For a friend. We have all been that girl before and probably will be again. Just don't give up before you have a chance to experience it. It's life. It sucks. Feel it all. It's all a story. :)

We are the ones who stay up so many nights, studying the backs of our hands.
We search for something we may have missed, we try to understand.
We are the ones who pull out our hair, throw pictures down the hall.
We are the ones with no warning, no preparation, not a single clue, none at all.
We are the ones who stand in front of the mirror and pick ourselves apart.
We are the ones, who are fragile,

We are girls with broken hearts.

We walk among you, everyday, you hardly know we're there.
We smile and wave and go about our day, while inside we are hollow and bare.
It isn't that we want attention or need you to sympathize,
It's just that we are sick of ourselves and embarrassed of our lives.
How could we let this happen? How did we let someone so close?
How is it even possible to be alive but live as a ghost?
When did we become so pathetic? We know this isn't us.
We shield ourselves with walls we've built because we are afraid to trust.

We are the girls with broken hearts.
We hide behind smiles and laughs.
We have seen storms and the darkest of days.
But we know, this too shall pass.

Hmm.

-I had trouble finishing this one, but now that I look at it, the relationship it's about wasn't worth finishing either. :)

Sometimes when I'm alone, my thoughts come flying at me with such velocity that I find myself teetering on the edge of what's wrong, and what's right for me.
Filling my lungs with smoke and thinking of your tongue and how it spoke to someone who was better than me.
Your hands sliding down her spine, and how just days before they were interlocked with mine.
How could you waste our time with line, after line, after line, after line?
And when I leave you want me back and here I am every time.
Once you've had your fun and you realize she's not the one, you call me with some bull shit about how you're done.
You've changed your ways
And want to spend your days
with me.
In your bed,
Messing around with my body and my head.

Twang.

-This was written about the same guy I always write about. I tried to write about him a million times, but it all came out way too sappy. This is written in a gritty, old, country kind of way... Which is silly, and stupid, and making light of a hard situation. Which was way more our style. :) So read this in a southern accent, the more exaggerated the better, and feel free to laugh at some serious shit.


Come on in, gather round, and I'll tell you the story bout when I left town.
Me and Mady, that was my best friend, had the house to ourselves and a whole weeked
To do what we want and drink what we please,
only problem was, we only had a buck o three.
So Mady called her dude, who said he had a pal
Who had a case of beer and a pack of pal mals.
But he said he wouldn't show if there weren't no girls
we didn't know any but we gave it a whirl.
We called every gal we'd ever known, said "party at our place!"
And wouldn't you know,
A bunch of painted up skanks and a couple dumb hos
rolled up to the house with some wine and cigarettes
short mini skirts and black fishnets.
It wasn't long before the boys walked in,
and how I wish I knew now, what I didn't know then.
He was at least six three and about a buck ten
With skull tattoos and a wicked grin.
He walked right in and gave me a beer,
Said, "My name's Nathan and I'm new around here."
I looked around at the pretty dumb girls,
spillin thier drinks and twisting their curls.
Thought there's no way he's gonna want me,
short, and fat, and chuggin on whiskey.
But boy was I wrong, dead wrong in fact,
because later that night, I was on my back.
Get your head out the gutter, I aint no floozy.
But I did lay in the grass and let him kiss me.
And let me tell you, what a mistake that was
because before I knew it,
we were in love.
Like I loved him, and he loved me
and we both had a likin for gettin high and gypsies.
So we put our interests to work and packed a bag
set our sights for California and our drug dealers pad.
We started walkin and I stuck out a thumb
and it wasn't long before we were long gone.
Sleepin in parks, buildin fires on the beach, smokin dope, and livin free.
He told me stories of where we'd go
about Las Angelos and San Francisco.
It was in a doorway, a quarter past three,
cuddeled up on the Haight and Ashbury concrete,
when he looked in my eyes and said the words
that would completely change my universe.
Said, "I love you girl, more than you know." and I knew that wherever he went, I was gonna follow.
Sometime later, we made it up north to his grandmas pad in a trailor park.
It was Christmas time, and his mama hated me
So she bought me a ticket for a train headed out at three.
I kissed Nathan goodbye, and he promised me,
That no distance could hold him and he'd be back for me.
He said he'd be back by the first, to be my new years kiss.
But what year he meant must have been the part I missed.
I watched the seasons roll by, without so much as a call to say, "Hi."
It would be two years 'for I saw him again,
Just as beautiful and strung out on Heroin.
He said he wouldn't leave, and if he did,
I wouldn't have to worry unless his guitar went with him.
I tried to save him, I helped him fight, but after eight days he left in the night.
I checked the room, and he was gone,
He took his guitar but left me this song.
So to all you girls who think love conquers all? Don't fall for a boy who smokes Pal Mals.

Alice.

