Little city skylines

Ever work 3 twelve hour night shifts then sit in the back seat of chevy truck jam packed with wedding supplies for 9 hours? No?  Well I have.  Doesn't make for the best sleeping spot, but, well, I had to get from point A to B.  B being a little factory town called Wood River, where a not so small wedding was to take place.  The land was flat, and on that particular day the sky was gray.  Not too many clouds, except the ones man-made by the oil refinery.  I will say the light of the factory in the distance was a pretty sight.
Small towns have a certain beauty about them.  They don't amaze with colorful, blinking lights, and fancy buildings, pretty clothes or people.  But it's home, it's comfort.  Even though they aren't always safe, there is some safety in the fact that people aren't striving for something too extraordinary.  You can be just as you are.  You can greet people with a smile and a wave, and not just rush past.  The goals are different, sure.   Not any better, not any worse goals.  But small towns are for families, and extended families, and families in law.  Sure I don't live in that universe, but I can appreciate it, and even tolerate it for a week or so.  But the weirdos and "free thinkers" migrate to the cities and free think the same things.  Because of this, many of the free thinkers actually start to think like everyone else in the city, except a few that are called "small minded".  I'm not making this stuff up, well at least not to my knowledge.  And the weirdos find each other and become a crew of weirdos, which actually makes them normal in this place in time.  I guess in a way we all just want to be normal somehow, somewhere, in some situation.

Anyways back to the Chevy truck crammed with wedding supplies.  No actually that memory should stay out of this.  So once I was out of that 2 by 2 area I contorted in for 9 hours, I hopped onto a sidewalk, stared at an old house with pumpkins on the porch.  The Lankford's house was full of antiques, animals, animals hairs, and well, wonderful people.  You got my best friend Kori (the bride of this story), her sister Jenny, Mama Lanky, and Mike.  And the one that wasn't there that day, the baby boy of the family, Jesse.  Funny though, I did talk to him about ten minutes after we arrived.  I picked up the house phone, which is another charm of a small town, and handed it to Mike.  Of course it was Jesse and he smiled and said "no you answer it".  I hadn't heard Jesse's voice in over two years.  My stomach dropped, I'm not proud of that, but it dropped.  Now don't get me wrong, I love Kori, and I wanted this wedding to be amazing.  But this wedding planning had been going on for over a year, and well the excitement for the wedding had reached a plateau; now the work that needed to be accomplished was now on the front burner.  And well, work is work.  But on the weeks leading up to this point, my excitement was drawn from the fact I would get to see this boy Jesse.  So maybe you understand the stomach drop now, maybe not.  You maybe haven't met Jesse.  His stupid little voice, it's not real manly or anything.  It's kind of boyish actually.  I really like it.  This silly little phone conversation didn't last long.  Thankfully, as I couldn't handle the embarrassment of everyone staring at me as I spoke.  I cracked some stupid jokes like, "I think you have the wrong number, maybe check the area code."  I can tell he is off his guard, maybe a nervous laugh was the indicator, but either way I had his attention.  He is likely struggling for something to say to me.  I mean I haven't seen him in two years.  I don't want to portray this situation in the wrong light.  Jesse and I never dated, or grew up together, or even talked on the phone.  We had a night together, just the two of us.  This evening consisted of cheap beer, college clubs, and courtyard benches.  And this night went really well, we kissed, and I melted in his hands.  We wrote back in forth over internet messages for a few months after that.  I lived on the Outer Banks of NC, and he lived in Chicago at that time.  Which honestly didn't mean much to me.  I really would have tried to be with him, long distance of course, I mean I was still in school at that point.  I don't know if that makes me impractical or what.  But I'm sure that he didn't see it that way.  I'm 24 years old, and I still don't understand men, what they really feel deep down.  What do they really want?  I mean I really have no idea if he normally kisses strangers like me; I know I don't.  I know to me he was really special.  I remember living in the Outer Banks and questioning if maybe something would happen with him.  I was innocent enough to hope, but jaded enough to doubt it.  Two years later I am still holding that hope.  I guess I didn't realize I was still holding it, until it came time to see him.  I mean I thought of him time to time, and he was alway a candidate for a long term relationship, but hearing his voice I felt it rushing back to the forefronts of my mind.  This silliest part is I could be writing about so many other things right now, but this 30 second conversation has my mind deep in thought.  During the conversation, he tells me he will be in town Friday morning, one day before the wedding.  I'm actually kind of sad, I really wanted to see him longer.  I quickly hate myself for having unwarranted expectations of a teenage girl.  And here I am still dwelling way too much on this one point.

So, that night I was sleep deprived and feeling drunk from the lack of sleep.  I encouraged Kori to drink in order to join my drunkard state, and because she was extremely stressed.  Everything seemed to be going wrong with the wedding.  Her makeup artist bailing out, the priest being stuck in a flooded town, a bridesmaid with postpartum depression, a messed up wedding program.  She could feel all the weight of everything on her.  Every detail of this wedding day was on her mind, and everyone needed to talk to her for advice, questions, concerns, or (God forbid) problems.  I sat and tried to maintain a balance of support and just staying out of the way.  If ever I felt my presence was unwelcome or unnecessary I kindly exit the room in search for an animal.  It was on these excursions that I fell in love with an old Persian cat called "Liv-Liv".  I was very happy to have her company in awkward situations where I was definitely out of place.  There were also dogs, a chubby one named Lucy, a bouncy one called Lola, and a big lazy one with wiry hair named Oliver.  It was like being in a pet store.  There was even a bird named Raven.  I kept my mind busy with little things, like assigning each animal to a character of Winnie the Pooh.  Oliver was Eeyore, Raven was piglet, Lola was tigger, Lucy was Pooh, and Liv was rabbit.  I realize how childish my brain may seem.  But there is just so much time in life to think.  I prefer to live in a child's book if I have to be somewhere in my mind.  Whenever I was needed, usually for crafts, I did my best to take special care to not mess up any important details.  The first night was part of craft time.  Kori, Mama Lanky, Jenny were all organizing candles and silver platters, and me writing names on tags for the wedding party.  The saddest part of that night was I didn't listen to music while writing the names.  I've realized that people don't want music to be played at every moment in life.  This fact blows my mind entirely.  I want to listen to music constantly, and if I have to have a conversation I just turn the music down.  I realize that this part of me can be selfish and annoying, so I continued to write in silence.  It must have been about 11 pm when we finally left Mike and Mama Lanky's house.  Next stop was Rick and Shirley's house, I was so tired I cannot remember much about this encounter.  I do remember dodging Kori's wedding dress, there was no way I was touching that thing.  She carried it inside and I held doors.  If you mess up a bride's wedding dress, I think the friendship is terminated.  Finally I arrived at a place I could sleep.  It was a bright green room with two cribs and a twin bed.  It was perfect.  I hadn't laid my body down in over 32 hours.  There wasn't pillow so I slept on my Front Bottoms sweatshirt and didn't budge until Kori came in the next morning.

