I've got my whole insomnia thing going on agian for me. I'm lying in bed with his picture and drowning in tear stained tissues. I know in my heart I looked and made all the effort I could. But after so long I knew it would never be.
Though he might argue that I didn't, don't be fooled into believing that I never thought about him, or pondered notions of an "us". I really did, I thought about the future he held steadily and confidently in his eyes, yet I still struggled to distinguish any representation.
Though I attempted with all that I had to find, at the end of the day I came home empty handed from the navigation into the depths of my mind.
Nothing of value did I ever retrieve-
From my heart, soul, or mind.
Quite frankly my responses of "All in time" later turned to mere "I don't know" and sighs. Ah yes, the sigh. I was good at those, and he knew what that meant.
DESPERATION. I wasn't grasping the ardent words that he spoke. I would never perceive all that he held so dear to his heart,
Everlasting happiness
Relentless excitement
Avid lust...
I knew it wasn't meant to be when my stomach remained constant as he continued on; It remained casual without giddy butterflies or the nervousness that tumbles towards attraction and love.
My lips did not reflect that beaming smile that never left his anxious face. That smile brings tears to my eyes, for I know that deep down he had all the false hope he could carry.
My mouth didn't utter words in similar context to his; nothing regarding agreement to those plans and emotions.
My poor heart betrayed itself simply by the seemingly innocent act of listening! Didn't I feel the deception as he was permitted to carry on, rambling for hours of dreams and wishes. My heart certainly acknowledged the falsities yet strained agianst truth for his sake.
Why did I do that to him? Why did I let him get so attatched...now he cries of where his place is, where can he go.
"Do you want my dog" he said...he loves his dog more than anything. I looked at Harlee and saw only him. If in truth he wanted the dog no longer, I would never recover or be stable agian. All I would see, or hear was him.
"I don't want anything anymore..." His heart fell into my hands and I stared at the pathetic sight of his melt down. What else could I do but placate myself and keep going? I'll always end up in the same place:
While he repeats what the future will be like for us, my eyes will feel the compelling urge to venture elsewhere. Far away from his burdens, and desperate love- and the farthest away from him.


*Forever I will have love, and lament in his honor. I have strayed him away from life, and all of the apologies I have could never amount to anything considering all I've done...I'm a horrible person for leading him on in hopes that I'll come around to him. I'm ashamed to no end and this I will remember every day*

Im so bored; rocking back and forth in this leather computer chair is my only amusement. Nothing to do but stare out the window to see pouring rain; hearing boistrous thunder.
The thunder storm outside looks appealing...
You know work fucking sucks when you'd rather be caught in a rain storm than lounging in a warm, dry office.

Don't laugh, and definatly do not make the false assumption that I'm a horny young lady, but...
For some reason the only thing I have been thinking about is sex. I don't mean fantasizing about my hot neighbor across the street, who by chance does our yard work. I'm talking about the constant re-playing of the one specific time. The first Time. Not a detail, word, or move got past my memory...
Maybe this is what the girls warned me about...Being the last virgin of my friends- I heard endless speeches of how "I'd dwell obsessively" and "It was over-rated" (yeah right ladies) or "Not worth the emotional pain" (So true...) But I did it anyways with someone I believed to love...
As with many cliche "first times", mine was just as unsuccessful as the stereotypical depictions of the night. Oh yes, it was the after-prom-hotel-room-sitcom/movie type ordeal. I'm so ridiculous...I look back into that night everyday, and why shouldn't I? It wasn't too long ago, not even a year since I was "De-flowered".
It's not so much the night and how it happened, it's more of the morning after. Unfortunately I can vividly recall all of those feeling and wishes I had lying there awake while he slept the morning away...

