It gets better.

Today I woke up in our apartment. The silence was comfortable. Finally. The walls are covered with posters from concerts, artwork I've picked up on our trips together, collectibles scattered on shelves and photos of our family above the TV. I was alone, but not empty. The house is littered with toys and every surface covered with stickers of Elmo and Big Bird, princesses and dinosaurs. I walked around for a little, went to the bathroom. Thought for a little, then went back to bed. My toddler just came back from spending 4 days at grandma's and going to The Keys. This was the first winter I've made it completely through without feeling like the world is ending. I have things to look forward to, and life, though really scary and overwhelming at times, feels worth living. Soon my kid and husband will come home, after a breakfast date. Life really does get better. 

 kk: "{''''''''''''''''''''n gm i866thjut 5222222222m V, Age 2.

a note

You found a note.

Manically scribbled on a 3-by-5 card, in pen, spelling out my anxieties and my contempt for your bad habits and my shortcomings, my predisposition for running away from adversity and conflict, my fears of what our future would hold. Months ago, I planned on leaving it out casually for you to find, because I did not have the courage to face you myself and repeat those same words.

For fear of losing you. For fear of losing myself. For fear that having that talk and making it come true. Because, as long as it lived on that paper, it would only exist in its own realm. You found it today, while cleaning the room. I am glad I was not there to see it. You placed it back where you found it, and it sits in that drawer, poor Schrodinger's note.

Part of me hopes the emotion behind it gleams between the lines, bright enough to be heard and understood. It was a part of me then that I needed to release. It still carries weight but no longer its validity.

We are both different people now.

part two

I'm becoming convinced that love is illness.

Sometimes I am disgusted with myself for the person I am, the voice in me tells me I'm not good enough for this, that one day I will ruin this all somehow, or that he'll realize that there are better people in this world than myself. Being in love is fear of losing him, and therefore losing myself if he's gone before I am. This sickness is irrational and vulnerable and makes love terrifying. But I want it. I want it more than anything. I worry and wonder and do things that make me think I'm the biggest burden to exist.

And yet somehow he still loves me. Regardless of whether or I'm not actually ill, that inner voice tells me he must be crazy to love me.

I cannot sleep; later today I will take care of him as he's come down with a cold, the weakest I've seen him in a while. He never gets sick, so to see him like this worries me. Being in love is being ill and trusting they'll know what to do to make you better.

word mouth vomit

I keep dreaming of all the different ways I can attend my own funeral. I keep dreaming, over and over, all the ways in which the world ends. Sometimes the Earth dies. Sometimes the people in it die. I think I'm onto something. One time, this man came into my workplace and told me he was a prophet. Maybe he was sick, and therefore I'm sick. But despite this, I believe we can all be prophets in our own way, either of the future of the whole or of our own selves.

I'm thinking about quitting. My life is static and meaningless and yet being with the love of my life, who could easily have been another dulled and meaningless worker who had a prophet (myself) come into his workplace and change his life, yes, even if it is that, my life is not all that awful when he is around. Through him I've changed my form and discovered the several miniature deaths that come, the killing of the ego, as they call it, the end of a moment and the oh- oh- oh - oh I can't believe I've learned to love through life and death. I am still here, this is still me. I am more me than I have been up until this point in time, and in those moments I am not even myself, I am we.

I won't do it. I'm a coward and hesitant and comfortable. There's a storm that surges through my body and with every shock to the spine and the brain, I move in the same place I started in.

Those parts will shatter.

part one

Being in love is weird.

I've always thought I'd understand it. I've considered myself to have been in love a few times, but always when it falls out, I question if I had ever been in love at all.

But everything is love now. Because of loving you, I love everything more now. Everything I've been through to get me here, has brought me to you. Every success, every lesson, every failure, every tragedy. My mind couldn't conceive something as beautiful as what we were to become.

I have a blank canvas in front of me now, and yet all the paints I own could never portray the feelings you give me when you call me by name. When you spend your time kissing every inch of my skin, there's a stage in my head and it's you and I, front and center. Holding hands. It's a light show in my heart.

Being in love is insanity, and yet everything makes sense.

Rhythm

Tumblr has been enough for a while, but I remembered I have this. I haven't reread any of my old posts since the last time I posted on here, but I probably will soon. Not yet, though. I was working two jobs for a while, got fired for reasons I found unfair. I was unprepared, but at least I was able to work there in the first place. That's all I needed.

I have experienced a lot, in the sense of relationships and work life. I still know nothing about what I want, but I've finally been doing better at living my life day by day. I don't have my therapist anymore and I've been managing. I'm listening to The Life of Pablo, probably will listen to some ANTI, and then King Gizzard later and check out some of the rest of music my boyfriend has introduced to me. Trap and chillstep is really good lately, as are concept albums. I started collecting CD's and found some Rilo Kiley and Fleetwood Mac and I dug those for a while.

I'm finding myself really liking this guy. We haven't really known each other for a long time, but after a long period of being unattached to people in general, using them as sources of entertainment and for my own fantasies then pushing them away, I actually want his company. He goes along with my antics and embraces my playfulness, he gives me the tenderness I need. I was worried this would all be superficial, but it's been a steadily and unfurling process. I feel more comfortable now.

I feel more comfortable now.
I feel more comfortable now.
I feel more comfortable now.

new thing

So I don't do enough picture posts and I'm feeling kind of odd and I guess down, so let me counteract that with a good thing!

I found this dress at a liquidation sale at the mall (the land of overpriced things) for only $1.36 or so!!!! It was torn at the hooks, one of the embroidered flowers, and a strap. I didn't (and still technically don't really know how to sew) but I experimented and fixed it up so now it's wearable! I'm proud of myself for finally getting around to it and that I can learn something new on my own quite often. So yay!