Aug 3

August 3rd, 2014

My darling William,

One year ago today you sort-of, kind-of, possibly, maybe asked me to be your girlfriend. A year ago today I started dating someone who would become my fiancé and my best friend. The best lover I’ve ever had, the most interesting person I have ever met. The one who was able to get me to look at the world and myself a little different. I will be honest- I had no idea in that moment sitting on top of a grassy knoll but then again you probably didn’t either. I didn’t know it then but I know today that I cannot imagine a future in which you aren’t by my side, nor would I want to. It’s like you always say, if I could have imagined a future for myself a year ago I would have only been selling myself short because what has actually transpired is nothing short of amazing.

I’ve never met anyone like you, it sounds so cliché but it is the truth. You, my darling William, are a rarity. The complexity that is you and the forces that drive you are mesmerizing to me. I learn a little bit more about you each day and I can only hope moving forward that will always be the case. 

We got real close real fast. It was sort of like a whirlwind romance except we’re still here and I’m still crazy about you. If I can say one thing about this past year it’s that there was never a dull moment. I know that as of late things have been kind of rocky for the both of us. We’ve been through a lot and we’ve still got some things to work through. But the fact that I’m willing, the fact that I’m still here, the fact that we even made it through the fire of these last few weeks together, it means something to me. I hope it means something to you too.

I am so proud of us; more than that though, I am so proud of you. William, do you know what you’ve overcome and how far you’ve traveled in just a year’s time? You are Superman my love. I’m blessed and honored to be on your team. We spend a lot of time together and whenever I look at you while we’re talking, while we’re watching TV, while you’re working, while we’re just sitting in silence… I feel so much love in my heart, but I also feel admiration for the feats you’ve overcome. I know there are times you don’t believe these things to be true but I hope you will try to, always. Besides, with me on your side what could possibly stop the both of us?

All this was to say that I can’t wait to grow old together, to start a family, to fight and make up, to always love each other, to cry and to laugh and to spend more days… together. A year ago today, on top of some grassy knoll, my life changed and I just wanted to commemorate it with a letter to you, that sort of sound like vows, but oh well I’ve written this much and I’m dedicated to the cause so there. I hope you will excuse my grammatical errors and whatever literary faux pas I may have committed in favor of the essence of the message I’ve attempted to convey. I love you and I choose you, which might be the most critical part of it all.

Happy One Year Anniversary (of the day you asked me to go steady.)

- Your Sivvy.

This is my therapy session.

When I feel the way that I feel right this moment, during other moments, I think the thoughts that I’m thinking right now, then, as well. This is how I know I’m describing a feeling that is rooted in something tangible (metaphorically?) 

When you are breaking down. When you are spinning out. When you are experiencing anxieties (which to me seem trivial) that are debilitating and unmanageable. I am always there. When you are right. When you are wrong. When you’re in a blackout. When you’re being a selfish asshole. I am always fucking there. 

Mistake after shortcoming after failure after apology I have stayed…

But when I am sad. When I am hurting. When I am crying. When I am feeling disconnected from you and try to explain in my unpoetic ways with my imperfect sentences and incomplete thought particles… You aren’t there. And I’m beginning to despise you for it. 

I can’t be a part of this when the precedents of our encounters dictate that I am not allowed to fall apart. There will be no help in putting my parts back together. My hands are tired from one trying to prop myself up while the other one blindly stumbles around for fragments it can recognize from touch-memory. 

Sometimes it’s as simple as needing to feel your body nudge up against mine in a deliberate, sweet, and safe manner. Sometimes it’s as annoying as you telling me to talk to you when you hear me sniffling on the other side of that vast king bed when it’s probably the last thing you want to hear.

I had excuses for it before. The drugs. The place you are in life. The acclimation process. The sun. The stars. The goddamn Astros. But the excuses are tired of being forced into the equation and my spirit is worn out from trying to stay afloat. I deserve better. I require better. I am asking for bread and butter, not figs and wine, I need you to see this or let me go. 

No. I need to reaffirm these beliefs in myself and let you go. Right?

