missrenie: (Default)

You were Pan and all of his Lost Boy.
You believed you could fly and I longed for you to.

You were Nibs
debonair and charismatic wanting to provide even though you were incapable of it
You were Slightly
living in lies you believed to be true, creating songs that only you could hear while begging me to dance with you
You were Curly
my troublesome and forgetful boy but always so so endearing
You were my Twins
knowing nothing about yourself but professing everything

You were also my Tootles.
Who mistook me for something else.
Who shot me down and almost killed me when I tried to fly

You were my Peter Pan, unable to love me the way an adult should.
I was your Wendy, constantly reattaching your shadow.
You exhausted me, wore me out, broke me down while trying to rescue me from a Captian Hook that you created.
The Dreams of Neverland turned to the Dark of Nightmares

When I left you followed me
And at first I loved it

You coming through my window bringing with you all the dreams of a unknowingly selfish heartless innocence. Sprinkling fairy dust over my head and saying that we would fly. But my feet no longer want to leave the ground with you. Every time I leapt off of the edge I realized that that dust was just the remnants of shattered dreams and that the only thing that keep me suspended in the air was the noose you tied around my neck. That and these wings I've constructed on my own.

You were taping at my window last night

Tap
Tap
Tap

But I would not let you in.
Wendy doesn’t live here any more
I do

It's the worst thing I’ve done to you
And it's the best thing I’ve done for myself



Betraying you by growing up

missrenie: (Default)
So Melo and I went to the beach and I brought my fender and she brought her congo.  It was a beautiful hot as hell day and with her encouragement we made this recording of a song that I wrote I think I sound nasally and the wind is blowing hard but I'm really glad we did it.
now I just need to figure out how to play the other nine songs I wrote :)

Thanks Melo!! xoxo




missrenie: (Default)

 

Friday afternoon finds me huddled on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, fighting off a horrendous sore throat and I crying pathetically over some lame ass lifetime like movie (which shall remain nameless for my own protection).
 

I'm sick from overworking, emotionally exhausted and as I look back on it I blame the bookshelves for turning me into this hot mess. Well I blame me but it started with those damn shelves.
 

I should explain
 


 

Last Sunday at  2 in the morning I am  toiling away at these bookshelves because if I don’t get it done it won’t get done.  Now this is not a new thought for me.  In my last relationship I knew/felt that if I didn’t do it wouldn’t get did.  But there was still that glimmer of hope.

Now I’m completely alone and well without that slim optimistic sliver of “maybe he’ll…” so its all me on hands and knees at two am finishing up the last of the tool-less shelves in coffee brown from Target’s home décor  when it happens…

I flip the page and the instructions have this little triangle.  Inside of the triangle are two little sexless block people almost holding hands.   An indication that this part is a two person job. Suggesting strongly that I would need help. 

I start to cry

I decide that this is a dangerous thing to do when wielding a hammer (tool-less my ass) so after 4 or 5 tears I suck it up, brace the damn things against the wall, maneuver my body into the closest things to a split its been in since second grade ballet and get her done.

For a brief moment sanity seductively flitters past me and whispers in my ear telling me to stop.  I have been up since 6:45am the previous day, I’ve done 5 hour long massages, run a ton of errands all over town which include getting these heavy shelves, carrying them from the store to the car and the car to the house solo. 

But I’ve been working on this “Reorganize the Room” project since 6pm (the previous day),I have a UU service to attend in the morning, work in the afternoon and dinner plans in the evening so I have to finish.
 

It became a call to arms
It became a challenge
And as neurotic as it sounds it became a fucked up analogy for my life.
 

It has to be done. It has to be done now.

No one is going to help me.  I have to do it alone. 

I have to do it perfectly.    My performance is a direct reflection of me

I am not going to pussy out. 

I am strong enough.

 

I finish around 3am with everything.  My room, my closet all neat and ocdly in order.  It’s perfect and beautiful.  My shelves, my fucking shelves with the things I worked so hard for on them.
 

I’m exhausted and half insane and I laugh myself to sleep...since I refuse to cry.
 

In the morning I’m beyond fucked.
My eye’s burn, my wrist is swollen my palm is giving out sharp radiating pain, my right knee is swearing eloquently in french.
I call off service, I call off work but I still try to limp around the house and do chores with my left hand disadvantage.  Since I can’t manage to lift more than 5 lbs with my right.

I blame the shelves ( and not me) all the way…. It’s a long day.  And at this point I am working just because my body doesn’t know what to do with itself or how to stop.  It’s a relief when 6pm comes around because I have to call a truce with myself to get ready for dinner.
 

He shows up. 

