Raining and Pouring

The weather was gray and storming, completely matching my face.
I had lost something I had been holding on to.
Well, more clinging to than holding on.
Deserving nothing more than a repeated email.
Copy, paste, send.
I felt like an idiot for not letting go the first time.
My bike got a flat tire, over a mile from home.
My face collided with a sign, nearly breaking my nose.
Frustrated, hopless, fucking angry.
When it rains, it really does pour.
Good thing it masks your crying.
I keep telling myself to let go, let go.
It is always followed by, we will never know, never ever know.

Attached to evidence of memories.

As I pack away my life into boxes that I will just unpack next week, I am realizing more and more how attached I am to these material things. I combine everything with memories and I am terrified that getting rid of them will force/allow me to get rid of the memories. I save everything in boxes that I never look in. I surround myself in the clutter of things that came from a moment when I was smiling or maybe even crying. A bag of half eaten M & Ms, a broken shot glass, scraps of paper, all useless, garbage, but all things I have a hard time parting with. Sitting here staring at it, sticking out of the trash can I feel guilty.
I know I wont forget most of these memories, I just need to write them down more often.
I'm also having a difficult time trying to figure out exactly how I want to live. I want these things, but I also want nothing. I want to keep those shoes for that outfit, but I also want to live with just one pair of shoes. I want to keep that dress for that day when I get asked out on that date, but it has sat in my closet, with tags sticking out like a reminder for nearly two years now.
I wish I could just leave it all behind. Just go. With my back pack and my bicycle. I probably wouldn't miss it once I was gone.

Pity this fool.

Freehand embroidered on white velvet, complete with gold wire and beads and a gold spray painted frame.

Royal pain in the ass.
Happy Birthday, Fool.

I woke up with a bloody nose...

and all I could think about were those times I woke up to find my mom with a bloody nose....

You gotta feel it.

Tonight is one of those nights where I keep feeling like something is missing.
I know it's one of those things that I won't find, no matter where I look.
It is not in my closet or under my bed, it isn't between the lines in the book I am trying to read.
It isn't in the fridge or our cupboards, it is not in the messages I have read or listened to a hundred times.
It may be deep inside this little body of mine or maybe a few thousand miles away.
What if it is hiding from me? What if it has disguised itself as something else? Maybe it is looking for me. What if it is just waiting for me?
I can't hold still and my mind is racing, it wants to make decisions that will just have to wait.

Maybe I just need to go dancing, I haven't done that in a while...

Zine Machine

I went to the Portland Zine Symposium last weekend.
I had no idea what to write a zine on.
I don't think of myself as a writer.
I made a short book, really, it was just a few drawn pictures with some short text.
I based it off of the questions people ask themselves.
Education, religion, money, love, sexuality, time, those type-a things.
I was pretty happy with it, I thought it was very me.
After going to the Symposium and seeing everyones, it looks like shit, but that will just push me to do better next time.

Comfortably Unhappy

It seems there is a time coming that I am not ready for.
It looks like growing up and moving on is a blink away.

I am not sure when the time comes that you have to stop counting on other people.
I feel like that time was always there.
I can be independent.

Sometimes you just end up in a comfortable situation and forget.
It is no ones fault. It is all circumstance.
Comfort stops people from doing a lot.

Your job sucks, but its comfortable, so you don't look for another.

You have friends who suck the life out of you, but hey, friends are comfortable, so you keep them.

These socks have so many holes, but they are the most comfortable, I wear them.

A relationship may not be right, but it is comfortable, so you stay.

The couch is just so comfortable, so you don't get up.

Reno is comfortable, so I haven't left.

It is difficult to know you need change but not know what it is or how to get there.
It is too scary to even start.
What is already known is routine and stable.

Being comfortably unhappy just seems too easy.