run

I know that I'm okay
'Cause you're here with me today
I haven't got a single problem
Now that I'm with you
So what's the use in complaining
When you've got everything you need

This song makes me want to dance dance dance and stop worrying and stop crying on the subway and stop crying as I head into the night along Ossington and it makes me want to feel the summer heat against bare legs and it makes me want to kiss always and say what I feel and do what I feel and feel more and it makes me want to run home and run there because I feel like I can never get there soon enough.

a little lost

I'm a little lost without you, now that could be an understatement



'Cause I'm so busy, so busy thinking about kissing you

dealing

Dating is a new concept to me. I hear kids these days also refer to it as "seeing each other" or even "dealing." In my tiny dating history, almost every boy I went on a date with turned into a significant relationship. In fact, in two out of my past three dating experiences, I knew the boys I was sitting across tables from would become boyfriends sooner rather than later. The talks were easy and the smiles were plenty and palms were sweaty and all I could think of were future dates and late nights and early mornings and sharing. I wanted to share everything.

Not much has changed in that regard. It's harder for me to put up walls than break them down. I want Greek Easter run-ins and late nights and early mornings and everything in between. I want the domesticity of a day running errands and cooking dinner together. I want to kiss on a streetcorner. I want ice cream walks always. I want I want I want. But it's easy to want but not so easy to achieve when you're in the midst of this confusing concept called dating. How much is too much? Should I say and do just that or should I self-edit some more? All the questions become awfully tiring and confusing and annoying.

The initial excitement that any newness brings has worn off. But the label hasn't been assigned, which is probably for the best I think sometimes. But then at other times I think I need that label because it's all I know. This in-between, this "dealing" is all too unfamiliar terrain and makes me question question over-analyze question question everything when I should be at my happiest.

He said I said his name (first and last) in my sleep last night. He said I sounded upset. I wonder what all this means. And there I go questioning again.

p.s.

put me in your suitcase, let me help you pack

Until about two months ago, the one love letter I ever received from him still used to make me cry upon reading it. The tears fell even faster if I read said letter while listening to that one song I like to think we slow danced to (but truthfully I can't even remember if we did anymore or if I just want to remember us always in that perfect hold swaying in summer light). But tonight, feeling all out of sorts, I grabbed this now famous letter and hit play on that lovely song and sat ready and waiting for the emotions to hit. They never came. Not one single tear fell. My eyes didn't even fill. Not even just a little bit.

oh, lj

(no subject)

[Mar. 24th, 2007|06:57 pm]

it's over. you have to realize that. don't be an idiot. it wasn't you. no, not necessarily. it was much more complicated, yet much more simple than that. it was timing and location and him and ashley and him not knowing and commitment and feeling it or not and no, it wasn't you. you are wonderful and fantastic! why don't you see that? remember, in two years you will be dynamic! you'll feel good with who you are today.

While talking a walk down livejournal memory lane, I stumbled upon this letter written to my two-years-ahead-future-self exactly two years ago today. To call it revealing and funny would be understatements. Why do I not feel much older than this 21 year old version of myself? The same worries and anxieties seem to plague me, just in different boy forms. But this little blast from the past also brings with it a good dose of reality. It's shaking me awake and telling me to LET GO and STOP WORRYING because I am dynamic now and I finally don't need a boy to confirm that.

dreamlover

It's officially spring, which means Toronto summer is thatmuch closer. And because daydreaming is always more fun than essaying, I cannot wait to roll out of a sticky sleep and throw on a purple romper and throw my hair up and walk outside to only sunshine and the bluest sky and walk all the way to Aunties and Uncles in the heat and grab a seat on the patio and order the most delicious brunch and the biggest glass of orange juice and then head towards the water and jump on a ferry and take photos of the prettiest skyline as it becomes smaller and smaller and spread out a beach towel and lie back with a new book and fall asleep in the sun and then return to the book that has now become one of my favourites and eat a strawberry or two and head back on that boat and click away at that skyline just as the sun starts going down because I can never quite capture it just right and then head home and bbq a burger on my deck and sit back with a tall glass of sangria and good conversation and then take another stroll down the street and feel a little dizzy because of the wine and also because it's a perfect summer day and I have not a care in the world and sit on a patio until last call and then walk home without a jacket and fall into bed with a single sheet draped over myself and his arms holding me tight.

| |

They say old habits are hard to break, and last night this suddenly seemed too true. With the help of alcohol, guards came crashing down, only to be replaced with behaviours I thought had disappeared for good. It was like the past four months hadn't even happened. All my musings about change and growth didn't mean a thing. I tested and played and broke winning streaks and turned my back and disappointed and worried and regretted and said too much and said too little and didn't really say much at all.

"It's not you. It's me and something I have to figure out on my own."

Those words couldn't be more true. But is self-recognition "figuring out"? And is figuring out enough? How can self-awareness lead to change? Real change this time around. The past is a scary thing, especially when you see it begin to repeat itself again.

Let's just rewind and hit the pause button and stay in that sort of happy calm always where the picture is sort of fuzzy and you don't know what comes after just what comes now.

one fine day

The sadness is always the easiest to write. The happiness is always elusive and slightly out of reach and impossible to form into words into sentences into paragraphs. I posted twenty times in December, and less and less each month since.

goodmorning baby

This city is barely stirring and I'm already wide awake checking and refreshing one stubborn inbox that just doesn't want to deliver. But I feel suddenly less anxious about it all because I just watched the sun rise over a back alley, casting rooftops and garagetops in a pretty yellow and a prettier blue and everything was so bright and things really and truly glowed for real for once and not just in my head.

start a brand new day

Let's float away together on the hum of a harmonica and the dream of a lazy spring turning into summer.

another one

It is summer again because it always is, and this time we are driving and it's the end of August so the day's already dimming at dinnertime, and the windows are rolled down and that perfect sort of late-summer breeze is coming through and I want to feel part of it even more so I let my arm hang outside the van and watch my fingers trail behind, grasping at blurred city streets, and we aren't saying anything and it's perfect, and then you turn to me and say "I really like this song. I'm glad you do, too" and then everything is even more perfect even though it's the end of summer and even though the sun has already started to set and even though all this means a goodbye looms much too soon.

put your face in my place

It is summer because isn't it always, and he is standing above you as he mouths along with arms outstretched and you are falling and the sun manages to shine so bright through black curtains and there's the ding of streetcars outside and the ding of bicyclists outside and the faraway sounds of conversations out there, too, and now he is singing along and you are falling and you are falling, and now you are singing along, too, and there's a white cotton hug and a kiss on the forehead and you're both singing and then you're both swaying, too, and the sun is still so bright and there's a whole day ahead of you and whole months like this morning ahead of you and you are singing together and so you believe that there's even a forever of this awaiting you.

go go go go go

Let go! Let go? Let go. Let go go go go go go go go!

Maybe Martha is right and I am over-analyzing in an effort to keep a guard up and to become less vulnerable and less attached. But my heart wants to connect across time zones and bodies of water! But! There is always a but with me. But I cannot let go go go go go go.

dear you

COME HOME SOON PLEASE. IT IS LONELY HERE WITHOUT YOU.