dream life

Apr. 5th, 2009 01:00 pm
notesinblue: (glee)
i just had the most wonderful dream. i’ve woken up smiling. i’d go back to sleep and catch some more comfy bed, snuggly, nap time, but i wanted to write it down.

i dreamed the hanged man and i were both graduating. it was from the university in the spring, but it felt like high school. everything was warm and breezy, and it was filled with flowers. we sat on bleachers and there were maybe only fifty of us all total. a woman called him up first, and there was thunderous applause. i was so proud of him, and he was well recognized and lauded. i went second, and again, applause. and i did it right this time, because i felt right. i grinned from ear to ear and felt like i had accomplished something. (later that night i spied a black and white close up of me in a frame - i'm laughing in my mortarboard and holding my diploma up to my face, radiant with glee.) then we both walked off the stage together and met my folks who gave us huge hugs and congratulated us. it felt wonderful and momentous. we walked out into the sunshine hand in hand smiling and happy.

then the dream changed. again, this was all the present but it felt like high school. it was summer, but not long after the ceremony, maybe a month, and i was attending the university swim meet with the hanged man and my parents (though my mother never appears in this dream). the meet was a big deal, and a lot of people’s graduation or success depended on it. the princess of cups was there, and her eyes were swollen and red, infected by pool water from not wearing goggles like everyone else. she never saw me. she looked miserable and defeated. i found out, from my father, that over the course of the weeklong tournament she had fallen from third place to seventeenth. she was a failure. she was never going to amount to anything, and she knew it. i witnessed her defeat, shook my head, and felt a little sorry for her. then i left her behind without much thought, got some shaved ice, and enjoyed the rest of the summer festival with the hanged man.

then it changed again. i was picking out tulips from bins and the hanged man was no longer at my side, but my father was. i wanted the perfect lavender tulip to keep forever and cherish, to remember the past day by. there were yellow tulips and purple ones, and they were all amazing. i knew exactly which one i wanted, but i had to find it - i knew it was there because i had sen it earlier without getting it. it was just the right shade and shape. my father pulled one in particular from the box and asked me if it was the one i wanted, in a “please say no” sort of tone. it was tiny. the color was an amazing rich purple, but it had yet to open and it was itty bitty. it was a seedling. even though the color appealed to me i shook my head. maybe i could press it in a book or something, it was a nice shade, but it wasn’t what i wanted. he smiled and i kept looking. i found the one i was looking for and was happy. then my father showed me something else. it was a Tiffany lamp on a swing arm. it reminded me of the tulip. it was lavender, pink, and orange. i didn’t like the orange, it wasn’t quite right, but it was a gift and the more i looked at it the more i liked it. he offered to clamp it to my wing back chair in my room, and just like that we were there, as happens in dreams. it was my old room back at Larkbunting, but it was a bit different and i don’t think it was attached to their house. the wing back chair was in my closet as a reading place, and my father hooked the lamp up and i fell in love with it. i knew it would be so cozy there, reading at night. i felt peaceful and happy. this was my life and i felt content.

i woke up smiling and haven't stopped. it's clear to me what my subconscious was talking about, and i truly believe today that i can build the life i want. i will heal my wounds, get over my obstacles, and put my old life behind me. i will love the hanged man without pause, stop dwelling on those that tried to destroy me, and the negative feelings that go with them, and i will find a nice job and home. i will be whole, healthy, and happy. i believe it. just as i believe in the sunshine melting all the snow beyond the windows. warm days are ahead.
notesinblue: (walk alone)
i find myself melancholy today and i'm not certain why. it's a bunch of little things i suppose. i just wish i could let them all go and enjoy my day. it's windy and cold, but the sun is out. i have the day off. i can do whatever i want. and yet... perhaps i need a nap. or to get out of the house. i'm not sure. all i know is that i feel low.

the prince of wands keeps popping into my head as well. it's not what's bothering me, but it doesn't help. the hierophant said that he seems him semi-often, and that the two of them bitch about my divorce. hard to imagine what they might say, since i haven't spoken to the prince since june, and i never discuss the divorce with the hierophant. they must simply rehash whatever trash the emperor is selling. it makes me sick. and hateful. which is so unlike me. i'm not accustomed to carrying so much bile. i just want to scream at the prince. scream and punch and spit at.

i'll be the first to admit that all of this has given me some abandonment issues. my husband abused me, then discarded me. my best friends left me. one, the princess, telling me i should just get over it all and that i was selfish. the other, the prince, telling me that i was never abused and that i was essentially full of crap. my biggest fears come to life. now i keep almost everyone at a distance for fear they may turn on me as well. because the people i loved didn't just leave, they kicked me on the way out. the people i don't keep at arm's length i feel like i cling to too tightly. the prince of swords and my parents. i hold onto them for dear life. i just hope i'm not smothering them. still, here i am, feeling lonely and melancholy, and i dare not reach out for help or comfort. if i didn't get it i'd be worse than i am now. so i carry on by myself. even though i know it's not healthy.

i think i should pack up and head to town. go shopping. sit in a coffee shop. anything other than sit here trapped in my own head. time to take this day by the scruff of the neck and shake it until it gives me what i want. which is to say, i need a little revitalization.
notesinblue: (daydream)
Today I...

