Treading Water

Life has lately felt much like the song, ‘your drums you love’ by Alunageorge. Because it feels like I’ve been treading water just to get back someone’s love or to where I was and whether or not I sink or swim, it’s always you I’m thinking of. But maybe I’m just having one of those emotional, vulnerable moments because feelings always get in the way. But life just hasn’t been the same without you in it. All I want to do is tell you how much I miss you. But I can’t, I won’t, there’s no point as it won’t change a thing. It will just seem sad, pathetic, and desperate. This is just another one of those moments where the pen is not mightier than the sword. Where you don’t pass go and don’t collect 200 dollars. But, I miss it all. Your voice, your laugh, your touch, your warmth, our banter, our chemistry, our synchronicity, our rapport, our sameness, our symmetry. But most importantly you.I was the happiest when I was with you but I’ve probably lost you forever and there is no getting back to you.


Alone. (Old Drafts Die Hard)

This is a month and a half old draft that I guess I am now publishing?

Being alone is hard. It’s also hard work. Especially in a world that was designed for two. Wether it’s a lover, or a best friend. But alas, I have neither and you cannot grocery shop for one person. Do you know how hard that is? I always end up with more food than I can eat myself that always ends up going bad before I even get a chance to finish it. There are no single serving portions or meals. This is what has me believing that life is designed for two. Going out to eat is another story. No parties of one, because one is not a party. Life is meant to be enjoyed in twos. It’s meant for couples. You cannot even go out to eat by yourself. Want an appetizer? Good luck on enjoying your dinner if you’re eating alone. Appetizers are meant for more than person and my problem is I always want an appetizer but I can’t get one because I can’t justify spending $8 for one person let alone the fact that it will pretty much ruin my dinner as I will be full before it even arrives. Ask yourself this, how often do you go to a restaurant and see someone eating alone? I want that person to fill my appetizer eating gap. In addition, there’s things like groupon which is meant for groups of people, specifically couples. There’s another nugget of fact proving that life isn’t single serving. I mean, where’s the singpon for single loners such as myself?

I went out tonight with my cousin and her friends and it just made me hate the whole dating and single scene even more. Courting is or has become a strange thing. Or at least the whole club and single scene is. People stalking their prey on the dance floor, waiting to make their next move. Salivating like the horny mammals we are, hoping to dance, grind, and sweat on the next piece of meat that tickles our fancy.  But regardless, it’s not that I am or in the process of courting or anything, it’s just a weird thing in general it seems now. The going back and forth. I would easily give up it all up, any time of the day for something stable. Where we could both be content doing whatever which is where I previously was. I don’t want to play this dating game, I don’t want to start over again with anyone else.  I don’t want anyone else. I just want you, but it seems I can’t have you. You still occupy that corner of my mind and I miss you, but do you miss me? Wait, don’t answer that question, I’m far too scared to know the truth. You probably won’t admit it or am too afraid to say so or maybe your new best friend has made you forget all about me or put ideas in your head and words in your ear having you think you are better off. Conspiracy theory 101 is in session and I’m taking students, or maybe this is just a lesson in pessimism. I swear I’m never like this.

Social lives are hard.

First Drafts

I had another draft from last week that I had been working but never posted it. Maybe I will eventually, tonight’s theme, self-loathing and fear in Vegas. Instagram hates me and my guts, facebook as well. I loathe the times whenever I load up either apps on my phone because I know what both of these algorithmic scumbag apps are going to show me. Posts and pictures of and from my ex-girlfriend. I hate the word ex though. It’s such an ugly word because I don’t want to consider her an ex. Maybe I’m just hopefully hopeless and the post-consumed drinks in my stomach like to make me feel lesser than but these fucking apps hate my guts because every time I open them, literally at the top of my feed, the first thing I fucking see is a selfie of my ex. Way to punch me in the fucking gut, instagram. Seriously fuck you Instagram, Fuck you Mark Zuckerfuck. The last thing I want to see is my ex to remind me of how much I miss her. Fuck, there’s that word again. Ex. Ex, example, exaggerate, exacerbate. But I think I’m just at the point I’ve had too much to drink and I shouldn’t be blogging my thoughts out loud because a drunken mind tends to spin webs of truth that we often get tangled up in. So it’s just another day I have to go on living, like everything is fine, like I’m alright, like I don’t hate myself like I have been this past semester as school and keep this silly, little stupid, facade and smile on my face. First drafts are always the worst kind of draft because there are often so many errors, revisions and things expressed which at the time of writing are non-sensical due to the nature that you’re just trying to get your ideas and thoughts out as first as you can before forgetting them. Things will be said that you didn’t really mean and wonder why you wrote it in the first place.


Lost Love

I was just browsing through my facebook feed and saw that one the little sister of one of my friends was just engaged and is getting married. I now officially feel too old. Why? because she is young, in fact, too young in my opinion to be getting married. Here I am at the ripe age of 27 while people I went to school with and what seems almost everyone around me is either married, getting married, or having kids, it only leaves me to question myself. What am I doing with myself? My life? I had the opportunity to join the ranks of the many, the married, but I guess I screwed up. I missed my shot as I guess I waited to long to put a ring on it? Or in the paraphrased words of Kanye, “To lock that love down” I don’t know, I’m just left with five lost years of my life that I will never get back. No big deal. I sound bitter. Maybe because I slightly am. But that’s another story for another time. But regardless of how long I took to pop a silly question, what the fuck does that matter? When you love someone and you know you want to be with them, “titles” or materialistic things such as that shouldn’t matter. All that should matter is the fact that you’re with them and that you’re committed to them.