Archive for ‘deeper thoughts.’

May 21, 2013

Of Breakdowns and God.

I sit up. I breathe for a minute. I lift my shaking hands to my face. I push my tear-wet hair back with weak fingertips. I pull pieces of matted hair off my chin. I push the tears back away from my swollen eyes and hold my fingertips to the puffy skin under my eyes. My neck is wet, my chest, my baby hairs. I slowly pull my legs around and cross them. My head is just too heavy to lift right now, but I open my eyes. Theres a little blood on my knee and some on the bathroom floor. I dont wish him to see me like this, tho he watched the whole thing. I’m embarrassed. I feel the most vulnerable I’ve ever felt. I always do infront of him. I hate my breakdowns. Espcially infront of him.

I can see him out of my peripheral vision. Hes sitting on the floor leaning on the wall. His knees are up. His arms are resting on his knees, but on hand is grabbing his chin. Hes watching me. Hes not moving. Just staring. I can tell his heart is racing by how heavy his chest is moving when he breathes. We sit in thick silence. That was a hard one. My chin starts to quiver and tears seep.

“please go…” I manage to whisper.
He says nothing. He doesnt move.

I lift my head and my eyes meet his. His eyes are deep and searching and intentional and they always take me by suprise, regardless the situation. His eyes are so deliberate and sensational and pleading and soft. His face is serious and panged with exhaustion. His brows are furrowed and the panes of his face bare straight lines from where his tears trampled his skin. He keeps staring, but I have to look away. He lets a deep breath out and drops his head to grab his hair and push it back. I rarely see him this distraught. I never see him this distraught unless its because of me.. of my episodes. Hes never at a loss of what to do, but when it comes to this, he feels helpless. Maybe even hopeless. And its always only becuse of the messes I make.

“just go.”
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I didnt mean what I said. Its just… I’m just… I’m sor-”
-Stop. You can’t hurt me enough for me to leave. You know this.
“you’re mad, arn’t you? ..please don’t be mad.”
He sighs. -Its hard to stay mad at you, but yea. I’m mad. I’m mad that you forget about me. I’m mad that you can live your life without me. I’m mad that the only time you ever want me around is when you’re losing control of your heart and your mind. I’m mad that you never open the doors for me.. it makes me feel unwelcome. Thats why I dont bother asking if I can come over anymore. But then, when I hear you screaming for me? when I hear you wailing in pain and I hear you thrashing yourself around? I can’t help myself. I can’t help myself, Gabrielle… I have to come. I have to be here. I have to sit here with you and I have to because I love you too much not to come. I’m yours. And you’re mine. Even when you don’t want me…

He doesn’t say much, but when he does.. its enough to murder me with guilt.
“I want you..” I plead.

Those words come from the marrow in my bones and are cloaked in pain and weigh heavy with desire for his approval. I want him so bad it hurts. I don’t like upsetting him. I hate myself when I do. He doesnt deserve this. I dont deserve him.
When he doesnt respond, I start to cry. I wipe the tears away with the back of my wrists. He gently takes me by forearms and pulls me into him. I can’t help the feeling of securtiy when he pulls me closer to him. I give in and collapse on his shoulder. He moves his legs closer to me, cradling my weight with his legs. He smells like the bedsheets of my soul. His skin is so warm, almost too warm. His jaw flexes and he leans his head back to the wall. He twirls a piece of my hair. Right here, right where I’m supposed to be, I feel loved. Like I was meant. As if I am on purpose.

-I want you, too. All the time. When I’m not around, its not because I don’t want to be. I want to waste all my time with you. I know your breakdowns, but I dont know what to do except sit here with you. And quit telling me to leave. Because I wont. Let me stay here with you. Let me be apart of you. Just please, let me take care of you. I know we have eternity, but let me be here until then. I love you, Gabrielle…

Oneday, it’ll be worth it. Oneday, your breakdowns will earn merit, your hatred for confusion will be soothed and confusion will be no more. Oneday, you’ll know peace like you’ve never felt… we all will.
I promise, you’ll be with me when I burn this world.

March 16, 2012

[ of angels of rain ]

sitting in the gray fog from the window.
she crosses her arms and holds her shoulders.
hanging on her clavicles.
she wonders if the sing song rhyme is true..

what if the raindrops are really the angels crying?

it makes sense. maybe she has a child’s perspective of all things extraterrestrial, but she believes the angels above, the God she wonders about, all the lost loved ones… she believes they can see us from heaven. She believes they swim thru clouds for fun and press loving foreheads with the lions.  she believes they come down here every once in awhile and kiss our tear soaked cheeks, come from behind us and wrap their holy ghost arms around us, tuck us in one last time….  

and maybe its only becuase shes human and knows nothing else, but she believes they have sad days too. days when they just can’t take the sadness of earth below them. and they weep. because maybe they see how sad we are and how much we just want to see them. the angels. our loved ones. maybe they arent sad tears, but knowing tears. like when baby falls and you cry sad knowing tears because you know hes okay, but you just cant take the pain of seeing him hurt. maybe this is the rain that falls. knowing tears of a more beautiful life awaiting.

He maybe built this place with His own hands, but He moved out a long time ago. 

there is nothing left on earth as it is in heaven…





October 4, 2011

[trying to find the light switch in here..]

I’m scratching myself raw.
viciously and meticulously trying to find me under my skin.
I’m in here somewhere….