...plucked a single snow-white hair from the top of my head where it was reaching toward the sky like an antennae, then let it fall to the floor where it was lost in dog hair, bits of bark, and coffee cake crumbs.

...shouldered a brand new winter coat, the first in a decade, stylishly assembled to resemble a coat my father once had in the early seventies. new twice.

...walked quickly, far too quickly, everywhere I went while listening to the rise and fall of piano, guitar, synthesizer, voice, all of them tuned to the key of discontent.

...read the damn poem about blackbirds again and vowed to write my own poem with thirteen verses on a single subject. thirteen ways of looking at...what precisely? as soon as I figure that out it will be brilliant. revolutionary. mind blowing.

...ate a granola bar for the first time in my adult life, pondering each chewy bit of childhood mountain adventure stuck in my teeth.

...raised my eyebrows at the unsolicited smile of one I once called friend and now call nothing at all, all the while marveling not at the situation but rather at the softness of the hat I was fumbling to tug over my cold tinted ears.

...parked illegally under a sign that said 30 Minutes in bold authoritative type when I knew full well I'd be an hour, and didn't look back when I walked away.

...baked cinnamon rolls, watched them rise, smeared frosting over the tops where it melted, then devoured one. two. later perhaps three.

...enjoyed the feel of a new pair of socks surrounding my feet, and wriggled my toes, making red and black argyle waves lift and crash upon the floor silently. cotton on cotton.

...found the piece of polished quartz I thought I had lost, nestled in the shelter of my coffee table's silver leg in the thicket of cream colored carpet.

...took a few pictures of my dog as he slept upside down, dreaming in the position of a deceased cockroach.

...decided to rename my most recent poem ellipses. this is not said poem, nor is there a single ellipses contained within its lines.

...by happenstance, wrote thirteen lines in my journal all saying different things but expressing the same sentiment: Today was Thursday the 24th of January. Just another day. Just another unique, repetitive, ordinarily extraordinary day. My name is ever changing, and I am a poet.
notesinblue: (rage)
i just remembered why i hate the princess of cups. why her abandonment and treatment of me falls into the realm of unforgivable instead of merely crappy.

fishing through a box, looking for something else, i came across the letter she wrote me on 12/11/06 pledging her love as my best friend. december fucking eleventh. almost exactly a month later i wrote this. a few weeks after that we had our disastrous "last dinner".

the fact that she was my closest friend, my best friend, and that she left me when i needed her most is horrid. the fact that she said so many awful things, and was downright horrific to me, is deplorable. but the fact that she did all of that after writing me the letter that she did is downright unforgivable. i wish i could share it with the empress as a warning, but it would just seem like pettiness or some other bile filled emotion. but the fact is i want to warn her. i want to warn everyone who crosses her path. i want to stitch a big crimson letter in all of her clothing so that everyone will know what she did to me, and know to stay away. but i can't.

and i have to see her on saturday.

i told the empress i'd play nice when she told me the princess would be at her party, and i meant it. i had no desire to see her or speak to her, but i didn't feel the need to leap up and slap the crap out of her on sight either. but now, with my memory jogged, i'm not sure i'll be able to keep my promise. i'll stay cool and ignore her. but she'll do something. a look. or heaven forbid, an attempt at conversation. and that will be it. i'll crucify her. i will rip her the fuck apart. and i'll be happy to do it.

maybe i should arrive terribly late or leave terribly early.

i spy

Mar. 28th, 2007 12:24 am
notesinblue: (blue suit)
every time i see a short, fat girl on campus i think it’s the princess of cups for a split second. it doesn’t help that they are numerous, and that they all seem to have the same mousey brown hair she does. it’s gotten to the point where it happens about a dozen times a day. as a result I’ve gotten used to dismissing the phenomenon almost as soon as it arises. so, when i was sitting in the lounge and saw a girl meeting the requirements, not ten feet away, i dismissed the idea that it might be her. but after staring for a good five minutes i realized that it was.

she was reading a paper or short story, wearing the same thing she always wears, except with a beaded bracelet. she was drinking a trendy drink and i think she could feel someone watching her because she looked up several times. separated by a pane of glass, she only needed to look a bit over her shoulder to see me, sitting right there. but people outside never look in. so i was free to stare, and even snap two pictures, while i decided how to proceed.

she was in between me, and my next class. i decided to pretend to be on the phone and breezed by her. but once i got inside clark c, i had to get a peek and see if she had watched my passage. she had. and she looked troubled by it, which i'm embarrassed to admit pleased me.