Waking up exhausted is a feeling I know all so well.  Being awake for over 24 hours is a once a week thing for me.  And 7 hours is not enough sleep to combat this, at least for me.  But the wedding plans wait for no one.  To Kori's surprise I am awake staring at the ceiling.  Kori is already ready, and looks that she has been awake for about 2 hours at this point.  I fight the urge to roll over and avoid life.  Kori of course looks like a model, dressed and ready to sign a marriage license.  I contemplate for 5 seconds trying to dress nice.  Then I realize I don't care and wear yoga pants and my "not before coffee" shirt.  My hair is mess so I wet it and quickly put makeup on.  Kori's uncle, Rick, has made us breakfast and some decent coffee.  I eat some eggs and toasted white bread.  I am craving delicious, strong coffee, with real creamer.  We meet up with Evan and head to the court house.  It's a dreary day, and the court house is so mundane.  It matches the sky.  We are checked for weapons and asked to empty our pockets.  Luckily I have none in my yoga pants, whew.  I am supposedly there to be a witness, but I am actually not needed for that at all.  I sit and watch multiple couples trail in, asking to get a marriage license.  I realize that even though marriage is such a big deal, so many people are still trying.  I start to think getting married is not impressive at all, literally anyone can do it.  I basically just wait and then take a picture of them with the license.  Thank God, one task done.  I am happy to leave this room with it's fake flowers and white picket arbor.  Kori hasn't shown any nerves about actually being married.  She'd known for so long that she wanted to marry Evan.  She displayed no doubts whatsoever.  I doubt this will ever be the case for me.  I am way too indecisive.  I probably have to see a counselor during the entire engagement period.  I see many melt downs and anxiety during that whole period of time.  I wonder if Evan is anything like me, if he is scared, if he is he doesn't show it at all.  I've never been in love, like romantic stuff.  It's actually hard to decipher what I think about marriage.  I get the concept of it.  But it's very big, maybe even sacred.  It's because of this that messing up in a marriage has higher consequences.  I've never cheated, I don't think I ever will.  That doesn't mean that I shouldn't be scared to enter something that requires so much commitment.  Then there is the living together part.  I'm not sure I want anyone to know me that well.  I am weird and insecure, and sad, and crazy, and a whole bunch of collaborative anomalies.  Sometimes I change, sometimes I can't accept change.  I can't imagine being attractive to someone if they know all the shit inside of me.  Not in a cliche "no one understands me" kind of way, but I have a few people that know most of me, and they don't live with me.  Could they stand too?

We drive out of the downtown area, and we are off to get Kori's nails done.  During that period I run through a list of things that need to be contemplated.  Like "Kori do you have the accessories you need: fake eyelashes, flats to dance in, lipstick, hairspray?"  She has most of it under control.  She didn't have flats.  Good, now me and Evan have a purpose other than get his pants tailored which will take ten minutes.  Before we begin our tasks we get something to eat at a grocery store I've never been to.  I pick up some stuff I might need for the big day which includes cotton pads, witch hazel, lotion.  Of course we are on a time schedule; this whole week is a time schedule.  This is very unlike my normal life.  Anyways Kori says we are good on time and we deliver her 20 minutes early to her nail appointment.  Now it's just me and Evan.  He's like an older brother I never had.  He thanks me for being here for Kori, how I am a good friend.  I awkwardly try to ignore the compliment, because I have no idea how to take them.  I ask him if we can please go get coffee now.  We put Starbucks in the GPS.  Finally, I get to have some strong coffee!  I get a venti cafe au lait with whole milk, two sugars.  Love at first sip.  Now I can handle driving without music; you understand how this hurts me from my earlier rant.  First stop, the mall.  How do I feel about the mall?  It can be a torture chamber, addictive, therapy, and a means to end.  We end up in Macy's looking for shoes.  I decide to get new shoes for the wedding, along with flats for the wedding, and some pretty flats for Kori to wear at the reception.  Luckily Kori and I have the same shoe size, along with lots of other qualities.  I try on around ten pairs of shoes for the wedding ceremony, which should be nude, not too high, and not to flashy.  I meet a pretty girl who is also trying on lots of shoes like me.  She hears me talking to Evan about the style of the shoes which should go with the theme of the wedding and look good with the dress, yada-yada.  All of this Evan doesn't actually care about, but for some reason I care deeply about.  She helps me decide on a closed toed pump.  I start to wonder about her life as I try on the shoes.  Seems like she is here a lot, she is stylish, and she is knowledgeable about styles and fashion.  She also tells me I look like a model, I avoid the complement.  What's her job, why is she here in the middle of the day on Wednesday?  I could be much more fashionable if I took the time.  I am interested in it, but I can't make myself spend the time or money to make it a hobby or a skill.  That's why I sit there in yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt that has a "but first coffee" text on it.  Next task, flats.  I find some comfortable gray flats quickly.  The harder task is some shoes for Kori.  We decide on a simple gold sparkly flat.  Off for more tasks.  We end up at a tailor shop run by some friendly people of asian descent.  They say they can get the pants tailored by tomorrow.  Yay, our tasks are done.  We still have an hour to spare.  Why not get my nails done?  I hate this idea, but it is necessary for my nails to not look horrible.  I decide on purple paint, and then regret it when I have to sit still while they dry.  Torture ends, and we pick up Kori.  This night is concluded similar to the night before.  We pour our efforts into wedding tasks except I wear my new heels around for fun mostly, and to break them in.  This day comes to end with all tasks completed.  Kori and I head over to her aunt and uncle's house, and I curl up on the twin bed in the bright green room.  I sleep with a pillow and it feels so good.

Prep day two begins early again, this time we get coffee first which makes life a little easier.  This time we drive to the city of St. Louis.  It's the day for trials.  Trial for hair is first.  This takes place in a girl's home that is being renovated.  The house is probably over 100 years old.  Luckily I can play with the cats there too.  There's a little black kitten, and an older, super moody, cat.  They keep me entertained as I watch Kori's hair get curled, pinned, and hair sprayed.  The house is beautiful, but only the third floor is finished.  I'm not sure I could live that way, having to walk up the completely unfinished parts to get to beautiful parts.  Everyday seeing how much work is left to do.  We walk past the unfinished parts as we leave.  I hate that it bothers me, I suppose it highlights my perfectionism.  We drive back to Wood River and pick up some hair extensions for Kori to fill her hair out more for the big day.  I buy a brush in order for me to make my curly hair straight for a day.  We finally have some down time, and I desperately need alone time and to work out.  I decide to go to a gym and do some yoga and maybe some cardio.  The most unbelievable thing happened.  While doing yoga in the studio, the manager told me to put my shoes on.  Yoga with shoes on?  Seriously.  I did get a good workout in, but not as good as if I could do actual yoga.  After alone time/gym time, we trial the makeup.  The trial takes place in a tiny apartment.  The make-up artist has a desk that is completely covered with makeup.  We all causally talk about the best products, our jobs, and other basic topics.  During the conversation, turns out she knows Jesse.  Great now he's in my mind again.  I guess they went to school together.  She talks about how nice he is, blah, blah.  I try not to say anything to avoid being transparent.  The past two days I have been trying to avoid thinking about him.  With the realization that my hopes for the situation are not valid and probably a bit childish.  I do not contribute to the conversation at all.  It's getting late and the temperature has dropped dramatically.  I start feeling a cold coming on.  I try to convince myself I am not sick.  But I feel my head aching and my nose running.  Great, the rehearsal is tomorrow, what bad timing.  Kori takes me to a little coffee shop on the way home from the makeup trial.  I have to admit that I need to go home and rest, that I am probably getting sick.  We get our coffees and head out.  I stay at her aunt and uncle's house while she goes to work on wedding preparations.  I am sneezing constantly, and I am freezing.  I figure I have some sinus infection, which is causing a fever.  I take tylenol, sudafed, and a decongestant.  Luckily, I am nurse and can self medicate pretty well.  I am disappointed and a little anxious.  I knew it was a possibility I would get sick: the long hours on the first day I arrived, new environment with new allergens, my stupid allergies, and hardly any alone time allotted.  But still I am sad I will be feeling bad for the rest of the wedding preparation and the actual wedding.  I close my eyes anyways and get the sleep I desperately needed.