This guy.  A friend I have known for almost two years now and he takes me to dinner.  No strings attached, no expectations, just friends and it’s really nice.  And when he pulls up to my house I ask him inside to look to see my shelves cause I am so proud of them.
 

And he looks at them
       And says they are nice
And he looks at my wrist
       And asks why I didn’t ask him for help
 

“But the place was a mess.  I didn’t want you to see it like that”
But I’m a mess and I didn’t want you to see me like that
 
“I would have helped you Irene”

 

I look at him as Muddy waters I Just Wanna Make Love to You sings out from
the cd player on the bottom of one of the shelves in front of us.
 

I really look at him
I do want to make love to him.

For some reason I believe that this guy would have helped me build my shelves stat and he would have done it correctly.  It’s crazy…is the passing thought I have as tears form in my eyes .   This is insane I think as he holds me tightly against him and tells me to let go.  To just let go.  I cry and sob and apologize and swear as he holds the world still around me.  And that song on my shelf is singing into my soul
 

I just want to make love to you.
I just want to make love to you.

 

 

Now I’m fucked. 

Because as I lay there listening only to his heart beat, feeling his hand moving across my hair I looked over at my perfect shelves that I worked so hard on.  Then deeper still  I looked at my life and everything in it. 

And in that moment, and breath, and beat, held tight within his arms I realize with shocking, startling and paralyzing clarity  just how fucking tired I am, how completely and  utterly exhausted I am

 

 

 

of building it alone~
missrenie: (Default)

How could you?

Why would you do it?

Pursue me so boldly and then lack the courage to keep me.

 

I asked you three times to state your intentions towards me because I know me and you claimed to know me.  But I think you were wrong in your assessment of me, else you would not have erred so grossly.

Had you have truly known me you would have known that when I opened myself to you, when I wrapped my legs around your hips and took you inside of me that it was no mere physical thing.  That the hunger was deeper than carnal desires of flesh and bone.

You should have known that when I grabbed your hair and looked you in the eyes and said:

I want you

that I wanted You!

 

You who amidst the cover of night against the glow of my candles danced to the rhythm we created together

You who spoke so perfectly and sweetly, who called my name over and over as if I were some earth bound goddess.

You who held me in his arms as I cried out the grief of years of heart stabbing aching loneness

You who had the gall to look into my eyes as you lay over me, as you worked above, as you came.

 

I can’t believe you could be so utterly spineless and afraid and stupid enough to let me go.

 

I asked you what you intentions were to me and you answered then

And now, now after being with me, seeing me in a way in which I have not even shown my ex lover of nine years you tell me you don’t know

That you are not sure!

 

How could you?

Why would you?

You who watched me struggle, break myself, rebuild myself

You who waited so patiently for me to notice you

 

How could you mend my heart and break it so quickly?

Are you afraid of me?  Of this?

Did you feel more than you expected?

I would ask if you were such the talented actor that faked it and felt nothing at all. But your body didn’t lie.  Your breath and heartbeat, your embrace, the sound of my name on your lips, your low guttural moan, your loss of control so quickly, your body’s resounding answer to my own body’s plea.

 

Or could I be the stupid one here. 

Was everything perfect because you waited so long to say it, to do it to me?

Or was it perfect because you had done it before to someone else?

 

I guess that does not matter right now does it?

Because in my idiocy I refuse to believe that you lied to me, and I can see the struggle in your eyes when you look at me, but know this sir…

 

I am your perfect woman and like your perfect idea or your perfect cup of coffee I will not stay hot forever. 

I am all those things you said, sexy, beautiful, intelligent and frighteningly strong. I am also courageous and bold and oh so fucking worthy of one who is just the same.

 

I was

However

Horribly and grievously mistaken to believe you to be that person.

 

 

 

My patience ebbs

My adoration will wane

 

 

Your loss will be great.


missrenie: (Default)
 
Press play
then proceed
*
*
*
*
*

I thought I had gotten past it… that I wasn’t going to cry about it again.  But I heard this song and I was there

 

On that morning. 
I am so emotional. 
I am so searching for a sign. 
I am so wanting to stay.

I come into the room
lean over the bed and
kiss your forehead.

You blink the way you normally do in the mornings ...
with wide white unfocused eyes
brows furrowing.

You stretch your hands above your head
Hitt the wall behind you
you smile up at me.

You say good morning
I say good morning
even though I mouth goodbye

You say "I'm sleeping beauty"
and I say "You certainly are"

 

You get up and start your computer
You don’t see me look back at you
You don’t see the tears in my eyes

 

You don’t seem to notice
That this isn’t just another Saturday
That I’m not coming back today
You didn’t ask me to stay

 

It’s quiet

 

~~~
And it'll be just as quiet when I leave
As it was when I first got here
I don't expect anything
I don't expect anything
I don't expect anything to change when I leave
~~~~~




missrenie: (Default)
I'm temporarily in this place.
this fuck awful place in my head.