i watched her from the breezeway, snapping pics of pigeons. she was restless, which made my spying risky since she was no longer engrossed in her reading. i’m not sure if she saw me or not. i hope not. i don’t want her to think i give a shit enough to watch her. and i wish i didn’t. i wish i could have ignored her entirely. alas, apparently not.

i thought i had come farther than this. i’m not sure if i’m disappointed in my interest or disappointed that i didn’t take it further. maybe both. either way, i’m unsettled. not depressed, or shaken to my core, as I would have been had this occurred two weeks ago, but unsettled nonetheless. i truly think less of her than any other person drawing breath, but a part of me still misses her. i wish i could let go entirely. i wish i was free of her.
notesinblue: (virgin state)
i ran into the hanged man last tuesday. he apologized for dropping out of my life without a word. said he just needed to get the hell away from the princess of cups. i can relate. i took her off my friendlist a couple days ago. she has yet to respond - she's pretending not to notice, although i'm certain she has. with every passing day my curiosity wanes. i no longer miss her anymore. nor do i miss the prince of wands. he posted to say that he may be home in a matter of weeks. i felt nothing aside from a twinge of annoyance. my how far we have come. i haven't even spoken with the emperor in nearly a week. it would seem that my letting go has stuck this time. it's about damn time.

in other news: i love the rain and i love miami vice. the last two days have been full of both. i read today by the woodstove and listened to the rain. can't remember the last time homework was so pleasant. then this evening the queen of disks and i rocked the vice into season 2. tomorrow is dresden files, boardgames, and pork roast. i'm happy as a clam.

over it

Mar. 18th, 2007 02:36 pm
notesinblue: (optimistic)
first of all, here are a couple memes:

You Are 40% Feminine, 60% Masculine

You are in touch with your masculine side.
You are not overly sensitive and not easily moved.
Occasionally, though, something will get through and touch your heart!

You Are 60% Boyish and 40% Girlish

You are pretty evenly split down the middle - a total eunuch.
Okay, kidding about the eunuch part. But you do get along with both sexes.
You reject traditional gender roles. However, you don't actively fight them.
You're just you. You don't try to be what people expect you to be.

i find it interesting that they both say the same thing in different words.

in other news i'm feeling very 'over' everyone today. the princess of cups, the emperor, and even the prince of wands. i didn't even bother to call the emperor and ask about his trip when he came home two nights ago. i think i'm ready to move on, and away, from all of them. i hope it lasts.

today is the last day of spring break and i still have two papers to write. but bugger me if i'd rather sit on the deck and soak up the last few hours of relaxation until May. i think i've earned it.


Mar. 9th, 2007 01:01 am
notesinblue: (pensive)
something tells me i'm not getting up in the morning and hitting the highway. after discovering the theft of my vacation, by the princess of cups, i felt lower than low. then, to rub salt in the wound, the emperor told me he wouldn't be around on monday (which i had been planning my own trip around) because he's flying to Hawaii to visit the prince of wands. he told me that and i hated him threefold. i hated that he was ditching out on me on monday. i hated that he was blowing a grand on plane tickets after telling me he's too broke to make good on the money he owes me. and most of all, i hated that he was going to see the one person in this world i would visit if i could.

i've spent my day feeling depressed, anxious, and angry. needless to say it hasn't been fun. now i'm left feeling like i got hit by a bus. i'm tired, drained, and have a blinding headache. i wish i knew what i wanted. i feel so conflicted. i want to be the sort of person who isn't bothered by this sort of thing, that drives off into the desert on a whim and needs no one and nothing. but i'm not. i don't want to be alone. i don't want to step outside of my comfort zone. i'm afraid. and that makes me worry that i am, in fact, a terribly dull person at my core. i can no longer tell if i actually want to go on vacation, or if i just want to be the sort of person that wants to do such things. i feel like i don't know myself at all, and that distresses me.

what i really want is to crawl in a hole and do nothing for a week. which is precisely what i always do. i have so few experiences. i always seem to opt out. i don't want to get to the end of my days and realize my life has been forgettable. i don't want to lead a boring life - i want to lead an exceptional one. yet i think i need to acknowledge i'm not the carefree seat-of-the-pants type. maybe one day i will be. i'm not sure if that day will come or not. but today i'm feeling fragile. and this fragile homebody wants to stay where it's warm and safe. even if it means being dull. and even if it means having to face the fact that i'm not the person i wish i was.


