The story I don’t want to write is the story I wish I could write. It’s the one that keeps me up at night. The one I keep dancing around. The story of us.
I spend so much time trying to convince myself it was nothing. I’m having limited success. I despise you. I never want to see you or hear from you again.
Lies I tell myself.
I don’t want to write about you because I don’t want to remember how much fun it was and how alive you made me feel because the reality of the us makes me feel like a fool.
I was wrong and I don’t like being wrong.
I want the story of us to be over. I don’t want to feel these feelings or think these thoughts or deal with this bullshit anymore.
The story of us is irrelevant because the reality of us is nonexistent.
I’ve been writing your name
in my journals
(on and off)
for as long as I’ve had journals.
You were always there.
And you’ll never not be here.
I hate it.
I don’t hate you.
How could I ever hate you.
You knew me when
I was shy
and not popular
and had hair that didn’t fit with the trend.
I don’t love you.
How could I ever love you.
You knew I cared
and yet you teased
everything you wanted out of me.
It’s my fault too.
It takes two.
But I do miss you.
How could I ever not.
You knew me singularly
and I don’t want to stop thinking
about those nights
and that sunrise.
Maybe one day
I’ll dream about someone else.
I’ll write about someone new.
But until then
I’m sad to see the summer end.
It really is one of my favorite times of year.
Give me warm, sunny weather
and I can take on the world.
This summer was wild.
I learned a few things.
If your body says no, listen.
If your mind says go, take a breath.
When your heart says yes, that’s how you know.
Cheers to lessons learned.
I woke up feeling rather uninspired. The day felt more like a Monday and less like a summer holiday. It felt gray, dreary, humid. It was also very early. I set alarms for 7:15am and 7:30am every day. Almost every day. What can I say? I love mornings.
This morning I dragged my ass to the gym because it’s right there and even if I do the absolute minimum, it’s better than the alternative, which would be absolutely nothing. Drip by drip. Rome wasn’t built in a day. You got this girl. Also, your body is amazing.
I’m figuring out new habits/routines that work best for me right now. I’m creating space for the new and part of that is letting go of the old to free up space that has always been there. I’m accepting the fact that I’m not going to be the person who is home for dinner. At this particular moment in my life.
My body is tired. I didn’t sleep well. Also, it took me for-fucking-ever to even fall asleep because I was anxious about the cockroach I watched scuttle across my bedroom floor. My initial thought was oh you must be joking, immediately followed by why me and a slew of profanities before I resigned to the fact that living in New York means living amongst the roaches so you might as well get some sleep so you can put your best face forward and face whatever tomorrow may bring.
Labor Day is a weird holiday.
than play it safe.
Say what I mean
than stick to the script.
Stand by my word
than give up when it gets hard.
Love and lose
How will I know?
How have I known in the past?
does it really even matter
since every time I thought I knew
I was wrong?
She said she wouldn’t have told me unless it was serious.
What does it do to me?
What does just the thought of you do to me?
It doesn’t matter.
There’s something about
walking down the streets of Chelsea
after too much pasta
and a great bottle of wine
(one of my first-love producers)
on a clear night at the end of the summer.
so pay attention before it’s gone.
There’s something about
being kissed on the streets of Chelsea
after too much thinking
and a good amount of talking
(one of my most-practiced pastimes)
on a summer night when things felt clear.
so let it feel good while it lasts.