I'm coming down from my break-up high, moving high, i'm so fuckable high
I bi-passed solid ground
I slipped directly of the cliff  and into the pit.

I'm holding on though, bloody nails and all, screaming obscene curses at myself for wanting
just to be held
just for a little while

I wish I was stronger,
that this want to let go while someone holds on wasn't so dominating
I plunge myself into work, into working out... I've lost 12 pounds.  But this heavy pain is still there.


Nothing's gonna heal it save time
Shopping, eating, working, new relationships... those things are just temporary bandaids

It's gonna bleed through.

fucking sure as hell isn't gonna do the trick either
if the past two weeks have taught me anything
if the past six years have taught me anything

its that I'm so tiered of being fucked
and I'm so tiered of being fucked over

But despite all that, and everything I wrote I above it.  I know these three things.

I will heal.
I will be happy.
I will be whole.

I am determined to be so
I deserve to be so.

The list

Oct. 10th, 2008 11:20 am
missrenie: (Default)

You should write a list. 

 

I inform him without looking at him that I have no intention of writing down every bad thing that happened in my relationship.

 

I went back to typing.  A few moments had passed before I realized that he had not replied to my remark, nor had he moved.  He just stood there looking at me.  I turned my chair to face him and I looked up him with what I imagined to be defiance. 

He stared back at me with all the annoying impassivism of a vulcan but when he spoke it was low, thoughtful and without condescension.

 

You should write a list.

-I don’t want to

I understand it hurts. But when you see him again.  And you are going to see him again.  You may do something…

-Stupid?

Less intelligent than your norm

-Stupid… like forget everything that happened between us and go to bed with him, get involved again.

Less intelligent than your norm…  You’re a wonderful woman and any man would be a fool to mess up with you.  He doesn’t deserve you. 

-That’s a nice thing to say.  But I’ve done things wrong too you know.  You only know my side of it... I’m not as wonderful and deserving as you think I am.

I’ve been where you are right now. Write the list. 

 

The whole time he had never raised his voice.  And while I could barely look at him he had never taken his eyes off of me.  I felt naked, I felt weak, I felt guilty, I felt undeserving, I felt embarrassed.  I felt like an idiot.
Partially because I was defending, holding on to, believing in a relationship that almost left me ruined.
Partially because it was unrealistically dramatic,  unsettlingly romantic and uncomfortably exposing  to be talking to him like this.
When I was able to face him directly the impassive mask was gone.  And in its place was a look of genuine concern and I knew what it was like to be completely disarmed and alarmed at the same time.

He wasn’t being nice
He wasn't being sweet
He wasn't trying to collect on a rebound

He was being honest

 

I wrote the list
It took over two weeks
It was an ugly ordeal
In the end I had to rip out half my heart  in order to drag myself from this river of denial I had been drowning in. 

I’m not used to the air yet and while it’s still hard to breathe sometimes…

                                                                      its no where near as hard as it used to be.


 


missrenie: (Default)

I want to ask you to come up.  I want you to spend the night with me.
and I really wanted to too.
But it wouldn't be fair.  I'm leaving in the morning.  The issues can't be solved from here.  So I have to go back for a while. 

-Oh so that's why you took me to dinner... trying to soften the blow.  How sweet.

Well things do go down better with chocolate.  And I wanted to leave on  good terms with you because when I return I hope... I would like to... continue with you.  With this...

-What is this?

I have no idea... do you?

-No

I wasn't expecting you.

-I wasn't expecting you either.

I was partially expecting to be seduced and then beaten up by three of your hidden assoiciates while you all stole my stuff

-I was partially expecting to be raped, beaten and left in some gutter.

It was foolish of us.

-Yes... we are extremly lucky individuals.  You looked like you wanted to say something but you didn't  you just held my hands.  The elevator chimed.  The doors opened.  There's your ride. You kissed me.  Hard, hungry, not caring who saw, exactly the way I like it.  I felt 16 again.

Any parting words.  You whispered as you pressed your forehead against mine.

-So long... and thanks for all the bliss

I could feel you laugh. 
Thanks for all the bliss huh?

-Yeah, that and you've missed your elevator.

It'll be back.  You press the  little button and it pops open again.  You step out of my arms.  You step inside.  And as the doors close you say what I really wish you hadn't    I'll be back too.