Mar. 7th, 2007 10:48 pm
notesinblue: (rage)
arg! i hate you! fuck you! ahhh! fucking die!

or at least, that's what i want to say. the princess of cups has stolen my vacation. back when we still confided in each other i told her i wanted to drive into the desert, just me and Edward Abbey, for spring break. she sort of mocked me when i told her, missing the point entirely and saying something about Vegas. but guess what she's doing for break?

i want to choke the life out of her. she's going with her shiny new friends too, 'cause finding new fresh gullible friends is easier than being decent enough to keep her old ones. it's not so much that she stole my idea (although i wonder what other ideas of mine she will pilfer and call her own). it's that now the trip is tainted for me. i don't even know if i want to go anymore. and if i do go i'll be constantly anxious that i'll run into her. i know the odds are low, but it won't matter. feelings are feelings. i hate her for taking one more thing away from me. i hate that she keeps posting 'yay! my life is wonderful, i love my new friends, everything couldn't be better' entries. i hate it. and i'm ashamed to admit i hate her.

i feel used. she fucking dumped me and i didn't even get the dear john letter. fuck her. i hope one day she is in as bad a place as i was and her fucking bestfriend abandons her just as she abandon me. complete with her friend being really mean and lying to her for no apparent reason. i would wish that back upon her threefold so that she might know what it felt like. even then she might not comprehend because she's so childish and self absorbed. she's a selfish bitch, and i wish she would drop off the face of the earth so i could be totally rid of her. fuck her.

*spits and utters a curse*
notesinblue: (relaxed)
i deleted all the entries out of my old journal and converted it into a photography and writing journal. i spent most of the day scrubbing it out and hanging new wallpaper so to speak. i'm looking forward to unveiling it to my friends as soon as i have something to post. today i finally feel done with the entire princess of cups affair. and i couldn't be more glad.
notesinblue: (smoke)
i wrote a cryptic entry in my public journal. saved here, lest i forget, is the translation.

A flash. The sting of a palm across my cheek. Spit in my eye. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows... Whether 'tis nobler... Nobler... Noble. Nobility. Another royal in my crowded house.
i discovered the princess of cups' slander.

Papers written. Papers mid-progress. Papers looming. All but one pushed out through tired fingers. It can wait until morning. It can always wait until morning. So says the weary to the morning sunrise.
i wrote some, but not all, of my papers, hindered by depression and exhaustion.

Restless night. I tell the mouse in my wall everything. He chitters something about Dickinson and leaves birdseed in my laundry. I don't like Dickinson. Or birdseed. I evict him.
i discover a mouse has built a nest in my dirty laundry. Dickinson is also the poet the princess revers the most, and i dislike. we argued about it during our last lunch together.

Dusty orange juice morning. A paper written in haste. And then flying. Muddy road. Squeaky gate. Twisty pavement. Engine roaring above speakers. Foot flat to the floor. Hands looser than they have been in years. A long held sigh released.
i hurry down the mountain to class and the drive centers me. i realize the anxiety i acquired after my car accident has finally dissipated.

A walk through sunlight. Choices weighed. Invisible smoke rising from the depths of imagination. Nocturnes echoing in my ears. Always Nocturnes. My other name means turning point. And I turn. A flat. E major. F sharp. Always F sharp.
i walk to class and consider what to do about the princess as i listen to Chopin. my 'other name' refers to my old journal name, which translates as turning point in German.

A sunspot. A flare. Scales tip. To take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them... Take arms... Oppose... End. A decision is made. Swords must be blocked or parried. Everything I have learned, I have learned through either love, literature, or war.
i run into the princess in Eddy Hall. she avoids me and is cold. i get so angry i shake through the rest of my class. i decide i'm not willing to put up with her anymore, even though it means giving up what was once a dear friendship.

A workshop. The first I've ever been apathetic too. The only. An emptiness. A hollowness. A silence. Words withering on the vine. Overripe or too green? So many words written and still a drought. Such a drought. A dustbowl.
i sit through a workshop in CO301a, but don't absorb anything because i'm still so angry. i feel creatively sabotaged because the princess used to be my main support as a writer but she attacked my words when she became angry. also, even though i've been writing tons of papers my own works have been neglected since the semester began.

Substitution brings rain to end the drought. A Romanian from Jersey. Words reborn. Notes taken. Lecture ignored. I only hear the diction, the colloquialisms. You know? See. Look, look, see. I don't know. Whatever, right?
a substitute teacher in logic reminds me of the main character in my second novel. i take notes on his speaking style and get re-energized to work on revisions.

The creak of leather as arms encircle me. So many I'm sorrys. Always I'm sorrys. From both of us. But this time they are not his to give, nor mine. But they are welcome. They are the only ones I will get. I keep them close. I will stop apologizing.
the emperor stops by to cheer me up. he tells me he's sorry about the princess. i decide i need to apologize less, both to him and her.

Another hug, this one so soft I'm surprised by the feel of it beneath my fingers. Laughter. Seriousness. Talk of the past, the present, and even more of the future. All before the soup is even gone.
i have dinner with the king of disks. we commiserate since our situations are so similar. it feels good.

A proposal. Worded in neutral terms. Yet there is something in it. The veiled question. Are you different? Are you bluffing? Do you want to run? Do you want to run with me? And I'm unsure of my answer.
the king asks me if i want to drive to Boston with him. he seems to be testing me somehow, gaging my response carefully.

