. Still, I can't stop picturing the room that I've been in since I was 12 being empty of my things, and it kind of makes me sad.

Truth is, being an adult is freakyweird and I don't know if I'm ready.


I need to get out of my house, I think.

It's kind of hard to keep up with a blog while you're pregnant, because what are you supposed to say? "I puked again today"? Really. I've quit smoking, I don't see my friends very often because I'm so often miserable, and every day is sort of becoming the same routine on repeat - go to class if I have it, lie in bed, see Boyfriend, come back home. I'm currently a very uninteresting person.

I'll try and fix that soon.

...Oh, I guess I could give you an actual update? I'm exactly 13 weeks today and I actually went to my first ultrasound yesterday. Boyfriend's uber supportive and kind of ridiculously adorable when it comes to talking about the baby, so all's been good. :)

I'll ramble more sometime.


Oh, hey.

Life is all crazy lately, but I've finally stopped puking long enough to be a bit more social (this only accounts for the last two days, though...hopefully it lasts longer). I'll try and update sometime - when I remember that my blog exists between all of the chaos and it is simultaneously not one in the morning on a school night. Soon, (I really hope) that means soon.

I hate not being able to sleep. Good night, for what it's worth.


Let me brief you here.

I know I haven't posted in a while, but that's because a lot has been going on. I've been sitting here debating with myself on whether this is a good excuse, though, for lack of updating a blog - if there's a lot going on, I should have a lot to say. It's not as if I haven't had the time to post...I suppose it's just that my mind hasn't been in the right place. Anyway, I'm here to update on the status of my life as of right now, though I probably won't go into much detail until a later post.

The drama in my house has been reaching particularly intense levels, and I'm not exactly fond of being a part of it all. My dad's only (very, very) recently informed us that his girlfriend is 7 months pregnant and that they're going to be married the beginning of next year. And now I'm pregnant - 2 months next Thursday. It's been insane, and I'm extremely grateful to have Boyfriend. He's been supportive and helpful and logical, and he wants to be there for every doctors appointment, wants me to live with him so that he can experience every moment with me. I appreciate the fact that he didn't turn and run at first mention of our situation, like a lot of young males might have done. Anyway, I'll explain more later what happened when I outed the news, both to family and friends.

As of right now, I'm just getting everything in order and working toward moving into the apartment with Boyfriend and two of my best friends (probably his best). I doubt I'll have a phone there and I know I won't have internet access, but there are Starbucks locations all over this damned town, so I'll be able to pick up wifi every once in a while.


Or else!

You tell that fucker that if he doesn't answer me immediately, I'm going to hit him so hard that he'll wake up and ask what day it is. And we'll say Thursday...a year from now. Only I probably won't actually do that, because I think it's pretty obvious that they'd send you to jail for hitting someone so hard that you put them into a coma. I think. Maybe I'll just kick him in the thigh hard enough to leave a bruise. Yeah. You better answer me, asshole!

I'm so threatening, I know. Whatever.

These things happen

When my sister and I are together alone (it makes sense), we have the strangest conversations ever. Here's today's:

Taylor: I think I'm gonna tell my kids that chocolate is drugs so that they'll be afraid to eat it. And then when their friends give it to them they'll give it to me and I'll eat the fuck out of it.

Sister: Yeah, and then when they're 14...their friends will give it to them, and they'll try it and get a sugar high.

Taylor: Yeah! Like after we have a fight he'll be like, "FUCK MY MOM!" And he'll totally try and rebel by eating it.

Sister: Then he'll be like, "What is this supposed to do to you? I can't...sit...STILL!"

Taylor: And then he'll come home and tell me he has no friends left because of his reaction to chocolate...I think this is the best plan EVER!

We're normal.


Let me say things that aren't that interesting real quick.

I've basically had the most random few days.

I don't remember which day it was, but I basically spent a day just hanging out with my sister and Kendra. Took my sister to get a haircut while Kendra and I scoped out surrounding stores. We decided to check out PetCo, and obviously we had to freak ourselves out. Right? How can you not? There are SNAKES in there and even though there was a sheet of glass between me and this thing I was still afraid it was going to eat me, and so why shouldn't I get in its face? Don't mess with my logic.

We pretty much took pictures of all of the things that scared the crap out of us because we're fucking weird and it for some reason entertained us. My Facebook status for the day? "At PetCo with Kendra and Megan, taking pictures of creatures that give us the heebie-jeebies and talking to fish. Lmao!" Yeah, we talked to the fish, what of it? Also, Kendra watched a bunch of very tiny mice run around on their little wheel and they were all trying to run at the same time and every once in a while one of them would get stuck on there and would just lay flat and hang on for dear life. And she laughed. Hysterically. It was kind of hilarious.