Perhaps- there is a middle ground. The thing I search so desperately for, all the fucking time. 

How do you tell him…

That he’s beautiful when all he sees is all he sees in his reflection. 
That you wish to churn out carbon copies of images you’ve cultivated nightly; staring into his eyes and breathing in his closeness.

You want to present these to him in an album so he would revel in all his magnificence, as you have, moments permitting. Because he truly is magnificent.

Despite his flaws, or rather, because of them… in addition to… you see this wonderful creature that’s crawled out of rubble who is still able to laugh and smile and love and wonder. And to you that shows strength and perseverance and a fervor to be alive which you envy sometimes. He teaches you with every triumph and refusal to give up and give in, that you’ve got a long road ahead of you if you want to reach that level of achievement.  

How do you tell him that you feel foolish to love him sometimes because you’re 25 and he’s 32. He’s been married and divorced. He’s been in punch drunk love and has a child with another woman. How do you tell him you feel so insignificant to the backdrop of his past because you have nothing of the sort to offer him just yet. I have nothing to offer you  besides this: me. My heart, body and soul. No insane stories to tell like you have with them for me. 

How do you tell him that things will be okay and have him believe you? 

I guess you don’t tell him these things. I guess you just show him.

Feels of the moment

I don’t know if I can do this much longer. I’m not sure if I even want to. That is not to say I don’t want him. I want him in my life and in my future. I want this man to be the father of my children and stay by my side until we join our higher power. What I’m not sure I want to keep doing is feeling this way sometimes. Because when it happens, fuck, I’m in a dark pit. And the thing is I know that things don’t have to be this way. There is no reason for it. When we’re chemically balanced in our heads, when we’re at our best, when we’re staying consistent and in charge of ourselves… we can be great. This applies to everyone I suppose. It’s just a matter of being with the kind of person that can bring it out in you. Someone that is worth all that effort. And being in a place where you love and respect yourself enough to know that this is worth doing with this person so damn it I’m gonna do it. 

I love him more than I have loved any other partner in the past. I love him and it’s a love I need not boast about or lament over. I just love him. It’s comfortable and it’s exciting and it’s new every day. I am at home with him whether we’re cooking, sprawled out on the couch, taking road trips, sitting in a church, sleeping in bed, reading near each other, talking shit about hipsters in houston… he’s my anchor to this earth and I’m so lucky to have found him. He’s helped me to tap into a strength in myself I didn’t know I had. And as damaged as he was when he came to me he has inspired in me many a great changes and new appreciations in my own life. He isn’t perfect. Neither am I. And knowing that makes all the difference. 

So I need to keep loving him through his dark moments. His less than ideal moments. He may not be there for me during mine like I am for him but he does the best he knows how and for now that has to be enough. 

I’m struggling with having to deal with my own emotions and then be the good partner and be there for him when he’s dealing with his as well… he tells me (when he’s at his best) that I should just leave him to deal with them himself. I think what he doesn’t seem to understand is that I’m not trying to deal with them for him. I just try to be present and sympathize. I try to stay strong when he’s weak so he can see there’s light at the end of that tunnel he’s in. But he attacks me and it stings. I need to brush it off… but it’s hard. It’s hard because I know when he makes it out of that tunnel he will forget how he spoke to me and treated me when he was in there. And I’m just supposed to dance around the fire like everything is better now but no. I’m hurt by what he’s said and what he’s done. But once he’s ‘better’ there is no backtracking. There is no talking about it. There is no “rehashing the past” because he isn’t there anymore and I need to get where he is. 

I don’t crave for apologies or gestures of grandeur. I want what every human being deserves. To be heard. To be understood. To be valued and respected enough to engage in meaningful conversation with me instead of telling me that I am wrong or weak or being a pain. I know that we are capable of this but when we fall short it takes the wind right out of my sails. 

I’m trying to decipher my fault in this. Where am I going wrong. What is it that I’m doing that is causing me to be detrimental to myself? Because if I could figure that out then maybe I could successfully get through one of these moments without any feelings of injustice and feeling taken advantage of. 