A return to the past to see a face of the present. The devil on my shoulder. One of the better ones. One of the true. As opposed to so many of the others. All the angels were liars. The devil speaks the truth. And I leave laughing.
i visit the prince of disks at my former workplace. he suggests i do what makes me happy, even if that means driving to Boston with the king when we are both in no state to be in a relationship. i tell him he's a devil on my shoulder. he has been a good friend since my split with the emperor.

More roads, these dark. The turns hidden but well traveled. I drive from memory. Like playing a now forgotten melody. Brandenburg played through wheels and combustion. My fingers itch for strings and keys. I decide to recover the first and acquire the second.
going home i drive fast and by instinct. Brandenburg concerto was the first piece i really nailed on my cello and could play without the sheet music. i decide to pick my cello up from the house and to finally get off my ass and get a piano.

A place to call home. Better, perhaps, than the last. I whisper French to the glowing city lights, even though I don't know a word of it. Except for cest la vie. Such is life. Such is life my childe. Such is life.
i'm more loved in my current home. i watch a show with the queen of disks about Paris homes. it makes me adopt an accent as we talk. i decide i'm finally getting comfortable, both here and with myself again.


Feb. 25th, 2007 01:44 am
notesinblue: (walk alone)
i've spent the entire day moving my old journal over here to its new home. each and every word. and although it has been tedious, and beyond time consuming, i'm glad. since my former journal was discovered by the princess of cups, who was my best-friend at the time, i've felt like someone had invaded my personal space. as we began to grow apart the feeling only grew. yet i didn't want to lock her out because i knew it would be the end of our friendship. but after her latest behavior i got the courage to shut her out for good. i'm through with her. and again, i'm glad. it feels good to have a place of my own again. i feel as though i can breathe easier than i have in a long time. so here's to a new space and new times.
notesinblue: (really?)
ah. i see. i thought as much, but it's always nice to have a confirmation, such as it is. as i said earlier, it's what isn't said that sometimes says the most. all this time i've been listening to what was said instead of what wasn't. silly me.

and to think i actually wanted to know the response. to think i actually expended the energy on giving two shits when a genuine reply hasn't been uttered in months. to think i really truly cared. it suddenly seems absurd.

i was going to write a letter. try to express myself. do all of that opening up i was accused of not doing. but why bother, really, when we both know it's a moot point. i'm not even going to write the angry letter i composed in my head over the hours. you might mistake this for said letter, but rest assured, it is not. while this composition lingers on the aggressive side, it's far from the scathing response it could be.

in short, i wanted you to know that i get it. really. even though you won't do me the courtesy of telling me. i get it. i'm not thick. i've just been moonlighting as an optimist. i can allow people to think they're clever by pretending i don't see them with their hand in the cookie jar, so long as it makes them feel better. i can overlook things. i can let things slide. a lot of things. more than you know. that is, if i care. especially if i love. which i did. notice the past tense, because really, that's what it's come to.

it's not like i'm surprised. far from it. i've seen this coming for a long long time. longer than you would guess. and i did try to stop it, whether you believe it or not. and when it became clear i couldn't, i tried to steel myself against it. i won't say it didn't hurt, because it did. it hurt like hell. but again with the past tense. after today i find myself surprised by how my emotions have changed. i find myself feeling light. lighter still as i reach the bottom of this. after all, if i've learned one thing from you it's how to walk away. how to let go. so here i am, letting you go. and you're welcome by the way, because we both know i'm doing you a favor by being the one to say what needs to be said.

*stops listening to the words, reflects on the silence, and takes a final hint*


Feb. 23rd, 2007 01:21 am
notesinblue: (blue suit)
i had something to say when i came home today. but it's gone. i think it had something to do with Emerson's views on morality versus legality. or perhaps Edward Abbey and his desert. or possibly something more mundane, like how bitterly tired i am. but as i said, it's gone. all i can think about now is how i'm too damn tired, and too damn busy, for this bullshit. that and the chorus of Divine.
notesinblue: (blue suit)
when did i stop missing you? any of you. all of you.

You crave attention
As if it's due to you
You want permission
To behave as badly as you do

You want respect, but
You don't act respectable
You want fame to fill the void
Where you once had a soul

But you haven't earned it
You haven't walked long enough in these shoes
You don't deserve it
You haven't nearly paid your dues

It's so pathetic
This image you portray
Shatters like crystal
And slowly fades away

You want the world's eyes
You need the accolades
You want the money
And all the empty praise

But you haven't earned it
You haven't walked long enough in these shoes
You don't deserve it
You haven't nearly paid your dues

When it's all over
What will you have left?
You'll still be incomplete
Forgotten and depressed

You want acceptance
It's all you wanted all along
You want forgiveness
From those who you have wronged

But you haven't earned it
You haven't walked long enough in these shoes
You don't deserve it
You haven't nearly paid your dues

princesses and queens. emperors and empresses. kings and princes. hanged men and fools. i find myself missing no one. what i miss is missing someone.
notesinblue: (falling)
for better or worse, i pushed send this time.

