Monday, January 26, 2009

...of a heartbreak.

"Once I put my coat on, coming out in this all wrong.
She's standing outside holding me. saying oh please,
I'm in love... I'm in love.
Girl save your soul, go on save your soul.
Before it's to far gone and before nothing can be done."

Clinging to his chest, the sobs making my body tremble, he looked down at me.

No more than a simple apologetic look.

He unclenched my fists, and walked away. No look back, no final 'goodbye', just his back going further and further away.

A pain seared through my body rendering me useless for what I can only assume to be hours. Tears ceased to roll down my cheeks, falling onto my chest, slowing getting absorbed into my sweatshirt. The makeup I had so carefully applied earlier had found it's way into the weaving of the threads of my pillow, the blanket I cocooned myself into twisting itself around my ankle.

The guttural heaves of air choke me as I fight back the harshest reality.

I'm not in love.

Thursday, September 18, 2008


When I walked out the door, the sun was barely up as I looked around. Dew was still on the ground, birds were not chirping, lights all off. I got into the car and placed a pillow between my head and the door and drifted into a deep sleep I hadn't gotten the night before.

The sun shined in the car window as we traveled down an interstate surrounded on both sides by farms. Every once in a while the light would get lost behind the trees we past, but the dancing light wouldn't allow sleep. The music in my ears tapped out a seemingly happy tune. Sometime about wanting to call you baby all the time.

I opened my eyes as we passed a large red barn with several horses eating hay outside of it. A very familiar buzzing sound caught my attention as I sat up. My mother reached for her cell phone and took a deep breath.

"Hi Daddy, what's going on?"

A long silence followed.

"Oh Daddy. Just hold on to her and tell her we love her. Can you do that for us? Stay with her Daddy. We'll be there soon. I love you."

She closed the phone and dropped it. She looked out the window and then back at me and my sister in the back seat.

"She's... gone."

The words echoed in my ears. My mother started crying hysterically-as did my sister. I tear r two fell down my father's face. I sat there unbelieving.

This wasn't happening. It was just a dream. I would wake up and we would be in a new state, closer to my grandparents and happy with my family. I wasn't actually watching my mother heave and choke on her own her own tears. My sister wasn't curled up in a ball crying uncontrollably. And certainly my father wasn't letting silent tears fall steadily out of his eyes.

"Ed, I need to you stop the car. I need to you get me something to calm my nerves. I need sugar. Ed, pull the car over. Ed, stop the car. Stop the car."

My father pulled the car over at the first gas station we saw. He looked back at my sister, then at me and asked if I wanted to go in with him. I shook my head yes, pulled my shoes out from under the seat, and got out of the car. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and walked me in to the store.

"Baby, are you aware of what's going on?"

I looked at him with his tear streaked face. His wrinkles seemed deeper, his eyes more tired.

My eyes opened whiter and I started sobbing in the middle of the store.

"I... want... my.. Nanny."

"Baby, she's fine. Grandma died."


He pulled out his phone and called her. He handed the phone over to me and I cried to her. I told her how much I loved her and that I wanted her to be with me. I wanted her here. I wanted to be with my Nanny. She promised to be on the first train to New York.

I straightened up and walked back out to the car.

A few days passed, and the next thing I know I'm standing in the back of a church dressed in black pantsuit and a blue shirt. I walked down the isle and took my place in a bench with my family.

The father stood up in the front of the church and asked us to bow our heads.

"As we walk through the valley of death, we shall fear no evil."

Monday, August 18, 2008

Favorite Word.

So, it occured to me that I haven't written anything lately. It's not that I've been too busy or anything. It's simply been because I haven't been up to writing. I've started several entries, but I can't make myself complete one.

When a dear friend of mine asked for an explaination of my favorite word, I gave her one.I thought I'd share it. But, instead of giving the explanation that I gave her, I'm going to story it.


Stepping out of the elevator I knew it the next twenty-four hours weren't going to be easy. The smell hit me before I had even walked in the main entrance, so the trip to the 7th floor got more nauseating with each step.

"The helicopter just landed on the roof. Get room 7068 ready for a 3 month old patient please."

My heart dropped a little. I forced myself to take another step. I needed to just ignore everything going on around me until I made it to the end of the hall. I lowered my stare and quickened my pace until I reached my nephew's door.