I think I hated this guy most of all.

Anyway, on Friday I had Butter pick me up and we were going to go hang out with a friend but no one could get a hold of him. So instead he called up Boyfriend's sister and met up with her. Boyfriend said he didn't want to hang out that night, he ended up saying he wanted to last-minute. Butter had been drinking so he let me drive his car and it was awesome. Because I'm used to driving the Mammoth, that's why. Driving that little car felt kind of weird, and now my dad is making fun of me. Something about me refusing to drive the van less than a year ago and loving it now. Shut up, Dad.

Mm, Saturday was fun for a while, but things got a little complicated and full of drama. I'll cut some of the story off out of respect for B-boy, but I'm a little frustrated with him. I was sober driver that night so I got to drive his car home from Ivanhoe and it's in that car that I had a phone thrown at my face and people trying to jump out of the car at 55mph, and I just might punch him next time I see him. I was too angry to punch him that night, so I just went to sleep. Ha. Anyway.

I applied for a bunch of jobs today and still plan to check out a few more places, so I hope I get something soon. I told my dad that I'm searching for a job and he asked me if I was planning to leave. Ha. I think he forgets that I'm 20. Not planning to leave tomorrow or anything, but work with me, Pops.

I think I'm done with this. It wasn't as interesting as it could have been, but you know, I just felt the need to write it down. Whatever.

Happy Valentines Day, assholes.

Valentines Day is funny, but I can't decide if it's funny-ha-ha, or just funny-sad. It's the one day of the year where everyone has to act like they actually like each other; married men have to remember to spend money on their wives or suffer a woman's wrath, children have to buy little pieces of foiled-covered cardboard and give them out to a bunch of other 8-year-olds who they don't even like, and teenagers get to bitch that they're single again - as if they don't have the rest of their lives to fall in love (it's really not that much of a tragedy, high-schoolers).

Furthermore, while I was walking home today the flower shop was absolutely swarming with men trying to pick the right flowers for their significant others. Here's the thing: stop with the flowers! It's like, "Here's a token of my love. Only you have to make sure to keep them in water and to properly care for them, even though they're going to die in a week either way." Yeah, work for my love, but don't expect it to last. That's so romantic. (Also, I just don't appreciate almost being run over by a bunch of dudes trying to buy flowers at 1:30 in the afternoon. You should have had this shit figured out before your wife woke up. Someone was obviously in some hot water, mm?)

And so, what the hell? If you're going to bother telling someone you love them, tell them on a day that you're not obligated. Stop pretending that 'love is in the air.' In reality, everyone hates everyone, and yet we're all pretending that we love each other because February 14th said we had to. Here's the deal: I won't believe anyone who says they love me until tomorrow. Even then we're getting a little iffy. Maybe just don't tell me you love me until March.

And uh, yeah. There's a quick rant for you. I have class tonight and I really need to get my homework wrapped up before then, so I'll update this later.

Au revoir.


I'm better!

So I seem to be over my sickness, save for some coughing. It was only really terrible for maybe three days, and then a day that I wasn't bed-ridden, but which did consist of intense sneezing. I feel a zillion times better, but now everyone else in town seems to have it. I spent last night with Boyfriend, his roommates, and Kendra, because I was feeling better.

Taken today. :)

Boyfriend's roommate is sick now and completely blames me. She has every right to because I went over there on the day that I was the worst, but ha ha, I feel so bad about it. I keep telling her it's boy's fault, because he's the one who talked me into going over after I said I was sick. They won't let me get away with that excuse, though. This morning she told me not to talk to her, not even to look at her, because she's still mad at me. She says this is all my fault, and keeps reminding me of such. My bad, Chels!

I feel like I haven't done anything all week, and wtf, when did it end? Now I have to bust my ass to get homework done even faster. I do not approve of this.

Anyway, just updating on the status of my health, because the few posts as of late have been about my illness and the fact that I wasn't posting. How interesting, right?? Not that this is any better...whoops. Maybe just ignore this one altogether.

More later.


I know this person who thinks that they're just the best thing since sliced bread...because they blog. "I'm not a writer. I suck at writing. That's why I'm a blogger." And I'm like, wait, what? You can't you decided to blog? And you're the fuckin' cheese because you decided to blog? When you can't write? I'd be proud, too...?

