dear x: begin again

dear x,

i began my journey of over-sharing to determine if i am capable of feeling love. i knew by doing so that i would resurrect reserved memories and expose some of you in the process. while i will admit that my love letters were not as productive as i initially hoped, i am so overwhelmed with a range of emotions for you-- and for the future.

perhaps it is too easy to blame my unwillingness to open up to new potential x's because of you. you, x, after all, lied to me, said crushing things, changed your mind, and left me-- in some way-- alone. you have helped create this psyche, this outlook, this worth, this self,






until i realized it's time to take ownership of my past, and that means you, x. you happened. i will never be the same. but at the end of the day, or at the first morning yawn, you are stagnant; ever effacing; past. writing to you this month has brought me some closure by materializing (as much as an internet blog post can do) my feelings and allowing an audience to empathize with a rarely deeply discussed sector of my life, body, and mind.

thank you, dear readers, for working through my love letters with me; maybe you have reflected on what has brought you to this point in your own life-- and who you do and don't share those experiences with now.

i suppose what remains is acceptance. dear x, i know everything happens for a reason. i can't deny how empty i feel at times, as if my ribs are parentheses bearing a dull heart that pitters listlessly and patters unfulfilled. but capturing some of those moments with you in these entries lets me relive and acknowledge what once made me happy; and what is love if not to share joy with and for someone. while simply stating that i forgive you and you are eternally free from the prison of my darkened mind is just not possible, i do however, x, agree to start letting go.

of what was.


of what could have been.

and perhaps releasing the bitterness and sadness and jadedness will generate space for someone who will see the fingerprints you left on my heart but who will surprise me by sailing away with me on the tide that gently slips over those grooves-- dispersing your memories into the swells that carry us into the horizon, enchanted.

love,

a.







i almost brought him up

but you start to talk about the movies

that your family watches every single christmas

so i won't talk about that

for the first time

what's passed is

past

dear x: i knew you were trouble

dear x,

i lied about pretty much everything. except my name. and that i live in boise. i am writing you this love letter to come clean.

i lied when i said i don't feel things. when you called me a sad little girl, the truth of your insult reverberated among my rib cage. when you threw your head back and laughed at my request for the truth about the thin blond hairs on your bathroom floor, my skull buzzed with nerves and rage.

i lied when i said that relationships are too much work. bad ones definitely are; i became sick with paranoia that you existed in a different world without me-- one with her. one where you talk about prufock & the scarlet letter with me-- and one where you fall asleep next to a girl who still posts pictures of you on facebook with clever captions and inside jokes.

i lied, x, about liking your paris hilton poem. i lied about finding your inability to choose a first name endearing. i lied about preferring to be alone-- i would have loved to feel your fingers tapping a beat to some indie song on my thigh as we watched a movie on my loveseat and drank JD straight from the bottle.

i lied about needing you. i lied when i implied "go away" was synonymous with "i don't care."

the tragedy of it all, x, is that i lied then and still think about it. but you, you lied then and lied so well that i can't tell the difference anymore between his sincerity and his omissions-- because you let me blur that line of reality for myself.

and i am so sorry.

or is that a lie too?

love,
a.

and the saddest fear comes creeping in

that you never loved me

or her

or anyone

or anything

dear x: lotus flower

dear x,

if he is the reason why i will never love another, then you are the reason why I will never love.

i have this recurring dream that is actually a memory from years ago. my body sat on the edge of your twin bed, but my mind swirled in past and possibility. you jerked me back to reality with a simple statement: "you look sad."

"i am sad," i whispered, to you and to me.

i am writing you this love letter, x, to tell you that you are not alone. when you enclose into the elliptical caress of your emotionless psyche, please know i too exist somewhere likely sucking my own metaphorical wounds. our monkeyrope is your attachment to my pain; you knew there were only so many times you could fuck me (over) and return to her the next morning, as if your guilt was worth more than my foolish hope. you knew there were only so many times, x, you could deny (knowing) me, as if your attractiveness depends on your dark solitude and not on my pathetic belief that you'll change. you knew there were only so many times you could wipe off my kiss before your own lips started to blur (partial) lies from (slanted) truth. you can tell them whatever you want; you're the one who doesn't sleep at night.

no, x, you are not alone. please know that you're not the only one who may be comfortable but not in love. because you have made it this way.

love,
a.

just to see what if

just to see what is

the truth is i never really left you.

oh, harro.

the chill mornings and waning sunlight tell me summer's end is near. fall is my favorite time of year, stirring some remnants of sentimentality together with hardened expectations for the impending colder (see: isolated) months ahead. dear reader, i have (re)learned many things these last few months; i hope you have also delved into thought, experience, people-- life.

so here's how i spent my summer...

deciding what to do with my bangs and expanding my accessories collection.









rediscovering my past in the recesses of my old bedroom at my parents' house.



my first sunglasses purchased at express!









confirming my problems are not diagnosable by a lab.





my first commercial aired. (3 more in the works.)




immersing myself in new worlds and drama.

like gossip girl

and nat geo documentaries

and glee

and-- big applause, please-- modern family

descending further into domestic life-- and conceding it's really not that terrible.















rediscovering past favorites that fit the present perfectly.

defending my patio from terrorists.

logging miles on a different set of tires.

getting away for a while.

















































for more pictures, see amy's blog too.






never reaching an answer but i'm really ok with that.

and life continues.

compost

this weekend,

I made a new friend, my mini pillow pet Elmer, that Amy bought for me.









I dressed up in my new cheetah print tutu (thanks, Kim!) and danced around my apartment.








this was my graceful pose but I look like Mr.Roboto-Fail. so here's another one (and so you can see the peep toe on my Ed Hardy pumps).









I made a new door hanger decoration thing-- I created my own pattern and learned a lot in the process. like, I am not good enough yet to sew a bird....
















I vowed to stop crying everyday because it's really just pathetic.









I downloaded this new app that allows me to add text to my pictures. this means I can totally geek out and tumblr will love me for my Taylor Swift quotations.









I spent some time outdoors in the sunshine.








and looked out, with new appreciation, at my parents' backyard. my dad landscaped the acre lot with my mom's help (including setting up the sprinkler system and building the fence and scavenging new build sites for river rocks) and each year, the foliage and visiting animals and decorations grow more beautiful.























I suppose, however, that some things will never change.








I will always wish for you.

i would single-handedly jumpstart this econony given the opportunity.

by now, many of you have filed your taxes-- and perhaps already received your refund.  maybe you used your money to catch up on some bills.  or maybe you spent it on some new furniture.  or maybe you are super lucky and stashed it away in your savings account.

or maybe you're like me and you used your refund to pay your parents back for some frustrating car repairs.

and you end up feeling like this:

even though my tax refund is already accounted for, i still dream about what i could have purchased to illuminate my world.  i live on a pretty tight budget (mostly out of necessity and partly because it's just how i am), and i rarely splurge on big ticket items anymore-- i mean, nail polish doesn't really count.


how about a new schwinn?

that i would totally pimp out with this bike seat:

or maybe some 1950's-style gray patent heel-LESS shoes:

or maybe some less shocking michael kors platforms for summer:

or maybe a new ed hardy tote (see! not every DEH item is obnoxious and emo):

or maybe a new swimsuit after i tan a bit:

or maybe some front row tickets to see taylor swift in LA's staple center on my birthday to hear her sing "haunted" LIVE:




in truth, dear reader, i am not wanting for much.  or i shouldn't anyway.  in time, i will get what i need.  you will too.