I wake up with a head full a bunch of stuff, thoughts and snot.  I start the drugging process before Kori comes to wake me up.  I am also drinking a ton of water, the medications I am taking will make me very dry.  I throw on some comfortable clothes and get ready for setting up the church.  First, we get coffee and bagels.  I thank Jesus.  Second, we start decorating an already insanely gorgeous Catholic church.  I am in awe of this place as I stare at the stained glass, beautiful floors, and wood carved pews.  It makes me rethink my opinions about the catholic church, well sort of... Not really, but it is really pretty.  It's so cold, I shiver and feel the fever.  I work through it and don't say a word.  It's nice being with this group.  It's momma Lanky, Jenny, and Kori.  I feel like a part of the family.  Momma Lanky even has to lecture me about appropriate language in the church.  I am definitely her child at this point.  It makes me happy, plus I get to drink coffee, even better.  This church is fairytale on the inside.  Since I am a fiction junkie, I imagine all the scenes in books that take place in a church like this.  I could sit for hours and imagine them all in here.  And although I am sick, I feel hyped up on the sudafed.  I could run around like a mad woman if we didn't have so much to get done today.  At the back of the sanctuary there's a Jesus statue that's really strange.  I stand in front of it for a few minutes.  I try to keep the thoughts to myself, like "why does Jesus have a horn?", or "what the hell is this?" These all can wait of course.  We have the rehearsal hall to decorate next.  No time for my silly comments, or day-dreaming, or running around.  We pack up supplies and load up in the car.  I start to feel sick again, the cold church has made my body work harder to feel okay.  I close my eyes and tell myself I am okay.  It's about then that I start to feel it all...  I am tired, I want to be alone, I want to be okay.  I am nervous and excited to see Jesse.  I haven't asked about him, and this week isn't about me; I've heard conversations about him, just briefly.  I think he is bringing a date, but I can't ask. I tell myself,  "don't be too obvious now, play it cool."  My blood is propelling through my veins too fast, I am shaky and tired, I feel achy, my fever is cycling around causing problems.  "Power through" I keep telling myself.  I want to talk to someone, but Kori has too much on her plate.  I don't know anyone else well enough to disclose all of this shit.  Oh damn it, we are at the reception hall.  It's go time.  I stay task oriented.  We carry all the supplies in, and Kori runs the show.  I happily take commands.  It takes a few hours and we still aren't done.  I am freaking out.  I am not holding in all the problems.  The anxiety is rolling up out of my eyes in the form of water.  I have to get out of here, there's no windows in this big beautiful room.   I need to outside and alone.  I feel so stupid for having a melt down, and this isn't even my wedding.  I hate that part of this reaction is related to Jesse possibly having a date.  I definitely have to get out of this room.  I escape to the bathroom and cry in the stall.  I feel like I am in high school again.  I feel the world crashing on me, and feel disgusted by how dramatic I am.  I need my sister again, just like in high school.  Just like when I was sad about a boy I couldn't have, or nervous to talk to a boy.  I go outside to catch my breath and blow my nose a hundred times.  The sky is so gray, the kind that blinds my sick eyes.  If I don't talk to my sister Lindsey I am not going to make it.  I get her on the phone, her voice is so comforting.  Thank God for her.  I can say anything, nothing is too immature or stupid.  I tell her everything, all the insecurities I have about my body and my dress, and how perfect and skinny Kori is, and how I am sick and tired, and how I feel about Jesse.  She listens, and agrees with me on everything.  I feel like all the problems in the net of my brain all swim back into the ocean.  I take some more cold medicine, and drink another bottle of water.   I start to feel normal again, at least mentally.  I've been on the phone with Lindsey almost an hour.  I have to go back in and do bridesmaid stuff.  I wrap up my conversation with my sister and best friend.  I ask for a prayer, and I blow my nose one more time just for good measure.  When I get back in no one asks about my lengthy absence from decorating.  We finish up more fine details and it's getting late.   We now have an hour till the reception dinner.  This day is going non-stop.  We rush to the hotel, check-in, and drag all the luggage in.  My inner preteen wants to look pretty, and not like I am running a fever and/or have recently cried.  And of course Jesse is going to be at the rehearsal dinner.  I utilize makeup and choose a black flowy dress with a pink belt, and I wear the new shoes I bought with Evan.  It's all a sprint to get ready, but I probably take too long staring at myself.  I feel inadequate, not skinny enough, my eyes too puffy, my hair frizzy, and many other flaws.  I am frustrated with my thoughts.  I get rushed out of the room by the group.  We make our way down the hall of the hotel.