But seriously, this person never shuts up about it. It's like, yawn, "Tehe, sorry. I was up all night blogging. Have you read my blog? Oh, sorry about that, I seem to have dropped my blog. Have you read it? My blog? I blog. I'm a blogger."

I've thought about asking what a blog even is just because it would be hilarious...for a split second. Until they decided to actually explain, because my sarcasm is usually wasted. And then I'd have to listen, and my listening is not often wasted because I'm bad at ignoring.

It's a curse.


Sick, update, uninteresting.

Every time I laugh, I cough. And every time I start coughing I just can't quit. I'm thinking reading hilarious blog posts probably shouldn't be an option for today, but man, I can't stop. Oh, well.

I have class at six tonight and I have, once again, completely neglected my homework. I really need someone to come over here and smack me every time I start to get off track. I've been a real slacker lately, especially now that I'm sick. Sigh. I'll probably walk in again tonight with nothing done.

I know that I'm supposed to have things to say if I'm even bothering to post, but I honestly just don't. I still feel like crap, although I'm working my way better. I've actually improved a bit since last night thanks to some ridiculous miracle medicine, but I'm still suffering the decline of this. I haven't been this sick in a while, and the medication seems to be fucking up my thinking process. It makes me so freaking tired.

Have a good day, and I promise to post more when my brain's functioning in full again.


I feel like shit.

Basically, I've been sicker than a dog for about two days. I feel like a zombie all the time, even when I take medicine. Probably especially when I do, because then I'm actually capable of moving around even though I still feel like shit, and I don't know, it makes sense to me.

I motherfucking hate being sick because I get body aches, and nausea, and migraines, and I'm a big ol' baby. The nightmares are the worst. It's the only time I get them and they're so intense and I'm so groggy that I wake up thinking they're real.

Anyway, Boyfriend took care of me last night. I told him I didn't want to come over and ruin his night with my miserableness, but he said I couldn't ruin his night and then spent the whole time making sure I was okay. He got me water, and offered to make me food even though I was too sick to eat it, and cuddled me and got me blankets, and just did whatever the hell I needed. What a sweetheart.

My brain isn't working right and I've got class tonight, and I'm just going to stop typing now. More when I'm not pumped full of cold medicine.


So here's a post and shit.

I totally started to want to write something, but I'm so tired that I lost it in an instant. Last night was terrific - all of my closest and favorite friends were in one house together, which is wonderful considering that until last night a few of them didn't even know each other. I loved it.

Anyway, a lot's happened lately, and I think I forgot to mention that Daniel asked me out on the 30th. The process went something along the lines of us kissing, him calling me 'babe' and me questioning it. Then, later, Kendra had told me that she thought it was a very bad idea because of the fact that I have obviously been harboring feelings for him, and that I was most likely going to wake up feeling regretful and jaded. I expressed this concern to which he replied, "Would you be my girlfriend?" I obviously said yes.

I think the point of explaining was that I was going to mention that Boyfriend is going to spend time with his nephews tonight (aka the most adorable children on the planet) and that I will probably spend time with Boyfriend. I'm not sure whether these things will inter-lap or not, but either way works for me.  For now, I need to shower and meet Kendra at Borders.

Maybe comment here and tell me something interesting. Or go over to my nifty little page there at the top and give me ideas for things to post when I have writer's block. Have an awesome day.


I never said goodbye.

What I remember the most is sitting on my bed with my head in my hands, tears pouring down my face. I'd been through as much as the average teenager had, but unlike some, I wasn't unfamiliar to death; still, this hurt more than usual. I had seen my grandfather, with a serene face, in a shining black casket and I had seen my nine-month-old nephew's body in a much-too-small white one, his legs still bowed from never having learned to walk. I'd had friends go, family both young and old, some near-strangers. Still, each time it felt like disaster had struck; not one of them left me without a feeling of despair. I learned young that, though life is the longest and most constant thing that any of us will ever experience, the saying “life is short” is the truest of clich├ęs. Life doesn't last forever—others come, they most often go before we have the time to prepare, always before we've said the proper goodbyes.

This hit me harder than anything I had ever experienced; it absolutely paralyzed me. My best friend in the entire world, someone with whom I had been the butt of numerous jokes, was out of my life forever. I didn't even have the time to blink. He had always called me when he felt down, but something changed; I never got to find out what that was and no one will ever be able to tell me. He didn't leave a note. He didn't leave behind any explanation whatsoever, not in any form: he didn't take the time to email me, to leave me a last stupid voice-mail, to at least give me some secret code in his behavior. He didn't change his personality in surrender, some indication of his decision. He didn't show signs that left me in fear, anything that could have given me the hint to pay more attention. He gave me nothing after so long of cluing me in to (what I thought) was every emotion, every hardship that was thrown his way.