I give you a half smile and poke my tongue out at you childlishly.  I wait for the doors to close for them to carry you to your floor.  Your laughter is still ringing in my ears when I whisper into empty space what I really wanted to say to you


I hope.


But even if you're not back... even if it turns out that this was just a shared moment of insanity.
And last night was really, truly a  goodbye a so long....

Thanks
for all the bliss.


 

missrenie: (Default)

 

It's easy to write about myself. 

Just myself.

It's therapy.

At one point in my life I went crazy from keeping too many secrets...

I don't want to have secrets. 

 

Secrets turn to lies and headaches so I just get it all out.  I live head deep in exhibitionism because if anyone likes me I want it to be for me.  With every flaw, for every ill shaped notion, for every crude word and weakness.  I do this because while I love acting I hate pretending.  I hate people pretending to be something they are not.  You get close to them and find out that they are someone completely different.  I don't want to do go through that.  So I don't do it. 

 

I live out loud.

I don't have secrets… I have the occasional delusion but I don't have secrets.

Just myself

 

It's easy to write about myself.

But I can't write this without writing about you.  So I will write it to you.  Even though we've already had this conversation months ago.  I will write it to you. And if you read this… when you read this I hope you forgive me. Just like you've forgiven every flaw, every ill shaped notion, every crude word and weakness. 

 

 It's been heaven, it's been hell.  It's been wonderful, it's been a war and there are casualties on both sides.  I need space and time and healing. 

 

You're beautiful to me… did you know that?  Did I tell you often enough? 

I love you even though I am leaving.  I really truly deeply do.  I think I always will.

 

We laugh now…easily.  Did you notice?  Ever since we talked and agreed not to emo out about this.  We agreed that since there is not enough space on the cross for both of us neither of us was allowed to go up there.  Cause it wasn't fair. 

 

What we've done to ourselves wasn't fair

What we've done to eachother wasn't fair

 

You know what else isn't fair... having to explain this to your mom.  To our other friends, to our family.  Sitting there as they shake their heads and say "I told you so" or "What a shame... we really thought you two would make it" or "You should have married eachother sooner and then you would not be going through this" or "Whose to blame?" and the worst one...the absolute worst fucking one. "Don't you love each other any more?"

 

But between you and me...

Are you excited?

Are you terrified?

Are you sad?

 

I am.

Excited about my own place, my own stuff, finally dear goddess MY OWN

 

Terrified about going it alone, stepping away from the ledge, letting go of the edge and trying to swim, daring to fly without your hand in mine, without your voice in my ear, without the safety of your net.

 

Sad because if I change too much if you change too much,   you or me or we may not want us anymore…

 

I dread the conversations we haven't even had yet.  In the future.  A year or two from now.  If you pass me by with someone on your arm and wave at me and smile that sweet smile as you introduce us to each other.  Would I blush and stutter, would I compare myself to her, would I be insanely jealous or genuinely happy… would I have someone too?

 

 

I don't blame you… well not anymore

I hope you don't blame me.

 

This is an ending

This is an beginning

We bring this chapter to us to a close

And we open a new book on ourselves.

 

maybe

one day

we can be a part of each other's story.
missrenie: (Default)



Something was said to me
and I can not get it out of my head:
_____That's okay life is shit for everyone right now
me: No it's not
_____Life is shit for everybody
me: Not for Terick and I... life is not shit for everyone
_____Yes it is, you can shine or shalack it But it's still shit.

And _____ stared at me as if challenging me. And _____ was. Because my view on life directly challenged _____'s. For _____life is shit and _____expects it to be. I'm not sure _____wants it to be. But _____ expects it to be. For me to say that it was not means that _____is wrong and has been wrong. It attacks one of _____'s strongest core beliefs. It attacks _____. All this time I thought I was helping _____by being honest about my opinions, by demanding to know why _____ lets people treat _____like crap, why _____ allows it, telling _____that _____deserves better... I began to show by example. I began being positive, open, exercising, eating right (most of the time anyway) and even when life gave me shit I used it as fertilizer for my garden.

I saw _____ clearly and for the first time after that. And what I saw made me so sad. Because that was me a year or so ago. And I really don't have enough energy to go where _____ is back into the realm of dark self fulfilling prophesies. I'm not willing to go to hell for _____ . And that is where I am selfish and where I have been selfish for the past few month. I just don't have the energy. But I have learned from this. And I choose to take that with me... instead of the hurt.

Maybe nothing I could do would have saved the relationship because we are so different now.
_____is used to being unhappy. Used to life being the smell, the feel , the consistency of shit.
I am used to being happy. I finally got used to the smell, the feel, the touch of heaven
maybe
I hope
one day
______will be too.

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