The steady beeping calmed me a little as I recognized a lullaby playing softly in the room. I stepped in and looked into the white crib standing alone in the middle of the room. A small little boy looked up at me with big blue eyes. He squirmed a little and reached up for me. I smiled at him, gave him my finger, and leaned forward to kiss him.

"Are you family?"

I turned around to face a older woman with grey hair and a soft smile.

"Yea, I'm his aunt. Have you seen my sister or brother-in-law?"

We talked for a couple minutes and she explained to me that my mother had convinced the other two to go and eat something. She also explained what was going on with James and how they were trying to fix it.

"He's going into surgery in about an hour. Someone will be come in about 15 minutes to take his blood for preliminary tests just to make sure we're doing what we're supposed to."

With that statement, she left the room.

I stood at the side of the cradle staring down at my nephew. Barely 3 months old and already having to go in for his second surgery. He had spent most of his life in a hospital. Sure he'll never remember any of it, but this isn't the story we wanted to be telling him when he grew up. My heart broke for the poor boy. Not only for him, but for all the small children I saw hooked up to IVs and bandaged all over.

My family returned and I excused myself for a couple minutes to I could shake off the sight of James hooked up to four different monitors. I circled the pediatric wing twice before I let myself notice my surroundings. I walked by a playroom with a little girl sitting in it and turned around. She was sitting in a miniature chair holding on to a very worn looking stuffed rabbit. Cracking open the door, she looked up at me.

"Will you come play with me?"
"Sure! What do you want to play?"

We played with building blocks for a while and talked about how old she was, what grade she was in, what she liked to do. For a 5 year old, she was very talkative. I let her play with my hair for a while and I played with hers. I asked her to color me a picture, and in the middle of doing so, she started to cry.

"I don't like being here. Nobody ever plays with me. And all the needles scare me. I don't like being poked and no matter how many times I tell them 'no' they won't stop. Can you make them stop? You're so nice."

I held back tears. Even though my nephew wouldn't remember being here, she would. I wanted to be able to tell her that I could make them stop, but lying isn't in my nature.

"You want to get better, don't you? The doctors know what they're doing. You need to trust them sweetheart, they're going to fix you so you can grow big and tall."

She stared at me with big brown eyes and cried harder. Crawling into my lap, she wrapped her arms around my neck. The grip was so tight it almost felt as though she was trying to press herself into me. As if I could become some sort of body armor for her.

I rubbed her back and stroked her hair. The front of my shirt was covered in tears and snot, but I didn't care.

"Lovie, it's going to be alright. "

She pulled away and sniffled.

"I like that name, lovie. It makes me feel better. Will you keep calling me that?"
"Of course lovie. Anything you want."

Thursday, July 10, 2008


Feeling completely out of the ordinary, she sat down at the computer.

She quickly read what was flashing on the screen and stood up. Her eyes filled with tears and she began to run.

She thought the best sound in the world was the sound of her tennis shoes slapping the pavement at 5:30 in the morning. The musky air and stillness of the world made her comfortable in ways she could never explain. The contrast of her white shoes and the pitch black pavement made her chuckle every time she looked down at her feet. The slight wetness of the grass made good traction difficult, but she enjoyed the challenge.

Running was her therapy. Because she couldn't run from anything or anyone, she ran for herself. She ran for all the times she had been hurt, when it felt like her heart was slowly being taken apart piece by piece. She ran for all the times she had been scared of how something would turn out, when she thought she would fail. Most importantly she ran for all the times she felt nothing, and thought that she should.

It happened quite frequently, really.

It's not like she didn't have emotions. She had more passion in her for the things she loved than she could convey properly, more compassion for every person in her life than anyone understood, and more saddness for the things that didn't work out than a typical person would.

As she ran over a small bridge she glanced down at the water. A couple of small fish were sitting idly next to a branch that had fallen into the pond. It was 5:30 in the morning, she figured, nature's probably still sleeping.

She turned up the volume to her music almost as loud as it would go and kept on running. Her chest started to hurt and she could feel the tears coming. Everyday this happened. She would be at peace with everything, and then life hit her in the face like a ton of bricks. Gasping for air she slowed down and the tears fell. Refusing to stop, she made her way back to her house.