Now I am forever left in the dark, as if he were my sun; at the time he may not have been the exact center of my universe, rather an off-centered, obscured satellite, but he was always present. One disaster, however, has completely changed my focus, and now its one of the most constant things on my mind. I'll never feel whole without some explanation, any insight into what he was thinking in those last few moments. What triggered his decision? What was bad enough for him to ruin a family and numerous friendships, to give up on life in the most harrowing of ways? What exactly brought him to tie a noose around his neck in the gloom of his own garage? I'll never know, because he has completely blackened my chance at understanding forever; he has, at the very least, dimmed my world.


And last one.

These are from my creative writing journal, if you were wondering.

Your bodies fit together like you were designed that way, like yin and yang. You felt like two halves of a whole. Your uniting was the solution to a puzzle you were never sure you'd be able to finish. You expected it to sit on your kitchen table forever, mocking you, reminding you of your defeat. You imagined the dog had swallowed the final piece.

But eventually you will adopt different outlooks on life. You'll stumble into a new setting or state of mind and ultimately discover what it is you were looking for, even if you had forgotten you were ever looking - Spring Cleaning, maybe, revealing what it is that was missing. You'll be able to finish what you started and feel the warmth of having done so.

And maybe it won't last forever - that's okay. Puzzles weren't made to. They need to be repackaged and put away, because sometimes you really could use the table space, at least until you find that one that's so impressive that you actually want to go to the trouble of gluing and framing it, of keeping it around for good.

What you'll gain from the initial attempts are worth the trouble, and you should never stop trying.


The good times, because they'll keep you going.

The bad times, because they'll make you stronger. They'll help you to appreciate the good when it's handed to you, rather than overlooking it and understanding later what you neglected to realize in the moment. That's a drag.

Little imperfections, because they characterize the people you love. Those close to you are defined, beautifully defined, by their imperfections, and what may annoy you at times will be the things you remember when you've lost them. When you realize that these things weren't as irritating as you believed, that they made that person who they were. Quirks matter.

Remember that even though things aren't always going to be in perfect order, there will always be something to look forward to; you just can't see it right now. After all, we can't all be psychic.

Nothing makes sense.

I saw you last night.


Just sayin'.

This guy? Needs to not be dead. And not be old. And marry me.

Taken from my badass notebook, full of badass-ness. Neither of these are words.

I'm irrationally afraid of the dark. I mean, sure, a lot of people are, but I'm not using the word irrationally lightly here.

Let me set the stage: say I go into the back yard at  two in the morning for a cigarette, okay? It's nearly pitch black save for the lights you can see from maybe stores? Because apparently my neighborhood doesn't believe that light which isn't the sun should exist. My neighbors and family are all sleeping like normal people should be.

And then there's a sound. I live near the most trafficked street in town, so I should be thinking, what? It's probably traffic. Somebody's house cat in roaming my yard. The breeze is passing through the trees and nothing's going to eat me.

However, in which direction does my mind immediately go? WILD BEAR. And that thing floating in my pool? Is an alligator, obviously. And there's a cheetah in the bushes, and I'm probably about to be eaten by a malicious, fire-breathing dragon who will roast me with one breath and skewer me and share me with his friends by some kind of dragon campfire, and oh my god, did I forget my sword?

Realistically, nobody's been eaten by a dragon since Medieval times. Probably. Just to be sure, though, you should probably check the closet. NO, NOT LIKE THAT, WEAR SOME CHAINMAIL.

Anyway, I've been attempting to adopt a better outlook on life; little progress so far, I think. Wait, what does that have to do with how this started? No idea. I'm not very good at transitions sometimes.

I guess there are a lot of things that scare me in my life - most irrational. Oh, there's the connection!

For instance, someone touching my spine? Freaks me out. And the window being open while I sleep. Why? Because spines snap, and because hide your kids, hide your wife, and hide your fucking husband, because they're raping everybody out here.

For you, this is probably humorous. You're probably singing the song in your head right now, and oh god, isn't it so funny? But do you know what it means to me? IT MEANS CLOSE THE FUCKING WINDOW, ASSHOLE.