Then there it is.  The stupid moment I see Jesse and his girlfriend.  My stomach feels like a pit.  She's petite, pale, artsy, with gray blue hair.  Isn't she just so damn trendy.  I am so different looking, whole different size, and color, and style.  I just want to avoid the whole thing.  But I can't help staring at them together.  I take the bait, all the problems start swimming back into my net of a brain.  Dammit, trapped again.  What does my face look like to everyone else?  Jesse introduces her to his parents and sisters.  Their happiness annoys me.  They talk about his haircut, she says she loves it.  I want to vomit at her comment.  How am I supposed to interact with him?  I fake a smile.  Fuck this, I walk ahead and take the elevator with another bridesmaid.  We have to wait for a few more people to get ready.  I sit downstairs in the hotel lobby.  My mind spinning almost dizzy from the congestion in my head and all the thoughts.  I am jealous, sad, angry, and stupid.  My silly high school girl is back.  I go to bathroom to blow my nose, I stare at her.  I thought I was woman, but not really, how I have regressed.  I touch my hair enough to change nothing.  Why do I do this to myself?  The goddamn mirror, and this goddamn high school girl.  He's in the lobby now,  in his slacks and dress shirt.  She's there in her skinny jeans that she wears so well.  She isn't going to the rehearsal, instead hanging out with some of his family at the hotel bar.   I hate that I have to listen to her plans.  I purposefully ride in a different car from him.  I am have absolutely no idea how to act around him.  All this is my fault, of course not his or hers; it's all mine.  But taking ownership is far above me at this point.  I have to keep moving forward to avoid the downward spiral that is calling me.
I keep my head up, and put on my poker face.  Now as you know it is important to rehearse the wedding.  So in wedding lingo, there is the rehearsal wedding, this happens before the rehearsal dinner.  My how my vocabulary has grown since I hit 22, and everyone started getting married.  The rehearsal wedding is a gathering of the wedding party, with a leader or wedding planner.  He or she leads the party in an organized chaos, that ends up as a group of people doing un-extraordinary things, like walking, and standing, and such.  Anyways, it is a vital part of the wedding prep, but the things that are asked of me are so incredibly simple that I cannot pay attention.  I know this from experience in prior weddings.  If my mind is not occupied with something it will get distracted and be unable to carry out the easiest task at hand.  So I decide to solely rely on my pretty partner, Ryan (the most handsome groomsman).  I also learned that I should walk after the couple in front of me.  The pace we should set is not concrete.  But I strategically wore the same shoes that I am wearing for the wedding.  I do this because I am brilliant.  That is not true, but the idea of wearing the same shoes to rehearsal is quite smart.  I guess I should also mention the love interest.  So Jesse was also at this rehearsal.  My regressing mind treats him as my middle school self would, by ignoring him.  You ignore the boy you like, it make sense in some stupid way.  It definitely makes sense when he has a girlfriend.  It also makes sense when you get your hopes up about a guy that of course has a girlfriend, as he is a total catch.  I am constantly aware of myself when he is near.  Aware of my posture, my makeup, my ass.  Me as a whole is vulnerable in his presence.  Him and his goddamn "new" haircut.  Our time rehearsing in the beautiful church is coming to an end.  Time to load into cars again and have ourselves a rehearsal dinner (see how I use the new vocabulary).
The sun is starting to set, and it's beautiful out.  Contrasting my thoughts about myself, the sky is gorgeous with dark blue hues on the clouds.  Finally the heat has subsided, but I still feel a bit feverish from the cold.  As we park on the side of the street beside the restaurant, I prepare myself to stop being the most self-centered person on earth.  The restaurant is a nice Italian place.  We make our way to the back, we are all way over dressed for the front of the restaurant.  The back is a room with a small bar and about six tables.  I keep close to the other bridesmaids.  Sara, the fun and wild blonde bridesmaid, suggests a drink.  We both get a dry red.  I know I should probably eat first, but I think I could use a buzz.  We sit in the first row facing the projector.  Luckily I have the bridesmaids and Kori to keep me distracted.  I sip the wine and we joke about the times we shared on Kori's bachelorette weekend.  I feel the alcohol counteract my anxiety and unjustified anger.  I have another glass with dinner.  I don't eat much, which isn't like me, but with the lack of sleep and cold medicine it's understandable.  I genuinely smile at the speeches and slideshow about Kori and Evan.  I finish a few more glasses.  Me and Sara talk and laugh like best friends in middle school as the evening comes to an end.  We giggle and chat in a silly teeny-booper language that is very annoying if you aren't directly involved.  We say goodnight and innocently kiss on the lips.  Kori's almost mother in-law sees us and is shocked, her face is all scrunched up with disapproval.  That was probably bad.  I'll apologize to Kori later.  I sneak glances at Jesse.  His legs crossed and he smiles and talks to relatives and soon to be relative-in-laws.  Everyone is so interested in his life in the big city of New York.  I roll my eyes inside, and also kick myself for not talking to him.  I look silly and weak.  Why don't I just suck it up and talk to him?  I can't think of a damn thing to say.  I'm the worst at the small talk, and I cringe at the thought of me saying something ridiculous.  Something's aren't meant to be I guess.  I walk out with a slight buzz.  But mostly I am exhausted, and tired of being constantly aware of myself.  We load into a few cars to head back to the hotel.  I take off the heels and rub the soles of my feet.  I desperately need to be alone.  My introvert soul is exhausted.  I need my own music with my own thoughts.  Some of the party goes to the hotel bar, I go straight to the hotel room.  I was instructed to "blow my hair out".  It sound much easier than it is.  I bought a special brush for this, but my hair is very long and thick.  I decide to take a bath and try to rinse off some of my day and illness.  Water is calming.  The water is warm and inviting unlike how I feel right now.  I fill the bath almost to the brim.  I play a soothing playlist of only songs I personally love.  I dunk my head under and smear my layers of makeup off.  I work the knots out of my unruly hair.  Finally I feel clean and my hair is coated with conditioner.  Now time to blow dry the hair.  I start the process and realize my arms are not long enough in comparison to the length of my hair.  I am getting a workout and I am sweating profusely from the heat of the blow drier.  An hour later my hair is puffy and mostly straight.  Another bridesmaid comes in and asks "did you burn something?"  I probably burned my hair, I didn't notice because of the stopped-up, snot nose on my face.  I look for the brush and really look closely in the bright light of the bathroom. Yep, the brush is burned.  I laugh and search my head for damage.  Luckily the brush has most of the damage.  We keep the door propped open to hall to air out the room.  I apologize for the smell, and listen to music with my headphones in.  I need something to wash out my thoughts. Music for the mind and water for the body.  Sleep comes slow, but it comes.
I wake up feeling a strong urge to blow my nose.  I feel less than glamourous.  Me and Kristen, the Maid of Honor and my current roommate, take turns complaining about how early it is.  But we both get up and start rushing around to get ready.  I have to do Evan's nieces makeup, and my own.  I also have to make time for my hair to get done.  This sounds easier than it is.  The getting ready process take hours.  Sara brings the coffee, and she becomes my favorite person.  We all take turns making each other prettier.  I enjoy makeup.  It's art that you wear.  I love to make someone feel beautiful and confident in their skin.  I do my own makeup and it's fun.  I spent hours looking at makeup to try out;.  I even did a trial at home.  The theme was 1920's-1930's, The Great Gatsby era.  Our heavily beaded dresses and nude heels could fit right in at one of Jay's ragers.  At first we are relaxed and having fun getting ready.  But then the climate changes, and it's almost time to go.  I still have to get my hair done, and did I mention I burned my hair last night! Then we are rushing, we are hungry, and we are stressed.  It's suddenly hot everywhere, all things are annoying, and what the hell am I supposed to bring to the wedding?  I need flats, and extra hairpins, makeup (in case of crying, and sweating), and my phone, and flats.  My memory of this chaos is likely much more dramatic than it actually was.  Now picture ten or so girls in one room all obsessing about their appearance, while simultaneously complimenting every other girl in the room.   Its tasking, let me tell you.  As we all juggle the tasks of being a human being, a female, and a bridesmaid, Kori has the ultimate struggle.  This day is all about her, literally all eyes on her.  She is so beautiful, like a life size Barbie has come to life.  I try not to stare too long at her, but it's a challenge.  I tuck away my envy for another day, and smile at this lovely lady in front of me.  I just want her day to be perfect, and so it shall.  Now, back to the rushing, rushing, rushing, scrambling, juggling, complimenting, smiling, and speed walking to the car.  Now let's get to the chapel for a wedding!
Let us all remember the "thou shall not touch the dress" rule, and also the "thou shall stay out of the way unless needed" rule.  These are important things you know.  I try my best to do this, and also inwardly stress about where on earth I will put my bag!  I am also unsure if I will cry, and I realize that in my emotional state that is is likely that tears will be shed.  I have enough fluids filling my sinuses, but why not add a little more to the mix?  Really all I have to do is look pretty and walk down the aisle, laugh at the correct times, try not to sneeze or cough, and smile.  But I am actually nervous! Imagine how Kori feels, or Evan.  I think I need a drink.  The most attractive groomsman is about to walk me down the aisle.  Of course he is married with a baby, and one in the oven, but hey we look good.  And a man that is taller than me in heels will always make me smile.  He compliments me, I blush and give him a compliment back.  We are lined up in the hallway.  Our anticipation is lingering in a old church, I think about being in lines in elementary school.  My silly mind again is wandering.  Of course as a second grader I would not touch a boy!  We all wait for the wedding planner to tell us what to do.  I actually have no idea what I am doing at this point in time.  Luckily, I have pretty partner to lead me, so I just tap my pretty heels nervously to a nonexistent beat.  I rub my Kat Von D lipstick around for comfort, and it's go time.  We walk up a short staircase, that intimidates me and my three inch heels.  I start overthinking the face I should be making.  Seriously, what face am I supposed to make.  Should I fake a smile, or do an embarrassed face that also involves a smile;  I have lots of expressions.  I should have mentally prepared for the face I would make in this fairy tale church!  Oh dear, I have no idea what face I presented to the church, but I am now very unhappy about the length of the aisle.  All good and terrible things end; I part ways with my pretty partner to stand in front of a chair.  Then the moment comes, when Kori walks down the aisle with her Dad.  I feel like crying, but I am realize I am too happy for that.  She looks like a dream, and Evan incredibly happy.  This is the couple that accepts me as their little sister.  Evan is protective of me, we can talk about weird stuff like siblings.  Then Kori, I mean where do I even start?  She's so much like me.  We share so many qualities, traits, and skills.  But yet I look up to her, and I love her like the big sister I got to choose.  This marriage was a long time coming.  They made it work long distance for a while.  Until Kori swallowed her pride and took a huge chance and moved to NC to live with Evan.  She went to ECU, where she met me.  When we were lonely, we shared my twin bed.  The year after that we moved in together, shared tears, heartbreak, and family meals.  Now here I am, proud to share this moment with her and her loved ones.  I am warm down to my unmanicured toes.   At this moment I forget my selfish shit, and make way for the married couple.
Kori Paynic, Kori Paynic, Kori Paynic,  I repeat this phrase to get accustomed to the change in my contact book.  I don't pay much attention to the things being said on the stage.  Kori and Evan kneel and I suppose this is normal in a Catholic wedding.  No one was Catholic where I grew up.  If they were, they told people they were Catholic, but also said they didn't go to church.  There wasn't a Catholic church in my town, if there was I never heard of it.  Everything is lovely in this fairy tale church, and I am sure the priest singing was lovely to some people.  I was definitely caught off guard by this.  Maybe I should have paid closer attention during the whole rehearsal thing.  His singing is, well, acapella, and damn boy that is a bold move.  I do not laugh, but mask it with a smile that is way too enthusiastic.  There are candles and wine involved and well I love those things.  I especially loved staring at Kori and her insanely gorgeous dress.  I spend most of my time staring at her, she really is a sight.  I play with the flowers in my lap to keep me from doing anything un-lady like.  I take glances at the other bridesmaids to make sure I am doing everything correctly.  The ceremony seems short, they always do.  So much planning and work for only thirty minutes!  Now the modelesque couple walks down the aisle joined by the hand.  We greet them outside of the church with paper machete to toss.  I am ready to cheer for the couple as they walk out of the church together.  I stand with my bridesmaid in crime, Sara.  We laugh and celebrate the day together.  Our hair perfectly curled and shadowed eyes, and dark lips match, but we have our differences.  She is smaller than me by a quite a few inches, bleached blonde hair, pale skin, and an understanding of how to have fun.  She is far superior to me on the ins and outs of weddings.  She grabs my hand with a bit of rage, as we are all hungry.  She asks, "Where's the trolley".  She has an excitement in her eyes that I mimic back, and I start to find myself eager for the celebration to come.
Now trolley is not a part of my wedding vocabulary.  It is not every wedding you get to ride on a fancy trolley, that is modeled from a decade where people rode in 'trolleys'.  I do not know exactly what decade that is, but I can tell you the seats are made of wood and the outside hues of red and green.  I feel quite fancy in my clothes as it is, now I step onto a lovely trolley.  There is also food aboard this thing too, all the more reason to hurry on.  I find my wedding supplies bag from inside the back room of the church.  I pause for a minute to go over a few facts.  I know Jesse is going to be on this trolley, without this girlfriend of his.  I know I need a drink terribly bad, and since you are reading the inner workings of my mind you probably agree with that statement.  There is also the fact that I am witnessing a marriage, and I would very much like to celebrate.  I must add that I have not eaten, and I am hungry.  This "not eaten thing" could present as a fact and a problem.  Alcohol without food, or enough food at that, could result in a very annoying and silly girl.  When we get to the trolley most of the groomsmen are seated in the back with the cooler and the platter of subs.  My eyes skim over available seats.  Sara pulls me in a seat that happens to be in the middle of bus.   Whew, someone hands me a beer, I take what I can get.  Kori and Evan are still in the church getting pictures taken.  Someone opens the sub platter, I scarf this down and hope it's enough for my ensuing alcohol consumption.  Me and Sara are back at our teeny bopper lingo that we are so fond of.  We laugh and sip on our beer. There is talk among the wedding party that there is quite a limited selection of alcohol.  The conspiracy of it becomes known.  Kori and Evan do not want the wedding party too rowdy before the actual wedding.  Part of the itinerary includes three hours between the wedding and the reception.  That leaves a lot of time for the wedding party to, well, get drunk.  So a plan is being made that it's probably best if we stop at market as to not run out of alcohol.  We all agree that we are not at risk for getting drunk with fingers crossed behind our backs.
Some time passes and a charming, elegant man waltzes on the bus.  He runs his hand through his hair as he walks and sits opposite of me and Sara.  The very man that I am babbling on about in so many words.  I know you may think, what did this girl expect?  She knew he would be on this fancy bus, why is she making this a deal.  Okay, I just didn't expect to sit basically right next to him!  I mean you remember my strategy of ignoring him right?  This could prove difficult with him sitting right next to me.  And it is understood, between both of us, that we are acquaintances, which he may not be able to say for the other people on the fancy bus.  So that leaves me awkwardly smiling in search for a beverage to correct my anxious stomach of butterflies,  I try to continue with the 'ignore the handsome man sitting across from me' strategy.  Kori and Evan's entrance interrupts my awkwardness.  Now we are cheers-ing and celebrating the knot they've tied between them.  I feel like I am in a perfect wedding magazine.  The whole day has been picture perfect. The afternoon light shining through the windows of the trolley on Koris silky wedding dress.  Everyone is all smiles as they pop a bottle of champagne, and we pass around little cups filled with bubbles.

