Riven

i was broken, riven, lying on the floor, with tears from something that I can't  fathom.  i can't call it crying, because i've never tasted such terror in tears, such apprehension. Belly full of life, and heart about to explode. Slavered on by love, told of my worthlessness by the one who should have held me. Deluded  by the one I believed I loved. Called a devil with green eyes from his invidious lips. His eyes, luminosity, hate. Immaculate hostility. He was indifferent to my pleas for mercy. He was deaf to my sincerity, the heartache that was obsolete to his rationality. I caught myself looking in the mirror, touching my hand's reflection with my finger tips, and feeling nothing, looking at my blank expression that seemed to bestow upon me, the  flag of "i give up"   She was nothing of absolute. She was broken and disdained. The arrogance of my own self seemed to pity the girl I saw. Seemed to let go of who she thought herself to be, who she wanted to be, and who she ever hoped to be. He stripped me of my worth, and made me feel as though I needed him, because somehow in all the scrutiny, he made me believe I was in fact, inconsequential… There were moments of complete and utter feelings of, loss, of a noble heart shattered by the wrath of his unrelenting, remorseless world. My world. Our world.  Some days at work, I found myself having to run to the bathroom, where I would lock myself inside a stall, and break down, completely forfeit every piece of composure i could muster to get any composer at all. Gone. Literally, gone. Those lonely, indescribable tears, full of hearted desolation.  Consternation, perplexity, My world then…and it haunts me at times, how do you run from such consciousness? Escape seems to not be an option. I do not dare let or allow myself to forget the moments I speak of, how dare I consign to oblivion the possibility of my past repeating itself once again….Never, never, at no time, never. 

The beginning

Maybe it's not meant to be a sad sad lonely tail, the story, my story...I'm writing. I have many secrets, secrets I'm ashamed of. Things i've done, in darkness, that I wish I could take back, but I know I can't. I'm going to write my story. All of it, and I hope you're reading... Day by day, truth...my truth. How i felt, how I feel now..What has shaped my thoughts and my emotions, my decisions and my path.
             We all have a first love, that somehow becomes a memory and someone takes his place. I was 18, and just ending my senior year of high school. He was beautiful and older, 23. It was that "can't eat, can't sleep"   type of love, to a girl that had no idea of this big world. The memories are sweet and cherished. I fell in love but maybe subconsciously  I knew I had so much more of a journey waiting just ahead. I spent three years with him. I had plans of a future with him. Maybe those plans were placed in my mind because that's how we are all "supposed" to live our lives. Husband and wife, the white picket fence, how it "called" to me???? I was newly 21 and seemingly my life was perfect. Great boyfriend, school, great family and friends, good job...I was on that "white picket fence" path....I can't explain what it was that drew the line for me, the line that brought to writing him that letter, telling him I had to leave, but something was telling, "GO."   I packed my things into my red car and drove off to Hilton Head, South Carolina where I would stay with my grandparents and figure my future out...It was a late evening and beneath the spanish moss and lingering February air my grandma stepped into my room and said she had an engagement party to attend. She told me, "Maybe you will meet some friends there, Amy."    I walked up the brilliant path, glowing from the small lights along it's way, leading up to the huge glass door of the plantation home. And there he was, standing in a blue sweater, holding onto one crutch. I noticed him right away, smiling with a beer in hand. A light in the room. The party went on, and the people were so happy. I stepped outside to get a drink and that's when he approached me. Small talk was made and finally he pulled out his iphone. Numbers were exchanged. I can't say that I was completely head over heels for him instantly, but he definitely was a good reason to smile.  A few days later and I got a text asking to hang out. I believe I declined him the first time, but not the second. He invited me to hang out at his parents house. I kindly accepted and asked him for directions. I was to meet him at the Port Royal Plantation. I made my way there that evening, pulling up the long drive way up to the most beautiful Southern home. It was massive! I remember being so nervous walking up the steps to his home, and then the door opened. There my future stood, an elegant glass of wine in hand and the other arm stretched out for a hug. I can still remember how he holds his hand to place it on a shoulder to give a very welcoming hug. He was a light. I know that's what drew me in. He had this smile, this love for life, that was so new to me. So accepting and caring. I instantly felt drawn to him. We sat on the leather sofa that night, sipping on wine, and watching the movie, "the five people you meet in heaven."   And that was the beginning, to everything....to the chaos, to brilliance of life, the hot summer southern nights...to what has been and to what is....This is my story....

           

Endless...