Taken advantage of. That seems more negative than it should. I think I need to reflect on that a little more.

I’ve tried multiple approaches on broaching this specific feeling of mine. Each failed miserably so I’m reduced to holding it in but it’s giving me killer anxiety whenever I sense a disagreement is about to come up. And it’s usually something he has done that is wrong but he flips the script on me and in the end I’m left swallowing my pride, brushing away my tears, having my ‘girl moment’ and apologizing. Tail tucked between my legs… hoping he will see my brave gesture for what it is and come down off his high horse where we commoners reside and show me that he’s capable of being kind. 

I’m still hoping. 

Mar 2

As far as Russia is concerned, the US is only respecting Ukraine’s sovereignty because the US saw an opportunity to hook up with Ukraine after its recent revolution, and Russia will be damned if it’s going to let the US pull that male feminist niceguy bullshit and fuck it’s ex-girlfriend. Russia is getting its dog back and the US is left to blog and whine on behalf of Ukraine because as much as the US would like to gently fuck Ukraine, it’s not worth a confrontation with Russia.

- A Guide To The Ukrainian Conflict For Thought Catalog Readers. (via nedhepburn)

You are the old rusty anchor that I tie my drifting boat to
Middle of the sea; rhythmically bobbing incessantly

The weeds outside our window sun-kissed and resilient as weeds are
remind me of you at your best. Tall and unrelenting with the wind at your back.

I imagine they only get about 3 hours of sunlight a day
Unluckily having to grow in the small space between our hut and a
chain link fence. 

But they’ve flourished. Just as you have flourished. 

In the end though they are still just weeds. As beautiful and as strong as they are they will be plucked and tossed in the garden heap to be taken out with Friday’s trash. 

Something about that seems wrong. 

You told me they were weeds actually. I thought they were the beginnings of a tree or a bush. But no, they’re just common weeds. And we’re not supposed to think they’re awesome. 

I will crawl back to his bed
tail between my legs
rub my head on his chest
and breathe in his scent

I will silence my rage
throw it in the backseat
pray it stays there where it won’t mess up my pretty smile
I am not ready to lay it at your feet

Blame me with whatever you have to
If it’ll help you feel better
Shift it all to me
As we see others do… this is how you learn

This is how the both of us learn
We learn to let go
We learn to be better
We learn how to silence the thunder looping at our window

We are able to pick out the trouble before it boils over and we are able to notice the bad habits before they become bad behavior. 

I tolerate a lot from people in general but something that I will not and cannot take in stride is being accused of something that is just not true. Truth, ladies and gentleman, is not subjective. Your opinions are. Your feelings are. Damn it- the fucking way the sun shines on your face might be. But the truth? The truth is called the truth because it is fact. It is accurate. It is exact. If I say I’m not lying then I’m not fucking lying. Unless the ‘I’ has a history or tendency to lie which in that case I’m not the expert because I am not that ‘I’… 

End. Of. Story. Fuck you. Have a good day. 

Letting Go Of Victimhood



You were abused as a child.

Your husband left you for another woman.

You were fired for no good reason when you’ve got three kids at home depending on you.

You got diagnosed with a scary illness.

You lost someone you love when that person was WAY too young.

The patriarchy violated you.

Ultimately, we will lose each other
to something. I would hope for grand
circumstance—death or disaster.
But it might not be that way at all.
It might be that you walk out
one morning after making love
to buy cigarettes, and never return,
or I fall in love with another …
It might be a slow drift into indifference.
Either way, we’ll have to learn
to bear the weight of the eventuality
that we will lose each other to something.
So why not begin now, while your head
rests like a perfect moon in my lap …?
Why not reach for the seam in this …
night and tear it, just a little, so the falling
can begin? Because later, when we cross
each other on the streets, and are forced
to look away, when we’ve thrown
the disregarded pieces of our togetherness
into bedroom drawers and the smell
of our bodies is disappearing like the sweet
decay of lilies—what will we call it,
when it’s no longer love?

- "Love Poem," Tishani Doshi  (via notebookings)

(Source: commovente)