Infatuation

INfatuation

It's a tricky situation, infatuation.  A beautiful man or woman hypnotizes you based solely on looks, a voice, or small interaction.  A nice smile, green eyes, tan skin, a sexy accent, some special swag.   You instantly are a bit in love, a love that will fade over time without any sustenance.  But at first sight, this person looks really good.  You make start have visions, bodies brushing up, a kiss, or whatever else that I won't discuss in much detail.  You are uncertain of many things, personality, goals, history, but you're attraction stands.   Imagination fluttering away, you feel a rush of adrenaline.  By that time, what will it take to undo that attraction?

Here's a story to describe the situation

He will never love me.  He would have sex with me.
His name is Phillip.  He is sexy, and puerto rican.  He calls me honey, and beautiful, and attractive.  He is lively and fun.  He is confident and cocky.  He knows what he wants and doesn't compromise.  He takes but may not be as keen to give back.  He is just stoic enough to not show vulnerability.  He will put you down just enough by talking about other women and dissing your culture, to make you insecure.  He won't make eye contact to show disinterest, once again making you feel less than valued.  He will compliment to reel you back in.  Mixed signals are must have of his.

Here is what I want to do.  Heart breaker.  I want to give a taste of his own medicine.  But I won't, I do not need to be responsible for spreading poison.

PBR Sweatshirt

I was with Nate that summer.  The summer after my senior year of college.  I slacked off a bit and changed my major so I had one extra summer before I had to start "real" life.  The life that involves a real career, and involves living off a paycheck not student loans.  Anyways I worked at an aerial  ropes course.  And when I wasn't working on the course I was at the beach, working on a tan, swimming, or trying to surf.  I kept a bikini in the back of my 1995 jeep at all times.  I had a crusty, sandy beach towel, and a stack of old and new CDs.  Nate would ride in my car and we would sing Modest Mouse, and he would drink capri-suns.  We worked together at the ropes course, so sometimes we sped to work together.  He'd always have a silly hat on and a sunburned face.  There wasn't much about him that stood out.  Honestly, he had little going on with him at all.  He was 21 and really didn't have a plan for his life.   He knew two things: he liked to surf, and sleep.  He wasn't the most good looking guy.  But he drew me in because he was mysterious and kind of sad.  He didn't pay much attention to anyone.  I started to test the waters, casually overhearing conversations about him.  I would eat lunch when he did, or ask him the really unoriginal questions like how is work.  One time I asked if we would ride together to get sushi with a friend.  He agreed, we met in the parking lot of the local Belk store.  On the way home, I parked the car.  We just talked.  I could tell he didn't want to leave.  I don't know why I liked him.  I still don't really.  He was cute, but I may have just like him because he was a challenge.  That is a really dumb reason to like someone, trust me I know.  I guess I never sat down and truly asked myself, why him?  Another reason I liked him was because he was a "beach" guy.  I was in the cliche of girls that like the surfer boy with no ambition, that has some life philosophy about being free and not conforming.  Nate was kind of an ass-hole.  He would say shit just to keep me hanging on.  "I really want to be with you, but I need lots of time alone."  "I am an ass-hole, but I like you." There was always a "but" involved.  He used to make me so angry too, because he never gave straight answers.  So we would end up having the same conversations over and over.  We never got anywhere.  So anyone that is actually reading this can tell this relationship ends.  And they would be correct.  I was so fed up with his crooked answers and indifference.  He didn't want to break up with me, but he didn't want to be with me either.  I still don't know how that is.  I tried my hardest to make him break-up with me.   I wanted him to actually care enough to end a relationship.  He never did.  I broke up with myself.  It seems silly now, but Nate broke my heart.  Not like a life changing heart break, but one that sucks really bad.
I made some pretty good friends that summer, one being Sarah.  Sometimes friendships start when a relationship ends.  When Nate and I started to fight, I'd talk to Sarah.  Usually it was nighttime on the beach.  We'd talk about anything.  We got really close, I felt happier with her.  I remember we took a drive one night to see Nate.   She drove me to his house.  We even parked outside of his house.  But it was a beautiful night, and if I talked to him it would all be ruined.  The weather didn't match the climate between me and Nate.  I said fuck it.  Me and Sarah drove around some more.  She didn't judge me for showing up at Nate's and leaving, even though I was being a coward about it.  She showed me things about her past.  We pulled over on the side of the road.  She showed me where her ex boyfriend asked her to prom.  It was nice to think about her life instead of my crappy relationship.  We were quiet when we were driving.  We both had things on our minds I guess.  She drove a convertible, so we could see the stars above us.  Its funny looking back at the moment, because now I know her so much better. We weren't strangers then, but compared to how we are now, we might as well have been.
Everyone I worked with was wonderful. We all liked good company, exercise, food, beer, and summer.   I wish the summer didn't have to end.  I really left a good thing, but it all ended.   That's how it is in a place that runs based on the tourism of summer.  I still keep in touch with a few people, Sarah included, but not the surfer guy Nate.  He later started dating a girl that we worked with the past summer.  She was the dancer, very skinny and toned.  It's annoying when your ex starts dating anyone, especially when you still have feelings for that person.  It also hurts when you are the one "replaced".  You start asking, "why her?"  He didn't want to be with me; she must be better.  The whole thing is pathetic.  I mean really, am I twelve?  But I did/do entertain those questions, which lead to insecurities and a bunch of starring at her instagram filled with pictures in bikinis.  I picture her in his sweatshirts as they drive to the beach to surf.  His stupid PBR sweatshirt.  Fuck him.   Just writing this down evokes more jealousy in me.
Here's the shit that bothers me.  He still erks me.  Not many people make me this annoyed.  I mean I haven't seen him in over year.   This is ridiculous.  All memories surrounding Nate are green with envy, bright, glowing green.

