Sometimes

Sometimes, good things don't work out.

Sometimes, bitterness doesn't help numb anything.

Sometimes, the disappointment and frustration of an unfair situation eats me from the inside out, making it impossible to breathe.

At the end of the day, not every man who hurts a woman is a villain. Sometimes, he is merely doing what he needs to do in order to survive.

But where does that leave me?

Deep chasms cut into your rigid brow
painting streaks of worry across your soft face.
Your eyes carry with them
glassy remnants of sorrow and regret,
splashed with dashes of embarrassment.

Your words get caught in your throat
as weighted silence creeps through cracks
and seeps into long-forgotten crevices
leaving no empty airspace for
your sympathetic attempt to
appease the disappointment
choking me.

Discomfort wraps her tight arms around your throat;
I can almost feel her fingernails
scrape at your vocal chords,
ripping away your ability to speak.
Simultaneously she deposits a dense mass
in the bottom recesses of my gut,
magnetically binding me to my rigid place
at your right hand.

The urgent need to complete this complicated task
overpowers Discomforts reigning grasp.
As her lengthy fingers retreat,
your lips part to reveal a shadowed channel
destined to deliver the night’s misfortune,
despite the stillness of the dark
alluringly passing outside your window.

“I’m sorry,
I never meant to…”
Begging for forgiveness,
your words permeate the air,
slowly and softly.

Funny,

My last post on this blog was... a year ago. Exactly. Well, almost exactly. Minus a half hour or so.

You've missed a lot. Hell, I've missed a lot. But you really have. You've missed

-A relationship with the [almost] love of my life (in its entirety)

-An anti-climactic graduation from college

-Meetings with Air Force recruiters

-Various love affairs (You know me) that NEVER live up to what I think I need

-Multiple divine revelations proving that God does, indeed, have a sense of humor.

I'm really sure that You have missed far more than this, but this brings me to the point of this post. Nothing that happened in the last year is something I want to rehash for various misfits and Facebook [barely] friends to read at 3:17 A.M. when they should be asleep but are instead putting off studying for their Bio test by Facebook stalking people they swear they wished they talked to more.

I don't care that much.

So here's the update in one sentence: I am a recent-college-grad applying my baccalaureate[no I didn't have to spell check that; isn't that sad?]-acquired communication skills in the Food Service Industry while still looking for love [unfortunately] but settling, instead, for a good read by a cozy fire (currently: Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahnuik).

In summary? I'm boring.

I'm not going to pretend that I am going to use this blog to keep all of my millions [ha] of readers up-to-date on my devotion to new years resolutions.

I'm not going to use this space to shove sappy love stories down Your throats in an attempt to reassure you that I am happy.

I'm not going to share with the internet the succes of my diets, or of my spirituality, or of my love life.

What I am going to do is something that I have neglected to do for far too long: I am going to write.

I am going to write anything and everything that pops into my head. I am going to write [bad] poetry, and cynical exposés on the human condition, and one line wonders. I will write quotes from authors I aspire to [but will never] be like. I will write because it makes me happy, and it has been a lot time since I have done something just because it makes me happy to do it.

So join me for the ride.

Or don't join me.

Or only join me when it is 3:17 A.M. and you remember you haven't checked my blog in a while and probably can kill 45 minutes catching up on my posts so you have an excuse not to study for the aforementioned test.

I don't care.

Because this?

This is for me.