Ne -

I was sitting in Clark watching it snow today and I was struck by a sudden spell of missing you intensely. I found myself thinking of a thousand things I wanted to tell you, show you, share with you, and I was nearly overcome with the sense of your absence. It seemed in that moment that you had been gone for years, decades. I suppose it surprised me in large part because it was so random and unprovoked. That and, strange as it may sound, I've gotten used to your absence.

I realized last week that I've gotten used to the absence of a great many things. My life no longer resembles its former self - the only remnant is Monday night, where I feel somewhat detached. It's not the same without you there. It's not the same in general. I've changed and no one seems to have noticed. I humor them by making the same old jokes and keeping my metamorphosis to myself.

The Emperor and I have been getting along well the past few weeks and I'm glad for it. He is unhappy and he seeks my advice and sympathy - I suppose some things remain ever the same. I would worry about him, but he seems determined to make things difficult for himself. I think it's what he needs to do right now. Not even his "distracting fling" with the Queen of Wands makes him happy (which makes me wonder what the point is). These days I sit quietly as he rests his head on my shoulder and tells me he is doomed to remain unhappy. I do all I can, which is to say I offer a kind word, a hug, and go on my way. It is all I can do. It's all I ever could do, except now I'm aware of my limitations.

Most of my other friendships have settled into near stagnation. Since I moved up here, and winter hit, I haven't seen much of anyone. We still have five feet of snow up here and it has snowed every week for two months. The weathermen are beside themselves, as is my poor father. I passed the stir crazy stage a month ago. I'm resigned now to living and breathing snow, textbooks, and solitude. I figure I'll dig myself out next spring.

The Prince of Swords has returned to school (woo!) and remains chained to S at the hip. I'm glad for him, but I miss him as well. I haven't seen him, just the two of us, since October. I only vaguely recollect what being around him without others is like. I miss the side of him that only comes out when there is no one around to impress.

The Prince of Disks and I, on the other hand, have been closer the past few months than we have been in a long time. I edited his book for him and he's excited about revisions. He seems happier than he has in a long time. I think he's finally coming to peace with himself. I think you'd be happy to see how much he's grown this past year.

The Princess of Cups and I have a bit of a falling out. After a couple months of snippy passive aggressive phone calls we finally had an ill-fated dinner that ended in shouting across the table in a busy restaurant. We've since reconciled but things aren't the same. I doubt they ever will be. And strangely I feel nothing for the loss. To much has been lost over the past year for me to care as deeply as I once did about such things. I'm afraid I've become cold. But Disney movies still make me cry, so all is not lost.

It's very dark out tonight, the snow clouds have blotted out the moon and the lights from town. I've lit my room with candles to take the chill off. (It's -7 degrees.) I'm supposed to be typing my paper for tomorrow's lecture on Byron, but as soon as I opened my laptop I found myself thinking about you again.

I've been meaning to write this letter for weeks. I'm not sure why I didn't. I suppose it's just because I have so much to say. And I don't just mean all of the crap I wrote above this. I mean so much more than that. Even now I can't find the words or inclination to write them. Suffice it to say that I have a lot I wish I could tell you. And there is a lot I wish I could hear. I want to hear you describe the ocean in New Zealand, or the cliffs of Ireland. I want to hear your voice. I want to hear your distinct way of speaking, and seeing the world. I suppose I just miss you, as I said at the beginning.

And I do, miss you. I love you, R. I'm not sure what that means anymore, if anything, but I'd be remiss not to say it. Don't worry. I expect nothing in return. I rarely even hope for anything anymore. But I do still feel something every time I hear certain songs or see familiar sights. I think to myself, "once upon a time me and a boy I loved were there, and I was happy", and I'm thinking of you. Strange that despite our lack of a romantic relationship I feel so connected. I'm not sure why I bring it up, except that it has been clinging in the back of my throat, something unsaid and heavy, for quite some time. I've been careful to tiptoe around the words, and I've grown weary with not saying what's on my mind (much to the chagrin of others). So please, forgive my candor just this once, and take it for what it is: an offer of honesty and affection.

I hope you are well. I hope New Zealand is the paradise it seems. I hope you are happy. I hope you dream wonderful dreams. I hope for a great many things, all of them good, for you. Know that somewhere on the other side of the world someone is watching a snowflake melt on a pane of glass and thinking of you. Know that you are, as always, loved.