By far, it was the longest night's sleep
No dreams, only interruptions. Never before in my life had I slept naked, let alone with company. I had tossed and turned- eyed the clothing tossed carelessly on the floor and stared back at my bare skin. I was putting two and two together in my mind;Imagining I had gotten up and put all my clothes on- Walking towards the door I saw myself look back at him without care of my leave.
I came back to reality from the ruffling of covers on the other side...i saw his dark shadow and I dared not to rouse him.
I remember wanting to go back into the warm embrace in which I fell asleep, yet I struggled with myself to inch farther away from those reaching shadows.
"Why am I waking now?", I thought to myself.
With the sun's early dawn...? Perhaps it is my heart's way of punishment- that even as I closed my eyes, the bitterness felt within my heart was too strong to allow a night's rest with ease. She throbbed with resentment;And drummed out an evident wake up call so that I might be stricken with the shame and dishonor that eats away the core of the heart...
OR...
I awaken at this ludacris hour simply from the new day's brilliant call-
Which served as a comforting reminder to draw my attention to its fresh beginning; promising earnestly a clean slate and sympathetically reasurring that there's no need to hide beneath those unfamiliar sheets.
I looked around rising my drowsy head barely an inch- not thinking about turning towards the sleeping shadws behind my back. I felt as though I had rested a lifetime and wanted to get up- though I was too disturbed in the mind to get up. My eyes were drawn to the window's expansive appearance, and upon seeing the parking lot three stories below, my waking memory was triggered.
It happened, just like they said:
"He'll appease you up until it's over"
"Pay no mind to the sweet talking, he'll fall asleep right after!"
Painful surges of guilt mixed with remorse shot through my body. I ached inside from the beatings of reality:
I didn't lie with loving company.
And I was losing a lot by simply sleeping in that bed. Numbness and apathy were all that encumbered my body...without any excitement I looked at the creeping cars below, driving slowly for a parking spot, they seemed so distant that it provoked my internal sadness. I saw many faces walking in and out of that very building in which I felt trapped in. It's sad, but I remember seeing a woman with a large suitcase...upon seeing its voluminous size, I wished and envisioned myself inside of it. I thought hard on that pathetic notion and felt the certainty that i could fit in there and travel far away from those dark shadows beside me.
I didn't understand the mindless demeanors compared to mine so tragic. I stared at them with pure disgust. Anger violently shot my body upwards, as if awakening from a nightmare.
How was it possible that those people, similair to me, were out there living so comfortably, while I was naked under itchy blankets freezing to death by the occasional brush of his cold, deceitful skin.
Though I was viewing from afar, I could see the joy in their expressions distinctively. They were happy? And I wasn't...?
Is it fair that they could walk back and forth so near to that window, yet still be so oblivious to me on the other side. Were they so fucking blind that the obvious disrepute lying just hundreds of feet away was practically non-existent? How could they be so close, and not hear the loud, screaming emotions above?
I wished I was outside,
With all of them living so foolishly carefree.
I wanted to be anywhere but in that bed,
With those waking shadows touching my back, and whispering my name.

Sadly I remember the drive,
From a considerable amount of innocence-
to experience and adulthood behind closed doors.
I recall being cold-
His letterman's jacket over my shivering body
didn't help the slightest.
My seat was laid back holding my stretched out body that
rested nervously from the truck's dull vibration.
From my peripheral vision, there he sat-
So immediate and firm; driving silent in his features-in his demeanor...
But not in his mind I'm sure. I imagine it was loud with thoughts of what he was to gain, what he was driving towards to receive from me.
Then his thoughts lessened in volume when pondering what I'd lose; everything given up for a cause unknown. I think he was almost ashamed-
comparing his ideas to mine. Considering the difference in our purposes, the internal guilt he tried to hide might normally push a respectable man's head down in shame- instead he layed his corrupting hands down on mine and pretended to hold them in sencerity.
I remember looking up at the trees passing our windows
Engulfing us from both sides; they moved too quickly for my liking.
Each branch came and went as though they didn't care what was left behind...
Leaves smacking the windsheild hard, leaving a trace of what could never be kept held down...reminded me far too much of him.
Then I gazed in satisfaction at the stars. They remained comfortingly still; even as we moved briskly they did not-
Faithfully they stuck around for my conveinance, so that I might feel at ease by their consistancy. It was almost a sign, that those were the only truth of the night, and I could rely on them till the night was over.
I wished honestly upon everyone of those stars...
Wished for a profound, deep love from only him-
affection and devotion so apparent that the idea of loss was unimaginable.
I wished realistically after that:
For the night to quickly; for the undying strength, along with ignorance- so that I might be able to fool myself into believing it's nothing
Or that I can give it all to whom ever without a second thought.
I wished the longest for Monday morning to arrive, and my mind would be blank; I'd be stricken with memory loss and no recollection of the previous weekend.
But those stars were no help or consolation to my desperate wishes and pleas-
The memories are laid out across the sky- lingering between the clouds, shaping my guilt and wishes as the wind blows by.
In the pages of my books- spelled out boldly in the text, telling the story of what I try to hide.
The images are sprayed across my shower walls- within the stinging drops that fall onto the reflecting tile.
That night is conveinantly everywhere for my suffering eyes to see-
Behind every corner ready to flaunt and ridicule at any chance...
How impossible it is to let go...