Or you can leave it open. But don't say I didn't warn you. If you decide to ignore this, maybe include a cute little sign, "Rapists Welcome."


This was supposed to have a title, but I didn't make one until it was already posted. My bad.

You know what's funny in that way that something's not very humorous but someone starts the sentence like it will be so you're all pumped for a joke that's never coming? The fact that I can't write humor. I know, you're totally laughing your ass off right now. Stop that, you're making me blush.

Anyway, in a seriously serious way, I'm terrible at writing to make people laugh, even though in person (some) people seem to get a kick out of me. I guess you need the tone of voice to add to it, or maybe it's my facial expressions? I've heard I have great expressions, but I wouldn't really know. Wait, are you saying my face is funny? I'm suddenly offended. I'll never take that as a compliment again, assholes.

I think I had a point, and I think it's that I can at least try and make you laugh every couple hundred posts, but I don't promise anything. Usually when I do, it comes across as forced and fake and nobody's laughing except for the people who laugh at other peoples' pain, because they're fucking dickbags. Whatever that entails.

That's the best I can do. Probably. Actually, I bet I can do a hell of a lot better, but that's never motivated me in any other area of my life and why should I suddenly change for you? Selfish prick.

I think I went from like, never posting to posting entirely too much in one day. Even though this post and the one before were totally not from the same day, and for some reason my dating's all wrong. Great.


And I'll always love you.

I remember that the day I turned sixteen I invited a few friends over to my house. For some reason, every girl except my cousin canceled and only the boys showed up.

I wound up sitting in my living room with Candyce, Anthony, Charlie, Rodney, Marc and Allen. I think I was seeing Marc at the time, and Allen was going to the military academy. His eye was blackened and swollen from that fight at Crestwood Park, and it looked absolutely awful. He opted for wearing a bandanna across it in some fashion or another most days that he went out.

I remember that I had a wonderful time, even though all we did was play video games on my living room couch.

The first time my dad ever laid eyes on Allen, he had walked me to my car after school. Dad asked me what I was doing with such a large boy, told me that he looked like he could absolutely crush me, that he looked scary. But after people got to know him, they realized that Allen was one of the sweetest, gentlest boys in the world.

After he broke his leg, my dad would actually go out of his way for me every morning to pick Allen up from his house to save him the hobble to school. I really appreciated that. In reality, my dad is typical - he hates the idea of me dating, he hates the idea of me growing up, but he wasn't stupid. He knew how much Allen meant to me.

I have so much to say about him that I don't know if I'll ever be finished talking. I could write a book on this boy, and maybe someday I'll try. Anyway, I'll just end this with: Thanks for the memories, my forever best friend.

And then you were gone forever.

That was the year you disappeared.

I could say it was out of nowhere, and I could say it was within the blink of an eye, but I really would have to admit that I didn't know you at all if I said that were true. In all honesty, I paid closer attention to you then than I ever had, and I knew it didn't happen in an instant, but rather over the course of days, weeks, months. I lost you little by little with every breath you took, realizing just how out of rhythm our heartbeats were, how different we were. I lost you more with every hour of sleep, something I cursed. I lost you little by little, but I just couldn't find the leak, couldn't repair it to keep at least some small part of you where you belonged.

Now you're a ghost of the person I used to know, and there's nothing left in your eyes to make you the person I once loved.

Revived from the black hole that is my writing folder.

I wrote this a long time ago, but I just got my computer working for the first time in six months, and I've found a trove of writings in my documents folder. Things that I had completely forgotten existed, and that I'm so happy to have back.

Now you can read what I've never gotten the chance to share, and goddamnit, you had better like it. :)

“Look,” she said, glancing into his hazy eyes, “I didn’t plan this.”

He felt uncomfortable under her gaze, but didn’t break eye contact. “You never plan anything,” he said.

She sighed. “All I ever wanted was to be happy.”

“And all I wanted was to love you.”

“Well somewhere along the way we both just fucked up.”

He looked away. The working parts of his mind had been slightly out of order for quite some time, and he truly never expected her to stay under these conditions, but he had hoped. Now he would give anything, everything to keep her here. “I promise to try harder.”

Her eyes watered and she shifted her gaze, her futile attempt to fight back tears. “Neither of us has the strength left for that.” As he tried to protest, she emphasized with, “And you know it.”

The look in his eyes hinted at the feelings she thought had been lost a long time ago, numbed by drugs and drinking, shadowed by a completely different personality. “I never wanted it to be this way,” she whispered.

She looked into the bottle that, moments ago, had been so much heavier. “I never expected you to be empty.”