Love, Me


Jan. 17th, 2007 09:52 pm
notesinblue: (pensive)
i need to say something. but i can't for the life of me figure out how to say it.

the emperor and i are going through one of our rough patches. i'm not sure our friendship is going to survive. and i'm not sure i can trust him anymore. he insists he needs to tell the Queen of Wands about my gender identity. he's already told her everything else. i feel violated.

school is frightening and frustrating. i can't get into any of my classes and it's stressing me out. if i can't make this work i won't be out in three semesters. i can't afford to go into debt for four. i feel trapped and i'm scared. i'm scared i can't pay for this and i'm scared i can't cut it. everything feels so wrong. i haven't felt this unsteady about school since i dropped out last time.

i had to leave my car at the gate again. the snow drifted over the road and made it impassible. i'm tired of having clipped wings. i'm even more tired of no one understanding the situation or thinking i'm being silly or lying. i'm not sure what stresses me out more: being stuck up here or everyone thinking i'm not really stuck.

all of these things are eating me alive. but not nearly as much as the knowledge that something is wrong, desperately wrong, with our friendship. i need a friend, now more than ever. i have so much i need to talk about and share. i need reassurance, love, and understanding. i need joy, laughter, and distraction. i need long nights of watching movies and walks around campus. i need unsmoked cigarettes, hugs, and fresh baked cookies. i need someone to talk to about writing, and this new life and self i'm trying to build. i need a friend, and i thought that friend was you.

i know i've needed a lot these days, but i never thought it was more than you were happy to give. perhaps that was foolish of me, even naive, but it's the truth. i've tried not to be a high maintenance friend, but i seem to have fallen on a time of great weakness and disrepair, a pity for us both. and i know i've been a mess for awhile, longer than you've had patience for, but if you look closely you'll see how far i've come. i'm not going to lie - i still have low days and hard times, and i probably will for awhile. but they are fewer and fewer.

i also know i've been away, but there were reasons. and i know i've been a drag, but again, there were reasons. i didn't know my friendship with you was so fragile that it couldn't survive an absence and some heartache. it's obvious you've run out of patience, but i'm wounded that you say nothing and instead snap at me or treat me coolly. i feel barely tolerated, even loathed at times. we don't talk anymore, and when we do it feels strained. i feel as though i am on trial, being judged, every time i speak. and like somehow i keep misstepping. i can't help but feel vastly misunderstood, which i find unnerving since i feel like i've been very honest. was it a mistake to be honest when you asked how i was? was it a mistake to be so truthful and bare with my feelings? was it a mistake to think we were close enough that i didn't need to have any walls up between us? was it an abuse to you and our friendship somehow, to be so truthful that i hid nothing?

i'll be honest once more: it's been frustrating. and it's made me angry on more than one occasion. but lately it just hurts. i thought we'd be friends for a long long time. i thought we had a connection. i thought we were close. but i can tell by the tightness in your face and the harshness of your words that it isn't so. at least not anymore. the truth is that lately i feel sick every time i talk to you, like i've been hit in the gut. the irony is that i think you left because i was sad, and what makes me saddest lately is you. i've shed more tears this last month over the loss of you than i have over anything else. and i know we need to talk. whether we mend this or go our separate ways, i know there are too many words unsaid.

i have something to say. but i don't know how to say it.

i suppose the closest i can get is: why aren't we friends anymore? when did you stop loving me?
notesinblue: (prose)
unsent letters... ever since that strange girl i once knew told me about them, i find myself composing them on occasion. the idea was like a virus. contagious. fortunately i'm not afflicted all that often. so here is a december installment, brought on by a sudden outbreak.

dear prince of wands,
what i didn't write in the letter, but really wanted to, was: do you miss me? are you looking forward to seeing me again? do you think about me from time to time? or should i forget about you as you may have forgotten about me?

dear king of disks,
why are we having lunch tomorrow? yeah, we're friends, but why are we really getting together? i've known you for nine years and we've never gone out to lunch. so tell me - what should i expect? what do you expect?

dear emperor,
i missed you today. it hurt, very deeply, and came out of the blue. but that's not the remarkable part. the remarkable part is that in missing you today i realized that i hadn't yesterday. either i'm finally healing thanks to your charming behavior, or i'm getting really really good at being detached and numb.

dear queen of wands,
i'm not surprised you're fucking him. not really. but honestly, truly, i don't think i could hate you more. emotions this strong are reserved for those you once truly loved. think about. and if the emperor gives you my number, don't call it. and if he invites you over when i'm there, don't show. 'cause, babe, i will choke the life out of you with my bare freaking hands. and you, who has looked into my heart in the past, should know that i'm dead serious.

dear prince of swords,
i'm really glad you called. i was stunned at how glad i was. i've missed you. and rather than being sore because you haven't been around, i find myself happy that you picked up the phone and called me for the first time since i moved away. please visit me before the year is over. please make things somewhat normal again by being my friend the way you used to be.

dear empress,
i'm sorry i haven't called. it's just, you scare me sometimes. you remind me a little of her, and with her shitting where i just slept she's on my mind. that and i know he's poisoned you against me to an extent. i don't blame you. he calls you back and i don't. he's charming and tells all, and i don't. but please, don't believe everything he says. he lies and he's delusional. and please, don't stick a sword through my back like she did. be different. be better.