She walked in one of the side doors to her house and sprawled out on the floor. The carpet was softer in that room than the rest of the house mainly because it was a throw rug, but also because it didn't get much use. Laying on her back she pulled the headphones out of her ears, shut her iPod off, and wrapped the cords around it. She rolled over onto her side and slowly stood up.

As she past her computer again, she debated answering the flashing message on the screen.

Deciding not to, she started getting ready for the day.

Saturday, July 5, 2008

Beautiful Disaster.

"...You're a beautiful disaster. Someday, someone's gonna make you get yourself to happiness, and it's gonna be amazing."

I sat there, looking at the statement in an almost awe.

I rubbed the hair off my forehead and looked out the window. A car went down the road and the headlights danced over the walls, reflecting off the the glass and mirrors temporarily illuminating the room. Fiddling with the rings on my fingers, I responded with the only thing I could.

"Who says I'm not happy?"

It was a superfluous statement. I knew I wasn't, and from what I could tell he had me pinned. I stood up and stretched, the blood slowly returning to my limbs. I plopped back down in my chair and pulled my computer up onto my lap again.

"It's beautiful because you care so damn much and are an awesome person. It's a disaster because I think you're stopping yourself short in the pursuit of perfection and happiness."

The topic was quickly changed. It was very hard for me to sit there and realize that what he was saying was true.

We talked a little while longer and then said goodnight... I layed in bed for a good hour afterwards replaying the words he said in my head. I couldn't believe that someone could actually come to that conclusion about me. I was always happy, always laughing and smiling, always taking care of someone. It never occured to me that being that way was stopping me short in this quest for perfection or happiness.

I pulled the blankets up over my head and went to sleep. It was that night that I had one of those dreams.

I was standing in the middle of kitchen that opened up to a living room. There we a bunch of people, all my age drinking and laughing and dancing around. I joined in, taking shots and mixing drinks like everyone else. There was a guy there... roughly my height and very muscular doing the same thing I was doing. I went down into the basement of the house and laid on the couch. He joined me shortly and we spent a good portion of the night just talking.

We moved from the couch to a bed and then to a dock. It was slightly cold outside and the breeze coming off the lake only added to the chill.

Sitting there staring at the stars listening to him scared me. He was telling me stories and experiences that hurt him, and there was nothing I could do about it. No matter how much I tried, I knew that I would never be able to fix it.

I was furious. I wanted to scream. I wanted to pull my hair out with anger that someone I knew and cared about could be hurt. My mind immediately went to all the people I care for or I love. I would shatter into a million pieces if for some reason anything happened at all to them.

"You just need to take care of yourself and separate yourself from the pain of others."

With those words I woke up. I looked around my room, down at the clock, and up at the ceiling. I stumbled up the stairs and creeped into my sitting room. I picked up my computer and wrote him back. I told him he was right, I understood, and I wanted to fix it.

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. Even if it doesn't happen instantly, it's an amazing start."

For the first time I'm going to fix something that needs to be fixed. But this time, it's for me.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008


“Why did you come here?”

I couldn’t dodge it anymore. He had me pinned… there was nothing to hide behind. I sat back in my chair and looked him in the eye.

“Because… Well, I don’t know. If I had any idea I probably would have talked myself out of it. All I know is this morning I packed a bag and drove. I ended up here. School’s starting in a month, and I’m extremely scared. This is my first year as a definitive major. And Pre-Med for Jesus’ sake! I’m going to kill myself. Or maybe it’s because I’m getting married in 6 months to my high school sweetheart and I’m afraid of it failing. Or maybe because of the dream I’ve been having for the past three years.”

What dream?”

So I told him about the dream, and how I wake up crying every time. He pulled me closer and rested his chin on my shoulder.

“Well, that’s a problem know isn’t it?”

I kind of chuckled. I didn’t know what else to do, and it felt good just sitting there with him. It reminded me of the nights we spent watching movies and playing video games together. He rubbed my back for a moment then scooped up our plates. We talked as he did the dishes trying to interpret the dream the best we could. It was funny, when I had tried to talk to my roommate or even Dolan about it I felt embarrassed or awkward… but not with Chris.

“It’s almost 1 in the morning and I’ve got to be at the lab at 8:30. Do you need a place to stay?”

