RIP


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RIP all the bs I’ve written out of some screwed up idealistic and totally inaccurate view of myself and what I’m supposed to be. I was looking over some of my old posts, trying to find the time frame of certain things from 2012 that I should probably not talk much about, and I couldn’t help but notice that for a while I changed, said stuff I didn’t mean, and hurt people who actually were not trying to screw me over. Never again.

I hereby vow to never write something out of some misguided sense of loyalty, or trying to appease someone, or some other screwed up reason. I will never again put myself in a position where my entire world hinges on someone’s idea of who I am, or who I should be. The posts I wrote then, and the fact that I hurt people who were truly my friends, online or not, sickens me and it will not happen again. Ruining the friendships I had built here was an absolute mistake, but I was too weak and insecure to see that. That version of me has died. No one will ever coerce me into writing things that I don’t feel true again, and I’m so sorry I ever allowed it to happen.

I love being tangled up in you.


I had the strangest dream last night.

I must admit it felt so right.

I was alone, (or so it seemed)

Till it appeared, (or so I dreamed).

The rarely seen, mysterious beast

Upon whom I like to feast.

It drew me in, this twitching string.

I played the cat, clawed at the thing.

Focus on, my mind entranced

Spellbound as the string danced.

I finally caught the elusive thing;

That taunting, disappearing string.

It felt so good between my paws,

Tasting it within my jaws.

Did I play with it, or it with me?

One day the truth I just might see.

It doesn’t matter either way,

The game is fun when both can play.

But now it’s time to groom my fur.

To rub a leg and start to purr.

One day we will meet again.

My muse, and captivating friend.

Do you ever miss me?




I’m doing ok.

Life is actually really good in many ways.

I don’t even miss you all the time. 

But I do sometimes.

Like tonight.

It would be fun to text harass the shit out of you.

Saying nothing important.

I don’t know why.

Sometimes I think that I _______________ you so much because of a fantasy.

I believed you were a kindred spirit. 

Corny, I know.

You understood me in ways that I’m still discovering.

At least my fantasy of you did.

You seemed to…the whole you, not just my dream parts, seemed to know me.

So, it’s your fault.

Why I miss you.

Why I smile just thinking about you reading this and knowing it’s about you.

Do you even read me anymore?

Do you miss me some nights too? 

Dare I say it…miss my endless textversations with myself on your behalf?

I don’t know, maybe you’re glad for the quiet. 

Maybe I was too much for you.

If so don’t blame yourself.

Please don’t start to cry, and no need to call a therapist.

You can alway text me about it.

I don’t get it


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You say you don’t want to play this game
If it was a game, I’d feel the same.
The problem is it’s very real.
I can’t escape the way I feel.

What did I do or say
That made it so easy for you to run away?
Why am I even bothered by it?
It would be better if I didn’t give a shit.

I know exactly what I should do;
Let me be me, and you be you.
Play the part of “I don’t care”
Laugh and dance; learn life’s not fair.

If you love something, let it go
If it comes back, then you’ll know.
But what will I know; that it was a game?
That no one could ever feel the same?

That life is best spent by myself?
Emotions kept neatly on a shelf?
Never risking love or loss?
Floating along, not trying to cross?

Never looking for something more
Than a life that’s easy to ignore.
One day it will somehow end;
This hope of finding a true friend.

Until that day I’ll be just fine.
So please forgive this poetic whine.
For now I’ll simply smile and nod.
Become the happy, perfect fraud.

When you really should be sorry


A good friend of mine died today. She was almost 60 years older than me, but some people are kindred spirits, regardless of age. I don’t know exactly when we connected, or how. She was a very good friend of my mom’s, but when we met…I don’t know how to describe it. There are some people in this life who you should connect with.

We would occasionally get together for tea, and her perfect scones, and we would talk and laugh like we were kids. I told her about a friend in college that loved pennies. She said she loved dimes. Whenever she saw a shiny dime on the ground, she would be just a little excited, like it was a little treasure.

I cleaned her house a few times and one occasion, I brought a roll of dimes and left them in different spots all over the house. Later, when I had kids, we visited her and I sent them around with more dimes. Silly, but when you can bring a little joy into a life for a few dollars, it would be a shame to pass up the chance.

Her husband had died many years before I knew her, and she missed him as if it were yesterday. Things hadn’t been perfect between the two of them, but true love can handle some really rough times.

One time she told me that my mom was at times “too prude for her own good”. We laughed a lot. Cried together sometimes too. She sent me a letter a couple of months ago. I should have written her back, but life got in the way. She would understand though. She always did.

Anyway, I’m not writing this for sympathy. She lived a good life. This is not a life that should be mourned. In fact, the only thing that I think I really should be sorry for, is a life spent in self-pity, in fear, etc. A life not lived at all.

So, here’s to you my dear friend…a virtual toast in celebration of a beautiful life.