Hear, hear.

I have to tell him these things, even though I don't know when I'll find the strength to.

I need to tell him that he's worthwhile, that he's brilliant, gorgeous, talented. I need to tell him that he's capable of  doing great things in his life, if only he would try. I need to do everything in my power to make sure he believes all of this, because I truly do. I could list a million things to back up every compliment I've ever given, and he would completely dismiss all of it - even though, to me, they're more than compliments. To me they're fact.

But then I need to tell him that he can't accomplish anything if he keeps on the way he's going. And I need to make it clear that I can't keep holding on if he's going to continue to push me away, because I frankly can't move on this way. Because how can I walk away if he asks me to remain close? And how can he ask me to stay if when I do he completely disregards me? It's not fair, and I either need to be accepted and loved or to be completely let go. None of this half-and-half bullshit. None of this playing with my emotions.

I'll tell him I love him and that I probably always will. And I swear with every fiber of my being that I'll mean it. I'm sorry it had to be this way, I'll say, and tell him goodbye. I'll miss him and I'll probably cry, but I'll know that I've loved before, that I love currently, and that I'm capable of loving again.

A lot of things will end in my lifetime, until eventually my lifetime itself comes to an end. Until then, I won't give up. Until then, there will always be room in my heart for more.

The pleasures and pains, the losses and gains.

"Hope hurts more often than it helps."  - Taken from my journal, 11/9/10

No problem handed to you is without an answer, but you will hardly ever be handed that answer. Everything is a test, and you're capable of overcoming, of understanding. Just find the strength to do so.


I just hate everything.

I hate waiting all day for a text that doesn't come. The anticipation, the hoping, and then having to go to sleep disappointed.

I hate that I do what feels good over what is right.

I hate friends who promise to always be there for you - until something better comes along.

I hate that I would give up anything for them but they wouldn't pass up on a party to help me through my depression.

I hate friends who were never really friends in the first place.

I hate living every day knowing that I'm not what I could be. That I don't know how to live up to my full potential.

I hate loving people with the realization that any relationship I'm ever involved in will be 60/40, 70/30, with me always on the losing side.

I hate that I'm incapable of keeping anyone that I love in my life.

I hate that I can't make things okay on my own.


Dear best friend,

I don't know what it is. I've never - probably never? - felt so comfortable around another person, not enough to actually (try and) discuss my internal issues, enough to try new things that I may not have even considered before.  And while I'm probably not exactly open compared to other people, where I've come to be is pretty out there for me.  The problem is that I'm more of a listener as compared to someone who may openly spill everything in their head, and you definitely made sure to point out that this bothers you - that you want to feel lost in conversation with me, and that I need to work on offering that. Fuck. How?

I know that I don't say the things that I should often enough, and I that I need to make it a point to. I want you to know how fucking brilliant you are - do you even realize that? That you're a talented, gorgeous person who can do so much better for himself? I won't tell you that it will be easy, because I don't believe anywhere inside of me that it will. And I'm not saying that you can accomplish this tomorrow. But it can happen, and it needs to happen. You deserve for it to happen.

And even though this will probably make me sound like a complete hypocrite, I'd like to see you focus on the good in your life instead of constantly settling on the bad, because it's not the only thing you're ever going to have. I just want to see you absolutely, genuinely happy. That's probably the only thing I'm not willing to pass on here.

I'm sorry that you haven't had better in your life, that you don't hear these things often, that you don't feel like you're worthwhile, but I want you to know that I know that you deserve better.

"Maybe nothing's as important as we used to believe."

Taken from my notebook, the outlet I need to keep myself from falling apart.

Hoping brings me nothing but pain.

I feel extremely gullible and utterly retarded for believing in your words, in the feelings associated with you, as if I didn't have an index of past pains to compare to. And I constantly saw signs that I pretended were things I could work on, I made excuses for you, and the whole time I was only fueling my own depression. This whole inevitable end.

They say everything is relative, so how do you change your views on life so as not to be constantly at war with your own inner self? I can come up with the arguments, repeat them as if they were some sort of personal mantra, but I can't find a way to actually believe in them.

I hate everything a little more every day, and I'm afraid I was masking that with what happiness you did provide me - using him as some sort of barrier between myself and the outside world. There are better ways to do that, ways to actually learn to love yourself, but I'm terrified of putting in the effort only to realize that I'm incapable of mastering them.

I just want to vomit, and I can't tell if it's because I'm upset with you or disgusted with myself.