I feel as tho this pilar of human flesh I have to cascade around in are hundreds of separate parts.
My mind panics..
My brain sends wrong messages..
My mouth explodes with words..
My bones crinkle under the sound of my unstitched tongue..
My muscles all pull in a different direction..
One knee buckles while the other stands strong..
My heart… my heart beats its off tempo song.
While I, out here, trying to make sense of it all, am left to orchestrate. 


have you ever been to a symphony?
You know that anxiety inducing few seconds right after the maestro raises his wand?


April 19, 2011

lets just forget yesterday…

>why can’t I so easily mimic nature?
let the old leaf die and let new begin.

what happens when you pull the bandaid off and theres still a wound?
what if there isnt a gash, but worse… a scar?
how do you take the time to let yourself heal?

no one has time anymore…

I just wish I would let myself come to the surface again… perhaps to see the light of day once more… perhaps not. I’ve grown a custom to the current. the undertoe. the muted sound of underwater pressure. I dread the inevitable. whats worse, I dread what could be. Not what is.

I envy you.
I envy our time.

April 4, 2011

pandora’s box…


i try to keep it locked.

i try to hush the evils inside.

i use coping methods to forcibly reduce my memories to white.

to empty.

like snow.

white.. cold.. empty snow.

i feel the love in my bones drain. I feel my bones crack and peel away like dead bark on trees.

i feel my lungs deplete air as if my mouth were screaming.

i close my eyes and let them fall.

let them soak back into my pores.

i feel my heart slowly give up.

the cello and violin play.

i can only hold the lid shut for so long until my muscles give way.

my box falls open and the memories escape.

they laugh at me.

taunt me.

bite me.

flapping their wings around my head, entangling themsleves in my hair.

these painful.. painful memories.

im only ever strong enough to last just a little longer than the last time. i have yet to find a lock strong enough to keep Pandora’s ….Gabrielle’s box locked forever.

come home Gregory… i need you now.
January 25, 2011



i sway.
back and forth
back and forth
back and forth
the warmth of your heart still burns in my chest.

September 19, 2010

…only in my photographs.

I know myself better than you will ever know me. The closest you will ever come to knowing my mind is thru my eyes. But I must admit… I am one to not believe that eyes are the windows to our souls. I believe that eyes are the “windows” only to our more true emotion. Even if it is true, an emotion does not define a soul. Emotions are fleeting… souls are constant.
Some cultures believe that cameras take a piece, if not all, of one’s soul. Some cultures believe that photographs are evil. Some believe that pictures are thieves. I do not believe they steal from us. I dont not believe they take hostage. I do not believe they conquer our souls.
However, I think they bare truths. More truths than our eyes. Some truths other people will not see. Some truths only ourselves will witness. I believe sometimes photos bare raw intensities about ourselves that sting, that heal, that anger or enlighten. I believe that photographs have the ability to sometimes show us fibers of our minds, hearts, and souls that we would never find in a mirror. Maybe because its a frozen image we cannot change like you could in a mirror’s reflection. Maybe its only there in a photograph because we cannot camouflage our emtion in that instant the shutter snapped. We cannot hide. It is there… staring at you… and not leaving. Even if it is a beautiful photograph, it can bare ugly truths. Truths that hurt. Truths that take us back to places we’d rather not travel to. Truths that seem pretty on the skin, but crack and crumble our bones. Truths that will forever remain frozen, haunted, and staring.

(taken 2007)

September 18, 2010

Daisies have shells too…

>When no one is looking, I sway.

When no one is looking, I kinda… dance.

When no one is looking, I open up and face everything with a delicate strand of hope. Strong for my size. For my size, not delicate at all.

When no one is listening, I hum. Sometimes I actually sing.

When no one is listening, I laugh at outloud. Or louder than usual.

When no on is listening, I cry. Weep. Let show in my eyes what is happening in my soul…

When I think I’m in my perfect solitude, I dance, I am strong yet, strong enough to be weak, I let melodies take me back, I remember how funny my laugh truly is…

Is it really possible that I dont know how to be this around other people?
When reality snaps back and I realize… Im not the only daisy in the field…
suddenly, my shell closes over. Is it sad that letting you in scares me? Even if we are identical life matches? Sometimes this shell closes even when I dont want it to.

Unfortunately, this daisy has a built in, relentless, preprogrammed forcefield.

Even daisies shells.

September 13, 2010


>I feel as tho I cant break down this barrier between myself and a happier “other side.” I get itchy. I tug at my hair. I clean maticulously. I sleep. I don’t leave the house. I can’t shake these thoughts, these emotions, this pathetic weepiness. I can’t get them off me. I want to shed skin. I want to start over. I want to go over there and be with him. (I’ve come more than close to buying a plane ticket.) I know what I married into.. I know it like the back of my hand. I know I dont cope well with this. I know I have major separation anxeity. I love him tho. I love him more than anyone has ever loved anyone. We’re young and dumb and beautiful and intense and fantastically naieve about life. I would never choose the easier breathing, the easier life, the easier anything over him. “I’d rather be with you in a cardboard box than in a mansion alone.” He’d always say. I always told him. The crazy thing is, we both mean it with everything we have. I’d rather be in Afghanistan with him than in this house alone. I feel like Im trapped without him here. Like these walls confine me. I truly dont uderstand marine wives at all who have “fun” wile theyre husbands are deployed, I dont understand how they can sleep with other men because “they just got to lonely.” I genuinely cannot grasp how a woman, a wife, thinks she has it any harder than her husband does. He wants to be home just as bad as I want him here. He misses me and it kills me that I can’t fix it. I can’t do anything. I can only sit here. And wait.

I feel like I just walked thru a spider web and can’t get it off.