I think about it a lot. Like maybe I love you the way your dog does. Chasing you from room to room. Nervous when I can't see you. Just wanting your attention. Just wanting to be good to you. So sad when you're gone. Not having control at all. Belonging to you. Waiting to exist only when you open the door.

Maybe I love you like medicine. When I take you I feel stronger. I do better. I am accomplished. I feel whole. I get more done. I live life louder, brighter. I crave you. I take you too often. I am addicted.

Maybe I love you like sadness. Like a sad 80s song. Listening because I want to cry.  Like sitting alone in a cafe. Like driving alone on Sunday. Like staying home all night. Holding on to the pages of a sad book, clutched against my heart, sobbing. I can't let go.

I'd rather love you like a lion. I want to take care of the pride. I want to be the hunter. The animal of prey. For you. For me.

Could I love you like healing? Like growing strong. Living longer. Having real health. Being well alone.

Can I love you like peace? Like sending light to strangers. Like thinking about good memories. Like laughing at private jokes. Surrender.

Create

I just want to ask you if you remember the story I told you. A made up parable about an old man and some tasks? I can't remember if I made it up, if it was even clever and I want to be reminded. It's the last time I remember being creative and I need to know if it was mine. If I came up with it maybe  I can relearn that ability. The last time you gave me any good advice you asked me to never stop writing. I haven't written a real world since. I can't hear the music in my words and lack the sense of pleasure you need to make sentences harmonize. Everything has been too bland. When I lost my virginity I was told I was no longer special. "Welcome to the world, you're are no better than the worst just like anybody." Sometimes I let the thought that I gave away my art then too cross my mind. I could no longer create worthy things  because I chose to give away what made my value. I worry this and wonder if I can be a born again creative. Listening to classical music and praying to literature and art. I want to know if my words sound the same to the ones who would know. Is my voice hollow. I try to find something to grasp and find emptiness. I want to know if this is something I can fix.

Adoration

Orignal BS post: (03/22/2014)

I am having a lot of fun falling in love with myself. I started writing myself love letters in my own personal shorthand. They are always filled with awe and encouragement. Both words of wisdom and pride. It got me in the habit of looking for things about myself that I could notice and share later. "Look how you shake your kips when you order "Sex on the Beach!" what a dork... it's so adorable!!" Or " I didn't know how nervous you'd feel trying to leave a hotel room by yourself in new places. I am so proud of you overs coming that to experience life! You are brave." It's given me a focus on myself that I haven't felt in awhile. Positive observations of myself as well as supportive concern replaces internal reprimanding. It's given me a lot of time to consider and reason why I make the choices I do, and what I need to do for the future. I no longer make myself promises I won't keep. It helps my will power and it helps me accept what is done. Of course I sometimes disappoint myself or surprise myself but it's helping me solve simple problems and see myself as someone who can take care of myself. It's a work in progress.. The more I learn about myself the better my ability to love.



Edit: (09/18/2017)

this whole post is a lie. I never did any of this. And I can't remember if I wrote this as a creative writing exercise in bullshit or if I wanted people to think I was a ray of fucking sunshine and positivity. What people? Who would care? Why did I? What I do know is that I did not ever write positive stupid-head-ass notes of support  and adoration for myself. ever.

This reminds me of another random lie that has become family faction through the years.

My family has a few favorite stories they love to share about how much I hated my brother when he was brought home.

To illustrate let's play two truths and a lie.

1). I was given a doll and told it was "my baby" just like my new brother. After making the connection to the real garrett I started beating the shit out of the doll.

2). Baby bro was in his room and I tried to use a straw to suck the air out of the room.

3). My mom found me once "rocking" the new born so hard that he was rolling from one side of the crib to the other. *ba-dah ba-dah boom* *screaming baby* *ba-dah ba-dah boom*


Two of these stories are to the best of my knowledge true. I am not expected to remember any of them, which is good cause I don't remember having a childhood let alone hating my brother, ever. But one of these stories that gets told over and over is definitely a lie.


What I think has happened:

In middle school I had a friend whose little sister locked her in a closet and tried to suck the air out in an attempt to murder her. Cause she really did hate her. I remember my friends telling me the story, I thought it was great. It was one of those great stories that reminded me why I didn't want a sister. So sometime in 5th grade I must have mentioned this story in a way that gave me credit for this mastermind straw-plot. I dunno why. I guess I lie. I don't remember the lie but my parent's eventually started including it in there stories. I never corrected them. They have told it so many times they have started recalling it as if it had really happened and they remember it.

Crazy.


TLDR: Reality is an illusion. Memory is corruptible. I am a liar.

edit: a thing on how mental illness makes you think you have powers

A thing on how I believe in Astrology and vibes and mind powers and stuff


I really believe that you can will people into your life. You can literally disrupt their path and yours to intercede only because you will it.
I used to walk around my high school through out the halls during class and would will my high school boyfriend to show up. I didn't know his schedule or where to be but it literally always worked. He'd randomly show up. Especially when we were fighting. I think that correlates to how much more focused my will power was during times of duress.
I have been willing this other boy to notice me since puberty. That worked too. Eventually and really about the time that I really accepted that I was ready for it to happen.
Even with the crazy people who show up in your life by actually thrusting themselves into it fit into this idea. They will themselves right in. It's why they do crazy things. It's why they step out from behind curtains and profess their love to girls who have never seen them before. It's why they hide in the bushes outside of houses. It's why people go crazy, they can't help but to act on it because they've put so much thought into it that it has to manifest.
It's why screaming someone's name into the night can cause them to show up on the phone.
further into it it's why people make goals, and the how in how they accomplish them.
If you focus your thoughts on it it will happen, they will appear, options are presented, situations are created.

It's why dreaming about it is so scary. It might happen.


I think astrology is one of those things that helps you to focus your mind power/ will/ what have you. If you read about it, or think about it it's more likely to happen. The newspaper says you'll save money, you save money. The cards say you'll put yourself in dangerous situations, and you do. The internet says Mercury will cause you to revisit the past, especially past relationships, and you do. So I believe it. All of it. And like hoodoo all you have to do is believe for it to affect you. That's why you don't look up the symptoms for diseases, because you'll get them.