Red Lips

Well, here I am on the last night before the last exam of my undergraduate degree, thinking of a small diner.  I sit there with my hair in an up-do.  Fancy makeup, high heels, and a kick ass body.  Lips are soft and dark as they leave mark on the white tea cup.  I don't know why I am dressed this way.  All done up.  If looks told stories, I'd tell one of lies.  I look like a perfectly kept mansion.  I feel like a slum house.  All is a mask.  I don't know who I am with at the diner.  But whoever it is, I'm sorry.  I don't know what I want, who I want, or where I am going.  Im just a mess in disguise.  I want to be better than all this.  My sickness and sadness are covering me.  I can't wait to get out of here.  I'm scared leaving won't make a difference.  What's next?  Will I ever be that beautiful girl in the diner?  Everything is changing.  But I'm more broken than ever.  I was supposed to be her. My expectations were unreal before.  Now what I have become is inadequate. 

Stay and lie

I'm so tired of being called beautiful and amazing and talented.  Why would you leave me then?  Please spare me the thought of you believing I'm something special.  Instead be honest with yourself and me.  Don't just say things to make me stay or to win the girl.  Don't leave me and come back.  If I wasn't enough for you to stay, then I'm not enough for you to come back. Then you change your mind.   You want me now.  And I'm still a mess, trying to pick myself up.  It's not the same.  I didn't make it hard, you just needed to stay.  Everything you said about how great and perfect I was means nothing now.  This could have been special and real. You decided to leave me.

 I was all broken then, now I'm better.  I can tell I wasn't seeing you clearly.  I was dreaming of a happy ending.  Reality comes seeping in, as it always does.  My eyes are kept open.  I'm no longer in a dream.  Wide awake, I can see you clearly now.  I'm trying to scrape off the images of us. You know when you held onto me so gently that letting go of me was simple.  You barely left a fingerprint. What a skill you have of stringing me along.  It seems your goal was to never make me feel satisfied and to not let me leave. You did just enough to keep me in the middle. Oh no, did you get off balance? Did the scale tip too far? If you ever could give a straight answer maybe I'd ask you. All I know is I'm here writing down all this, and you are in bed probably distanced from the memories of me, the girl you called perfect and amazing and talented. The same girl you left and came back for. I'm still the same the girl, maybe just a little better off. You didn't stay, neither did I. 

Live nursing

In nursing school I find that the things I love are similar to things that my class mates love. Academically we are in the same boat. We have the same clinical experience for the most part. Personality wise we are very different. I bring some good aspects to the table. I think it has little to do with skill and technique as a new nurse. It's more than that. It's how you look at a human being and a sick human being at that. How you respond. What's your initial reaction? What's in your heart about the sick? Do you blame it on lifestyle or ignorance? How can you, as a person, empathize with this person in front of you? I think I've realized that I can do that. I may not always get the nursing diagnosis right, but I genuinely care for that person.

One of the many things I love about nursing is we get to see all types of people. Disease doesn't discriminate. In other jobs I've worked at you see the same type of person or family. As nurses we get to see society, and not just a part. Yes we may see more of one part due to risk factors and such, but we take the drape down and see people, of all types, vulnerable in similar situations. We get to see humanity at the core. And I hope we treat everyone the same. 

I am Saul

I'm trying to repent. I am Saul with the Amalekites. I have disobeyed God. I put romantic love over his commands. "For rebellion is like the sin divination and arrogance like the evil of idolatry." I have rebelled against God. I said to Him, I will date a non-Christian.  I tried to rationalize and bargain. God doesn't want my sacrifices and bargains, He just wants me to follow his commands. It's true, He still loves me.  It's true that I could never measure up to deserve to be His daughter. Everything may be permissible, but not everything is beneficial. I didn't do any good as I disobeyed God. Now I am hurt. How blessed I am to be here with God. My whole life He has been rescuing me, bringing me back to Himself. How can I possibly be so lucky? 

Mailboxes

So it's really over this time. There's not much to say.  There's nothing to figure out.  The envelope is sealed.  I dropped you off into the mailbox and walked away.  You'll sit there with all the other mail I've given up.  You'll be about your life.  All I'll have of you are the memories that are tucked and contained in the confines of an envelope.  There are things I'll miss. There are things I'll regret and lose sleep over.  Ill wonder how your sleeping and if you've been happy.  I'll close my eyes and imagine your face.  But I'll end each thought with how you care more about yourself than me and how your words didn't have meaning.  I'll remember how I felt when you'd leave me and never look back.  When relationships end I feel my chest tighten and I wonder if I could feel as strongly for anyone else.  I feel jealous of all the other girls that will be with you.   I worry about how this disappointment will affect future relationships.  You may forget about me.  You might see me and feel nothing.  I'll have to accept that, and accept that for whatever reason you didn't want me.  I will have to adjust once again, setting my mind on myself.  I'll be trying to sort through all the things I was probably running from when I met you.  Here again I am alone.  I'm just walking, no mail in my hand, no hand to hold.

some good things in a sea of mistakes

Leanne, I like you because you're an honest, genuine person. You're smart, beautiful, hilarious, talented, and just pretty much all around amazing. 

Mmk Nate so, I like you because you use your words sparingly.  It makes me feel important to hear from you. You have very pretty eyes. I like your frame and how I can see your ribs. And your small hands. You're a protector and you value honor.  You are different. And you're generally okay with that.  I'm not looking for the perfect guy or someone who has it all together.  I like that you don't listen to stupid music.  I feel like I can be myself around you. 

Leanne, your face you make when your confused is cute as hell. I like hearing all your facts that you say when I do something dumb or just randomly, even though I don't always listen to that advice. 