She was supposed to have a story, words written so that everyone could fathom her as someone she really isn't. Maybe she wanted to run from the truth. The words that would reveal to her, her own truth. Of love that proved itself to be anything but...Is that what he wanted her to say, to admit. That she was in love and love, spit in her face. Her past had a disheartening way of repeating itself. Is that what he wanted? Did he want to send her into a whirlwind? Did he want her to crash, because he somehow thought it would bring her heart into an endless void of can't get up, can't get out. Stuck on his eyes, his eyes overtaking her mind...always. Because that's what he did. And she was never right, and somehow he knew everything, because his wrongs could never be anything but right...but her, she was endlessly wrong...

chocolate chip cookies

Maybe it was the warmth of the chocolate chip cookies from Starbucks, and the taste of the green tea, no sugar or water added, that kept me alive, on those evenings I spent alone in my car or parked at the shoreline of San Onofre or at the top of Dana Point Harbor, contemplating life, and all the meanings that I could never put together. I can remember the color of the late evening and how it made me feel with my windows down, just passing time. Solitude mixed with vast array of silence. The pacific was a harsh teacher. She spoke so loudly and she was cruel to me at times.  But she always took the time to listen to my thoughts, and for that, I'm thankful to her. I didn't say goodbye, I just drove away, like I always do, and for that…I'm sorry to her. I believe she knew why I had to do it this way, this time. I think she understood my tears and she accepted them kindly. I always wonder when I will return to her, to see her beauty stretch out aimlessly, with the sailboats rocking in her waters and the seabirds kissing her lightly. I can see the orange and reds fading into pinks and blues and disappearing into the depth so gracefully. The people I would wonder about, strangers in their every day lives, going home, leaving home for the evening, wondering about them and what they wonder about. Who they go home to, if they go home to anyone. The pain they have experienced and the happiness that keeps them moving. I used to be envious of the mere fact that they had a bedroom, a place to put their watch as they took it off for the evening before they would dream, but that feeling passed.  I think the nights that I walked the harbor alone, saved me in may ways. The clanking of the boats, the gull of the birds, the water, glassy and clam, reflecting the ending of the day, and the seals saying goodnight to one another. That was my home. That loneliness became my refuge from a world that has been so unforgiving of me. I became accustom to the void and it was my strength in ways I still don't understand, and perhaps that fact scars me more than I care to admit, because in my loneliness I found shelter and comfort.  Ortega highway…how I miss the miles I'd drive alone, to my favorite pull off,where I'd park my jeep and hike all day to my favorite set of boulders. And the feel of the rocks on my finger tips made me feel something more…and looking up through the trees let me feel God…right there…And when he smiled at me in those moments, I understood forgiveness. I think he wanted me to know it's real, And it's then that I realize that we all must forgive each other, no matter what. No matter how others scar us and how they seem to not even care when they destroy a piece of our hearts and world, but still…forgive.  I can feel a part of my California leaving me, and honestly, I'm terrified. I don't know how to say goodbye, maybe thats why I've never said goodbye to anyone, but I think this time it's different. There is a pull in my atmosphere and It's a strange new feeling. Let go of me, i'm letting go of you. This forgiveness is goodbye, and thats how we must end. Have I lost my California? And if so, when life lets me do down again, how will I ever find the loneliness that I grew so well to know. I guess what I fear most is the past, and perhaps it repeating itself, because it has done so…and thats the question I'd love to ask my past, face to face…something in that affect, but I still don't know how to put the question into words…If i could try, it might go something like this…If i was the best part of everything you were, like you used to say, then why did I become a tomb, why was my flesh so meaningless to you, and the heart created, why could you not hear it? I felt it in my bones, the life given to us, the chance to get it right, the chance, the blessing put in our hands…and you just shook your head no, no, no…I never want to feel that no again. Never again. Because right now, I'm not strong enough to survive again. If I even did  survive before, because at times…I feel the past complete and feed off of the emptiness inside.

awaken

She's felt it, the moments in between that wail to her, only she can hear it. So loud in her mind, like voices of her own introspection, the primeval chaos.. chasing her into different directions. Letting her know of the unknown, the X, the uncharted and how it seeks her heart, recklessly, dauntlessly. Chasing a void away, leading her boldly. Come to me, chase me feverishly. Run in my direction and I will captivate you with my beauty. The places you know nothing of, the people you have not placed eyes upon, I can tell you this, all is artistry, the allurement of the discovery is enough to keep the starving alive. To unearth the minds wonders, to get a taste to the craving is a mere encounter to a freedom waiting to be explored. I will resonate within your being like fire takes to trees. I will hold your body tight and I will not on your life let you go girl, for I am the desolate,the concealed until you find me, until you stumble willingly upon me. Speak to me when you are amazed, and whisper "where are you" when you are adrift, I will find you in your "lost state"  I will engulf you, only if you are looking for me, only if you are brave enough to seek me I will submerge and envelop your senses, Only then…If you pass me by, if you pass your hope by, you will feel it like the beginning of fatality. To deprive your soul quenching energy is nonetheless, moral depravity. To stop the journey in the midst of a greater voyage…cataclysm.   Free your body into the moments of "anywhere from here"   distance wears its heart on it's well worn sleeve, and time spills into your aged eyes, only so you can see…you do not live forever, only your soul is infinite, come chase me…leave pieces of your self in the winds of yesterday, leave your heart to the ones who you tell your story to, and keep moving girl. Keep awakening.