I took a walk to clear my head and it suddenly starts raining.
"Of course!" I say, a little too loud and a woman hears me complaining.
She has ghost whit hair, leather skin, and a cigarette in her hand.
She says, "Tell me your troubles, sweet heart, and I'll try to understand."
I shelter myself under the cover of her interest in me and instantly forget the rain.
Then I pour out all my misery, thoughts, and my pain.
All the boys that broke my heart, the girls I wish I was, how all I ever wanted, really, was an ounce of my mothers love.
The woman listened quietly, just puff, puff, puffing away, and when I finally stopped for breath,
This is what she had to say:
"You're problem is, girly, you need a man not a boy; A strong and able lover who won't treat you like a toy.
And those girls aint got nothin, that you yourself don't have.
Except those cruel and little boys, and for that you should be glad.
So next time you see a guy, that's put you through sadness,
wink at the girl he's with and thank her for sparing you that mess."
With that the old woman smiled, and stared up at the rain.
She said, "Me and my mama never got along either but I'd give my new hip to see her again."
I thought for a minute and felt a little dumb for being so naive.
The woman must have sensed my strife and left this with me:
"Little lady, we all have had our share of pain, but the last thing you should ever do is blame it on the rain."

This might be the Vodka talking but, I want more vodka.

There is no way to describe how fucking much I miss you every single day. 

When something goes wrong and I can't handle it, I know you would know what to do. 

It's stupid, but I think of when I was young and reading Lord of the Rings and it was a really suspenseful part, and I was sure Frodo was done for, I felt a rush of calm if Gandalf was there because I knew that he would figure it out. Nothing bad could REALLY happen because he knew what to do.  That is what having you in my life felt like.
No matter how  bad it got, you could always come up with something to make it right, or at least take my mind off it.
Fuck. If I can't have you back, the only thing I want more is to stop wanting you so much.
Love is a fucking disease. 

Old E out of a wine glass. That's all the warning you get.

When people ask me, "Hey Deav, how's the job search going?!" I feel like punching them in the throat, because I know that question really means, "Why don't you have a job yet asshole?" A job search can't be going any way but badly unless I indeed have found employment, in which case it wouldn't be a search anymore would it? If you are looking for something and aren't finding it, that means until the item is found, it isn't going well. UNLESS the item you are looking for has left you clues and things that are leading you straight to it, I guess that could be considered a relatively good search. Productive. Promising.
 So just for the sake of making things easy for you condescending meanies, the job search is going quite terribly. Would you like to know why? BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A JOB YET AND EMPLOYERS AREN'T REALLY LEAVING ME ANY GOD DAMN BREAD CRUMBS TO FIND ONE EITHER.
I am doing everything right. I have updated my resume, I write individual cover letters for every job, and I apply everywhere... Every day. I even applied to a couple labor jobs on Craigs List and then a job at Auto Zone. AUTO ZONE. I can't even drive a car.
It all comes down to one simple fact, and don't tell my mom I said this but, I feel like I would be having a much easier time if I would have stayed in school and then went to college right away. YES I did very well at PYB and YES I got my GED, but I was 20 when I graduated and then worked instead of going to school.
I need skills. I need a degree. I need to do what I really want. I applied for a job I know I am not going to get and I think I did it just because I know that's what I want, and I always work much harder for something someone tells me I can't do. I am just a defiant hardass that way.

NOW, in other news, I am still single which is great and I have been avoiding my ex like the plague which in the past I haven't been able to do and ended up back with him and all his unfaithfulness and spite. I made a pact with myself, like every newly scorned woman does, to not pursue any relationships, and just be alone for awhile, and wouldn't you know it? An old flame comes a blazin into my life out of nowhere and makes me forget all my sanity.
BUT I will have you know that I have controlled my emotions the best I can and have not jumped into any kind of rebound with this person at all. I have my moments where I want to maybe make things happen, but truth is? I just don't trust anyone. Relationships especially. What am I saying? MEN especially.
I am perfectly aware that is extremely stereotypical and I am sure there is a romantic comedy out there somewhere with a plot line like this that ends with the quirky, jaded, love hating, sexually independent girl falls for the Ben Afflek-esque male lead with a heart of gold who just REALLY loves her. But I am not going to be anyone's god damn Zoey Deschanell and the guy I am referring too is definitely not my Ben Affleck. 

SO. Long story short? I am not looking for anything on any sort of serious level that will put me in a situation where I will get hurt again. Besides, I like this guy, and I know that if I was to get involved with him I would become clingy, jealous, suspicious, hot, cold, and weird like I always do and blow it. 

So I guess I will just hang out and see where this dick head of a life takes me. Hopefully there is fiscal stability somewhere in my future. 

Watermelon Hearts...

  Holding onto hope that I am as delusional as people say I am. 

 

 This could be something pretty great if I don't fuck it up like I do everything else good in my life. 

Sometimes you fall, spinning through space, grasping for the things that keep you on this earth. Sometimes you catch them. They can be the hands of the people you love. They can be your pets- pups with funny names, cats with ferocious old souls. The thing that keeps you here can be your art. It can be things you have collected and invested with a certain sense of meaning. A flowered, buckled treasure chest of secrets. Shoes that make you taller and, therefore, closer to the heavens. A suit that belonged to your fairy godmother. A dress that makes you feel a little like the Goddess herself. 

Sometimes you keep falling; you don't catch anything. 

Sometimes you fall, spinning through space, grasping for the things that keep you here. Sometimes you catch them. Sometimes you don't. 

Sometimes they catch you.

What shall we do, all of us? All of us passionate girls who fear crushing the boys we love with our mouths like caverns of teeth, our mushrooming brains, our watermelon hearts?