dirty hands

Do you realize the wonderful things in front of you right now?  The beauty of your environment? The wonderful company in your presence? Do you realize that I am here?  I look at you and I see something so wonderful.  I feel your hands and wonder all the things they've touched.  I envision them dancing along my body and through my unruly hair.  How do you see your hands?  Do you see them with blood and sickness? You can wipe them clean on my skin.  I'll take your sin and regret, and we'll let it go together.  We can rinse ourselves clean.  Don't be afraid to touch me.  I'm not scared of the things you've done or thought.
You are not who you were.  I see you for what you are.  The things you dwell in are not where your physical body is.  But your mind is soaking in the regrets and things of your past.  I watch as this happens.  I stand by your body, but I don't fit in your already full mind.  You forget easily about my presence.  All your empty promises, resting in my hands.  I am tense.  I wait there staring at your shell of a body.  You aren't really here with me.  I'll touch you just to see if I can startle you back to life.  I fail again.  I feel inadequate.  I wonder what I can do better to meet your needs.
We are together; I get as close to you as possible, hoping that you can feel my warmth and want to let me in.  When I lay beside you I can't rest, again I am tense.  You sleep so easily.  You turn so easily away from me.  I watch as you pull away from me and curl up into yourself.  You do this unconsciously and consciously.  I reach for you, and you flinch at my touch.  I get out of bed.  You don't miss my warmth or touch; you don't budge.  I go for a walk and clench my hands around my arms.  I convince myself that you want me around.  I crawl back into bed trying to form my body around yours.  I hardly fit, but I manage a few hours of uncomfortable sleep.  I just want you to sleep well and to know that I care for you.  That someone cares.
We've seen some of the same things.  I don't tell you though.  I still not sure why.  You tell me of your depression.  I just listen.  You need someone to hear you.  I don't respond, because I relate so much.  I've learned to love the parts of me that get so sad.  They contrast well with my happiness.  I like to think that those who feel great sadness can also feel great happiness in the same way.  I used to want to die, to drive my car off the road or jump of that building.  I used to get close to the edge.  I would surprise myself with how little the closeness of death scared me.  I was numb.  I remember feeling so dirty and gross inside that I didn't bother actually caring about how I looked on the outside.  Life was exhausting, food wasn't enjoyable, I didn't want to ruin my friends time so I hid in bed.  I would cry.  My neighbors could hear me, they knock on the door.  I didn't want to answer because I didn't want to lie.  I was tired of saying I'm okay.  Yeah, I know depression.  I know that part of you.  But I didn't tell you that I did.
I want so badly for you to talk to me; to tell me of your day and the dreams you had last night.  Were they bad?  Could you sleep?  But more than that, I wanted you to want to tell me.  When you tell me things I feel important because you don't say much to anyone else.  I feel special hearing stories from your past.  I am not sure if I am comfortable enough to tell you mine.  I've never told anyone.  I am silent.  I think maybe you are too full of your own problems to fit mine in.  I am easily penetrated with others problems.  But you don't have any more room.  I've learned to live happily with all my baggage, I don't know if I'll tell anyone all of it.
I remember how nervous I was when you asked me to be your girlfriend.  I was right to be nervous.  I can see that now.  I know that relationships are hard, that they hurt, that I am scared.  My hands trembled then, and they tremble now I as put it all on paper. The sky was beautiful then and it still is now.  Nothing changes with my pain, you certainly don't change with my pain.
Things got bad.  My insecurities are surfacing.  I just blurt out all my fears.  You keep looking away from me.  I feel so ugly when you turn your head, I am not worth looking at.  I can tell you are angry, you lie and say you aren't.  I hate myself for making you angry, but I can't stop myself.  I want so badly to make things to work.  I want solutions.  Once the words are out, I regret it.  You were with me then, now you're gone.   Everything I said about school, and stress, and breaking down.  All I wanted to hear from you is I want to be with you.  If you need me at school, I'll be there.  You say nothing close.  I feel sick to my stomach.  The tears keep falling.
From then on, I knew.  You stop talking to me.  I feel sick whenever you are around.  I can feel the oncoming pain of the words you will say to me.   You work inches away, but I might as well be three hours away at school.  I have to struggle to hold back the tears.
You keep me waiting, I grow eager to hear what I did wrong.  I want so badly to fix the problem.  I just want to care for you.  I wish I could be what you want.  I try to convince myself that you still want me.  But deep down I know.  I finally just show up at your house.  I sit outside till you sister lets me in.  Its the last time I'll be in bed with you.  I know it.  The way you look at me has changed. I feel small and annoying to you.  I wish I could cover up my face.  You say you want to be with me, but everything else you say proves that wrong.  I take in all in.  I pace my words so I don't fall apart in front of you.  Everything is stirring up inside.  You sit up in bed.  Its over now, you want to talk about how it will be when it's over.  I feel sick.  I realize you don't want me, the dreaded truth is knocking on my door step.  I hate this feeling.  I get up.  I want to run away from it all.  I hate this.  I want to get out of that house and out of your disapproving looks.  All you want is to not feel guilty. I can't comfort you.  I feel like shit.
I'm in my car and you followed me there. You want me to make you feel better, but I can't to that.  You never said the words "I want to break up".  You ask why I am so upset.  You try to make me feel stupid for being sad.  I realize that you won't be sad over me.  I start to really feel the nausea.  How could I mean so little? Was everything a lie?   I stop.  I realize that I like me better in this situation.  All I want to do is love people.  I care deeply for others.  I love people. I know this world is a shit hole of fucked up people.  But it's home to us.  And I want to help others.  I want their home to be good.  I like that I feel sad in the moment.  Because, you know what, I might be hurt more often, but one day I am going to love people so well.

Jesse

You're windy and proper, and messy and neat.  You've got a quiet smirk, but your face is so damn loud.  You tower over me, but I've got you beat with words.  I'd much rather hear yours though.
You're better at watching than I am, but I like when you're watching me.
Just go ahead and stare into the distance, I'll memorize your profile.  You can cross your legs, and I'll fold mine.
My toes will brush against you, you'll notice but won't move.  The slit of my skirt gets higher and higher, but you keep your eyes on my face.  I'm not drunk anymore, I probably never was, but I didn't want to take you home.  Blessings come with courthouse benches.  There's not enough justice in the world, I feel at peace at your side.
You make sure I'm not taken by some other guy, in a coy way.  No, there isn't a man in the trashcan facing us.  I laugh because there no way I'd be with you if that was the case.  The temptation is real.
I can talk about nothing forever, random thoughts are never scarce.  I'll reposition; so when you look at me you'll see me wholly.  My feet rest in your lap, how nice, for me at least.  Not sure why my shoes are ten feet away, but I'm sure you'll fetch them.  I'll turn my head real quick, you'll catch me off guard.  You're suddenly so much closer, full tilt I catch up.  No objections from me, you could kiss me till the sun came up and then even after that.  I make sure my hands wrap around you so you can't escape me.  You slow me down and kiss me gently with your hand on my chin, I feel small but I like it. It's not a game, but you win.  Your hands on my thighs,  I wish they were covering my skin.  It's chilly outside but you're making me hot.  I want to crawl on top of you, then I remember I'm modest, shit.  You kiss my neck, I can feel my veins pulsing, and adrenaline flooding.  I hope I am okay at kissing you, I feel like attractive people should be rewarded somehow.  People with good music taste should also be rewarded, and people who are adorable dancers should also be compensated for their efforts; I hope I succeed in this.  Keep kissing me, and we'll be on the same page.  I'll pull away to tease you, to see how far you'll come.  Each time I see you smile, my heart is warm.  Good things don't last forever.  I know you're leaving tomorrow, I know you live 15 hours away, but right now I feel on fire.
How long have we been there? I'm not keeping track. All the beer inside me is calling.  I'll leave your side for squatting purposes, check the cleavage, and toss the hair.  I'll come up from behind you, barefeet, skirt in hand.  Staring at your silhouette, damn, speechless.  I'll probably paint that sight one day.
Then we are on the steps, getting closer to the car, getting closer to sunrise, the birds are reminding us of the time.  You ask me if I am cold, you have little idea of how I'm incredibly warm I am in your presence.  We make our way to the car, I'm not ready to take you home yet.
It doesn't matter who starts the kissing this time, you already broke the bridge.  I'm smaller than you again, you tower over me.  Again, I like it.  I leverage my way on the ledge so our mouths are at similar heights.  I feel less small.  I push against my car, we're equal.  Our bodies are very close at this point, my hand runs down your chest.  I feel the buttons one at a time, I wonder what it would be like to unbutton them.  I remember I'm modest, and slow myself down, shit.  I held on to your every word before, now I'm holding on to your every move.
I like looking over at you as I drive.  You've entered my world, my car, my city, my music.  I wonder what it'd be like to be in your world.  What'd I'd give to be there you'll never know.  I imagine it briefly, it looks nice in your world.  Damn it, we're home.
The sun is on the rise.  We approach my apartment.  I hold the keys, so I open the door.  I can't do that yet, I don't want to take you home, give you up to the couch.  I turn, this is the last time to kiss you.  I've been so spoiled tonight.  You kiss me so well.  We have one more kissing spell.  Your hands resting at my waist, I try to take it all in, and feel it all.  The worst part of the night is ending there, on my doorstep.  You're worth every second.
Things change when inside, your dad on the couch, sister on the mattress, we take turns in the bathroom, I wash off the makeup on my face, and brush away your taste.  I take off my appealing clothes.  I look more like myself, I stare at myself in the mirror, I wonder what happens next.  I use your phone as a flashlight to salvage pillows and blankets and a sleeping bag from my room.  I debate, putting my number in your phone under a cheesy name like "hottest girl you've ever kissed", "the best dancer ever in the universe", I decide to leave the ball in your court.  I like sport metaphors.
I'm back in your presence.  I see you in the kitchen, you're so tall and handsome.  You like a model, its annoying, but I got to spend all night with you.  I try to feel honored somehow, I know I can't have you.  You try to take the floor, but I insist.  In an ideal world we both take the floor, but then I remember I am modest, shit.
You move your pillow so you can face me, I like looking at your face.  That same quiet smirk.  You have the blanket up to your chin.  You're are so adorable, I'm thinking about being under the covers with you, I turn to the left, to slow my imagination.  Bam, Mr. Rogers kills the mood. That's a lie, I'd make out with you in a heart beat.  But lets pretend, Mr. Rogers could kill our mood.  You're watching me again, I keep your attention with American Sign Language.  I start signing words like sleep and good night. Then, I tell you are handsome.  If I knew the signs for something like sexy, adorable, irresistible I'd use those too.
We are both tired.  I can see it in your eyes, why are we human? Why is sleep important?  I settle for reality.  I force myself to settle down.  I feel a little too high for the floor.  I watch Mr. Rogers until I dose off.  I usually look forward to dreaming, but in nights like these, I'd rather relive the night.