He took me upstairs and let me have my pick of the rooms. I chose one that was surely decorated by his mother. Everything from the color of the walls to the knobs on the dresser reminded me of her. The bedspread was a solid maroon color with a deep brown trim. The walls were the same color brown. I threw my bag on the bed and turned around to say goodnight. We stood there, awkwardly hugging for a minute or two. I let go and he kissed my forehead like he used to every time we said goodnight or goodbye. He pulled the door shut and I pulled my toothbrush out of my bag. Right next to it was my cell phone, “5 missed calls”. Oh fuck.

Two were from Dolan, one from my mother, one from my roommate, and one from Dolan’s best friend. Apparently there was a search of some sort for me. I called my roommate first and let her know I was okay. We talked about what happened for a while and she told me to do what I needed to do. I decided to wait to call my mother back until the morning and called Dolan. It rung 4 times before a very groggy voice answered the phone.

“Sweetheart, where are you? It’s one in the morning… I tried calling…”

I explained to him that I was in Baltimore visiting an old friend, and I would be home in a couple of days. He started with a million questions and began to become frantic. I told him that no, everything was okay, I’m really fine, I just needed a getaway before school started, I love you, trust me, I’ll call you when I get a chance, bye.

I crawled into the bed and pulled the covers up over me and under my chin. The rain pitter-pattered on the window as I drifted off asleep.

Monday, June 23, 2008


He looked roughly the same as the last time I had seen him. He hadn’t gained any weight, or cut his hair in a while. The shag looked good on him though. He was clean-shaven, which was a huge shock.

“I know, it’s quite a shock. The lab I’m working at now requires a clean shaven face.”

I stood up and he still towered a good 6 inches over me. I kind of smiled and shook my head. Even after not seeing each other for 3 years he could still read my facial expressions like a book.
We exchanged pleasantries for a while, and sat there. Just being there and sitting next to him I knew it was what I was supposed to be doing. All my worrying had been unnecessary. We stood up and walked back to our cars with a plan for me to follow him back to his house. When I got in my car I chuckled. Here I was driving a brand BMW that Dolan had bought me and Chris was still driving the same Honda Civic he had before he went off to college. He fell in love with the car and told me one night that he would never get rid off it, not until the day it died and couldn’t be fixed.

What probably should have taken a half hour took us 15 minutes to navigate through. He pulled into the drive next to a rather decent sized house for being in the middle of a major city. I pulled over in the road right in front and got out. The house was brick, and had a white walk up. The yard was small, but what more would you expect? What it was lacking in quantity it made up for in quality. The grass was soft and the rose bushes emitted the most amazing scent I had ever smelled. I took a closer look at the rose bushes despite the gaining darkness and stepped back. I couldn’t believe it. Immediately I thought it must have been a coincidence.

“Chris… yellow?”
“Yea, yellow.”

We walked in the door to a rather cluttered foyer. He pardoned the mess and took my jacket from me. We walked in the kitchen and he opened the fridge. I didn’t want anything, so he pulled a water out for himself and popped it open. We sat at the table by ourselves for a good hour talking about small things before deciding we were both hungry. Chris opened his cabinets to reveal anything you ever wanted. We settled on spaghetti, the only thing we were both excellent at making and content with eating.

As we sat down to eat, he finally asked me why I was there. I carefully thought over the answer. Even though I hate it, I answered a question with a question.

“Have you ever heard of the game ‘Truth’? You get to ask the other person anything you want and they have to answer with the truth. Or not at all. But if they don’t answer, they risk losing.”

He nodded no, and then shrugged.

“Oh, well, I was going suggest playing, but we don’t have to.”
“It seems like a high school drink party game to me.”
“Funny, I’m pretty sure that’s where I learned it.”

Chris agreed to play, so I started. I asked simple questions at first asking about how he got his job, what happened with him and his last girlfriend, why he had such a big house for just himself, and why his cabinets were so well filled. He answered honestly – a friend knew a suit at the lab, they didn’t see eye to eye on the importance of work verses a relationship, because he liked it and it already had yellow roses in the front, and his parents had just left two days ago and his mom did his grocery shopping for him one day. Chris asked small questions back about how college was going, had I finally decided on a major, how I was handling the work. But the he dropped the big one.