I can't randomly kiss guys the way i used to...
It used to be my goal, the inspiration for me to look good! kissing guys was the only reason for striking outfits; glossy, pursing lips;and all my hours put in the gym.
I can remember a time when me, my sister, and the rest of the girls would get ready for parties:
Laughing in front of the mirror, my sister painted everyone's eyes black and I curled so much hair i was always too sick of it to do my own.
A. was the most interestingly dressed girl out of us... she let it all hang out and left nothing to the imagination.
My sister was famous for tight jeans hugging her curvy hips and allowing her irresistable love handles to spill over the top of her pants for anyone. The sides of her were like magnets to guy's hands...anyone passing by would grab those while saying a simple hello. Even the girls pinched and tugged them with giddy laughs...
I was the more conservative one, i wore my black framed glasses with any outfit, and it worked for me every time.
Guys told me that i was intriguing...they said i showed sex appeal, but not the way all my friends did.
The knee length skirt was innocent; but the slit halfway up my thigh was sexy yet not too provacative
My long sleeve, button down dress shirts were classy; yet i chose the color white to accent what i had been blessed with.
I didn't need a low cut shirt or miles of bare skin showing to attract them...i chose the more suddle way.

All of us were named "The Beer Bitches"...never going to the party alone; always the same group. We had fun and didnt care, yet always trying to drive to further parties looking for more friendly people. the usual crowd at our school was killing us...
One word that sums up everything within all four of my high school party years:
FAKE.
fake smiles, friendships, promises, boyfriends...Even our lies were fake. Nobody was being themselves...friends were uptight and held their act even in front of their friends. Parties were a group of kids trying to act cool so nobody made fun of them. The guys said "stupid bitch" even when they may have wanted to say "I dont care what anyone thinks, i like you". The girls played hard to get to the extreme; pushing good guys away when that wasnt what they wanted.

The Guys had an interesting way of speaking to their "friends" while in public places...
"What up bitches?!"
"Where's my fucking beer?!"
We hung out and hooked up, but rarely was there any close friendships that were true. A select few from that crowd could be counted on to be there, and not take advantage of a situation...but it was usually away from the others.

Anyways, we had a list of guys we wanted to make out with that night and made it a point to hit every name on it.
We had our beer bong named Betty and she helped me feel less shy when approaching, or being approached by a guy.
I always had the Jerks on my list...the ones that i believed i could change and could make them settle down with me.
"Sarah- brent won't ever settle down...hes a player"
"No you guys don't understand what he told me..."
"The same thing he told Ashley last week!"
I paid for it in the long run, but with everything else, i got over it after a month... or four...
Blindly i keep involving myself with an asshole for weeks and kept distressing myself over what i wasn't doing right. Honestly it was me who was in the wrong- my expectations compared to anothers were totally different.
The main reason why i stopped all that hooking up "fun" was primarily because I realized after getting hurt that i wasnt looking for fun. Kissing made me feel close to someone and i felt like after that night there had to be more.
More phone calls
More dates
More sencere words of "truth"...
I never got my phone calls the next day...my dates turned out to be just invites to a party, and nothing that was said to me was true. Winning with this group of guys was impossible, and my naive heart figured that out too long after the tears and regrets.
It was a bottomless game and everytime i wished i could just land hard to end it all...I would fall into another guy's arms wishing they'd never leave me like the last one, and this one might be different.