I am small

I cried on the way home from you. I'm empty, yet tears still are held in when I am with you. I step away and I begin to empty again.  There is so much more for me to discover about you.  But the wall between us is so high.  And I can't feel your affection through it, and I can't see how you feel about me.
It's at night that I think.  I look objectively at the day, and try to see life for what it really is, not just how I feel about it.  You hardly talked to me today.  I don't know how, but your life seems to wear you out.  I wonder if you want to know about me, how I am, or if you care about how fucked up my mind is.  I think, maybe tomorrow he will try to be with me, maybe make a special plan, or ask me about my childhood.  He doesn't.  I envision conversations in my head of me telling him these things.  I don't speak for fear of not being cared about. Then the tears.
I look at your silhouette. I want to touch you and feel your warmth, to rub my fingers over your thin frame.  I smile at your presence, blushing as I think of me staring at you.  You feel blank and cool towards me, fleeting from my touch.  I'd very much like to fall in love one day.  Whether it is with you I don't know; but if this is how love starts, I am very confused.
I need to tell you all these things.  But I am afraid I don't mean enough to you.  When I tell you these things you will surely leave me.  I don't know if I am ready for that.  But you aren't really here anyways, you won't see the aftermath because you don't see the mess thats right in front of you.
I've been convincing myself that my thoughts and insecurities are foolish.  I've rethought this, and I find that I am very much justified in my sadness over us. You'll say that you will call, you don't, you say you want to see me, you don't.  You don't come to me, I come to you with or without an invitation.
I wish I could be as close to you as your sadness or your exhaustion.  I don't think I will replace those things, or fit in between them.  I am small, but they are just too big.

Enabler

You are like a dog that is so happy to see me when I go into a room.  You wag your tail, whimper, and gladly let me pet you, but what you don't do is of great relevance.  You don't come find me, you don't come when I call your name, you are uninterested when I am laughing or crying.  Unless I come all the way to you, you are indifferent to my existence.

It is very unfortunate that I want to keep entering the room and giving you exactly what you want, to give you love that you do not reciprocate.  Pouring love on you like a waterfall, you like the river at the bottom, getting filled over and over, and me the waterfall giving and giving.  The question is who is to blame. 

I enable.  I give you no reason to pour into me, you will get what you want with no effort.  You take.  You find no reason to come find me when I call your name or when I cry.  

So what is it then?  Do I stop coming?  Will you miss me then?  Only time will tell.  This waterfall has run dry. 

Oh to wait on you.

Maybe I messed up. At this point I don't know. Too much time has passed for me to make a rational decision.  But, I realize that it is okay to mess it up, and it always has been.  I gave my emotions and words away.  At least now we are connected in some small way, a frail little string connects me to you.  That's all I have now, a scrawny thread with a message thats held in your hands.   I hope you can't feel my hands shaking, and I hope you can't see my cheeks change colors, and I hope you can't hear my heart racing.  If you did, you'd know how extremely strange I am, how nervous I get, and how much I have to learn.

You’re Beautiful by Phil Wickham

“I see You there hanging on a tree
You bled and then you died and then you rose again for me
Now You are sitting on Your heavenly throne
Soon we will be coming home
You’re beautiful”

~You’re Beautiful, Phil Wickham

Fogged Glass

There on the other side of the window
I'm no longer in control
All I can do is wait
You're there but you're much further than the day I met you
On the other side of the glass
Hands pressed tightly and fogged glass
Anxiously I still wait
You go about you're life
Three years have passed
I'll never know if I cross your mind
but you stay on mine

You look the same to me
Still so charming
Confident and happy
You may be a different person
But to me you are still the same
Still alive through it all
I've thought of you often through the years
It didn't matter if I was with someone else
I could never rid of the thought of us
Silly and strange but true
I'm waiting on a miracle

Your young memories are vivid
Especially the firsts
You were my first
The first to make me feel special
And to make me feel lovely
To say I am beautiful
And to care about me like a man should
Smart and confident
You looked at only me
Those blue eyes on mine
God you were handsome

Living out a song

You know those songs you hear that take you to a different time in your life.  You can close your eyes and see the exact place you were when the song connected what you heard and how you felt.  Somehow the words or the music is intertwined in your memories-- all tied together.  A few chords can trigger a tangent in your day.  Depending on which memory is evoked, it may be painful or happy or maybe you're not sure how you feel.

I have hundreds of these songs.  One in particular brings me back to summer nights in the Blue Ridge mountains.  Cool nights and soft breezes. My hair down and long, blowing in the wind.  It was just me looking up at the stars.  God, it was beautiful.  Some of my favorite moments include being alone, gazing at something beautiful and smiling.  Smiling because life can be so beautiful.  Smiling because I am overwhelmed at my luck in the world; that I am sitting and staring at something so amazing I couldn't fathom it's creation.  That night I was smiling at the trees, the stars, the sound of the wind, the the reflection of the moon on the lake, my toes on an old wooden bench, my long and cozy sweater. Makes me want to go back there and live it all again.  I can even feel my hope.  I had just finished my freshman year of college, so naive and innocent.  At that time I'd never been in a relationship with a boy, lived in an apartment, had a broken heart, or broke another's heart.  I remember thinking I could sit there forever staring at the creation of God.  I was young. I was happy.  I was living out a song.

Tattoo of a hopeless romantic.

Take a note. A note that was written to you on a first encounter with your future husband or possibly the last encounter before the phrase "I do". Tattoo it before your wedding day, and keep it hidden until you walk down the isle. He'll see it on you in his hand writing.  Wouldn't that be beautiful?  I'm saving notes.

I found this idea on tumblr.

could be said

July 22 2013
Old stuff. I like it though.

I'm not going to say that I like you. Because I don't know you enough to tell.  And I'm not going to say it's practical or that it makes sense, but I've been in this situation before. I didn't say how I felt because I thought there's no way that it would work. Now I regret it, and I wish I'd have said what I thought. Because maybe I was worth it, and maybe these things aren't supposed to make sense or be practical. And if you don't agree, my night won't be ruined. But I've always had a little crush on you. Maybe it's because your older, or my sister talks about what a solid guy you are. I really don't know, but I liked being with you, and I'd like to do that again.

Goals are good.

It isn't quite new years yet, but it's time for some good ole fashion goal setting.  After a break up you start thinking about what you really want and who you really are. You start pondering the universe and being more critical at the mirror.  Questioning every move you make and replaying certain parts. And well with all that going on it's a wonder I have time to write at all.  But alas, I am here again after a long break.  Well, well.
Goals. Here we go.
Run the Krispy Kreme Challenge: It isn't too far fetched.  I definitely need a lot of work to run 5 miles and eat a dozen doughnuts in 1 hour.  I have been running three times a week. I run about three or so miles three times a week.  I need to speed up my pace, but I have till February 8th.  Heres to running and barfing all in a hour.
Two A's: Nursing school isn't easy yall.  I really have to work hard, but I want two A's again.  It's doable. I know I have an A in at least one class. I just need one more.
Travel for the summer: I am not sure where I am going. But I want to go somewhere. I hope it is out of the country!
Certified Nursing Assistant test: I really need to take the CNA test.  I'd like to take the exam and get a CNA job for the summer.  This would mean I get some experience, money, and network.

Whew.. that is a lot to do...