dear princess of cups,
i miss you. i miss you and i feel left behind. it's not your fault. i'm not angry, except for possibly at myself. i haven't been around and you've had to fill up the hole i left. you've made new friends and kept busy. and i'm not a part of it. i picked up and left you all alone, and now i'm sad because i know you've moved on. i hate that in leaving him i might have broken things. i hate even more that i'm too weak to fix them properly right now. i just hope that you'll still be there, if even a little, when i come crawling home.

dear king of cups,
you really hurt me yesterday. badly. and i know you know it. things were stiff, uncomfortable, today. i'm not angry, just hurt. if you're actually sorry, and you want to make it better, just do what you're so good at - pretend nothing happened. i want to forget about it even more than you do. trust me on this one.

dear jasper,
i think you somehow intuitively know that i need you right now. when i couldn't stop crying yesterday you wouldn't leave my side. thank you for sleeping by my feet, and sitting with me on the deck. thank you for listening and offering nothing but unconditional love in return. well, sometimes it's conditional on food, but everyone has their vices. thank you for being exactly what i need right now even though we never really bonded before. we've bonded now. so thanks. or in terms you might better understand: good boy. good dog.
notesinblue: (happy)
according to the princess of cups, i'm a lot more interesting than murder.

if i can manage to top nude fire juggling i've got it made.
notesinblue: (pensive)
when i laid down my cards the other day i pulled the nine of swords. i've always called it the nightmare card - the traditional image being that of someone crying out in the night, swords walling them in. it's called cruelty in my deck, a crying eye is underlined by two bloody lines, cutting across its cheek. i've never pulled this card for myself. not ever. i went pale as a sheet when i turned it over. pale enough that when A saw me turn it over and begin to shake, he ushered me to the kitchen and away from the image.

my dreams have indeed been dark. there are days when i believe none are as cruel to me as i am to myself. there are others where i feel very much abused. i look at the two deep gouges, causing the eye to weep, and i see two men who have recently cut me to the bone. there are other scratches marring that face, just as there have been other slights and pitfalls. but i do see their reflection in that crimson. heart's blood.

i spoke to one of those men today, the prince, and i felt somewhat cheered. i feel as though perhaps this entropy is not my making but his. it makes me feel better for myself, and worse for him. which in turn makes me feel ill all over again. i have decided to love him all the same, because it seems i have no other choice. it may be foolish, but as i said, i have little choice, and at least that love fills a small part of the void within me. this decision will either eat my heart out, bring me later joy, or follow its course to an anticlimactic non-end. no way of knowing. but i do know i am too tired to fight as mighty a foe as love. she makes a bitch of me every time. i might as well face her head on and try to weather the storm with as much dignity as i can manage.

my dismay is that the princess of cups does not believe i am trying. nor does the emperor for that matter, which he pointed out as soon as she departed. i, on the other hand, think i do nothing but try. if i weren't trying i wouldn't keep getting out of bed and plugging forward on my broken limbs. maybe i *don't* see any rainbows and happy endings right now. i admit it. i've been an optimist for a long long time, but i'm far from optimistic right now. optimism smells of naivete in my current state. and it has before. i'm sure it will engender my affection again in time. but not right now. right now i'm choking on my nine of swords.

i may see nothing but a dark and muddy road right now, but i *am* still walking. one day maybe i'll look up and see silver rain again rather than mud. but not right now. right now i'm beat to hell and it's making me angry. frankly i feel i have every right to be. yes, when life knocks the shit out of you, you do have to get up. but right now i want to bleed for awhile. i'm exhausted, and i want to feel a little sorry for myself after feeling sorry for others for so long.

i don't want that to mean i have to close myself away in order to do so. i don't want to have to be dishonest, to pretend to be that which i am not, but my rawness causes worry and discomfort in those around me. i find myself throwing up walls, which only worsens my foul temper. yes, i'm cynical, angry, and bitter right now. most people who have lost much are. the man watching his house burn is not a ray of sunshine. he's a hopeless miserable cuss, cursing life and luck. and he's probably going to continue to be like that until he has a new house, and a change of clothes. that's his right as far as i'm concerned, for better or worse.

i'm in need of so much right now, like that poor burned out man. some of it i can go out and get on my own. some of it is out of reach. and still some of it is beyond my sight. as i pull blankets around me, they will help smother my angry flames, and warm my chilled heart. it takes time. lots of it. and i may never be as happy as i was. part of me sincerely doubts i could be, for ignorance is truly bliss. i've lost much, seen more, and been changed because of it. but maybe happy isn't everything. maybe seeing the world around you, the whole world, in full color is more important. maybe being wiser, and stronger, can make up for some of that lost serenity. maybe sometimes the lovers have to wake up and be warriors, if even for a time. and i plan to be. as soon as i finish pulling these nine swords from my back.
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