[a terror musical]

Sit in the dark.

Turn on Bon Iver’s self-titled album. Lie on the floor. Burn incense. And fucking let go. There’s a point where you don’t have to hold on anymore because well, you don’t. No one is going to be able to tell you when you’ve reached that point. There’s no flag that will fly up in your mind. However, if your eyes are clouded with tears and you don’t know how to keep your eyes from brimming over anymore, just let them fall. And with each tear, tick off an apology, a forgotten eulogy to things you’ve lost, celebrate things you are nervously jittering over, or cry because you don’t know where the money’s coming from to make ends meet again.

                                                             But let it all go.

Lie on the floor until it’s done—-until every tear has traced a path down your cheek, until the last of the incense has burned down. And then I want you to pick yourself up off the floor and get your shit together. 

You are too strong to let the world defeat you. I promise you this. Look at what you’ve overcome. Tell me how many of those things you thought you could handle. 

                                                                                     You’ve got to believe.
                                                                                     And you’ve got to  [m o v e  o n.]

ghosts.

there is something bittersweet about realizing that someone can never be yours, that you are never rid of your ghosts. Oh, life will haunt you if you let it. It will consume you. You will go mad, reliving memories to wonder if your memories with him were memories he shared with another girl. If you were just a re-creation of his first love.

Yeah, love will burn and sting and god will it hurt. But oh, when you find it again, when you have begun to heal, when you realize that it can be something better than what you’ve known, when you realize you deserve love, that’s it. Right there. Hold onto that moment. And realize that someone is never yours. They are not a possession. Do not hope to possess or to be possess, but lace your fingers in those of your love and appreciate each day you are given.

Where My Heart Is

When I say, “Baby, come home,” I mean,
“Baby, I’m home.” Come to me and I will 
creak in the middle of the night as you press yourself
deeper into blankets tucked tightly around you.
I will keep shelter over you so that
the World cannot dampen your mood. I’ll open my eyes in the morning,
two delicate window frames that will show you sincerity and give you hope.
My mouth will explode in laughter and I will always have an open door for you
to my heart.

Baby, come home,
because I’m lost without you,
I’m waiting for the men to come to demolish what’s left,
to take me apart piece-by-piece, right down to the
foundation. 

All they will find is you.
You built me up from what I once was into what I am now,
You painted my cracked surfaces and called them new,
You said, she’s comfortable. You said, she’s beautiful and when she smiles,
I feel the sun on my skin and her lips taste like freedom.
You said, she is what I wanted and I am lucky to have found her.

So as I’m sitting here alone on the couch wondering where you are,
Wondering what you’re wondering,
I just want you to know that I miss you,
that the basement is leaking or maybe these are just tears falling down my cheek,
This is just my body’s way of saying it is better with yours near.

Baby, come home.
You are home. 

It has become painfully obvious that the words I let loose into the world have become my demise. And now, I lie in my bed, a curled up ball, a fragment of myself, and I weep.

But not for me. I weep for you because you are lost.

tomorrow…

I will wake early, I will go get the remaining things off of my grocery list, I will go to the gym, I will pack a dinner for work and a snack because my metabolism is nutso now.

And I will go to the craft store to pick up the things I need to build him the best gift of all.