I'm so proud of this!
Here it is!
That’s what I felt myself starting to do. Spin. Emotionally I was unraveling and I knew this wasn’t going to be pretty. The spiral of separation anxiety and depression was now unvavoidable and it had pulled me in.
Nothing I was feeling mad any sense. Dance. Die. Dance. Die. How is that I simultaneously wanted to dance and die... Ah, I get it now. Both of them looked like freedom to me.
I was flying, right down the highway. My music loud and my body swinging around behind the steering wheel without a seatbelt. Maybe I’ll crash. Maybe I won’t. But maybe I will. Why are these thoughts plaguing me, when all I want is to feel better?
“Come to the door! Let’s go to a wild bar!” I couldn’t decide where I wanted to land. I just didn’t want to feel. First glass of one, chugged. Second glass of wine, chugged. Third glass, never finished. At this point I was dancing to the appropriately leveled music, wanting it to be louder so I could drown myself out. The last voice I wanted to hear was my own. I never made it to the bar, but I was clearly trying to turn this living room into my own dance floor.
Finally I was coming down. The concert inside me was on its last performance, which was going to be a somber ballad. My eyes were wet, but no tears were making it down my cheekbones. “Don’t forget me.” Last text of the night. An indirect reminder that I might leave it all behind. I’m tired now, and this couch is wide open... I’ll just rest for a bit.
Morning came in cool and forgiving, the same could not be said of me. I felt the pangs of sadness floating around my chest. I didn’t want this feeling to consume me, so I rushed home. No mistakes were made last night, but I certainly didn’t feel good about how it all went down. At this point I just want the spinning to stop.
(10.20.17)
Sick, but took 5 minutes to do this.
Hey everyone! This is the first episode of my first ever web series! Please like, share, comment & subscribe! All of your support is appreciated so much! Thank you!
I can feel you. Your skin on mine. Our hair lightly intertwined. My thighs pressing on yours. No fabric between us. The sun spilling through the blinds onto our bodies. It’s warm, just warm enough. Last night... Goddamn! We’re lucky there wasn’t a noise complaint. Between the sweating and squeezing, I’m surprised my muscles finally stopped throbbing. Your hair and your neck in my hands... your lip between my teeth, you taste so good.
Look at you, fast sleep. Your body barely moving against gravity as that gentle heart of yours beats. The heart strong enough to hold me and my epic feelings. You’re still sweet to me even when I’m at my worst. Your hair always smells like the beach, and your lips a bit salty after the first kiss. Your body still fits in mine, it’s so comforting. I’m trying not to wake you as I run my fingers over your lower back down to your ankles. I want more.
I’m watching you from the bathroom, washing the taste of sleep from my mouth so I can wake you with sweet kisses. You feel so good under me. Your knee resting on my ass, your wrists crossed on the back of my neck. Take my weight baby. You like how heavy I am... Make me grow.
Out of breath again. Your head on my chest as the clock keeps ticking. I don’t want to get up, everything else can wait. This feels right. How do we do this to each other? Never mind, I dont want to ruin the magic, promise me you’ll never stop. Your eyes, they’re shining as you look at me. Your lips twitch before you speak and it’s one of the cutest things about you. What are you going to say to me my love?
“Good morning, baby.”
(10.6.17)
So there I was, the night before my birthday at work, and one of my friends asks me, “was 22 a good year?” Immediately my first instinct is to make a slick comment, but then I thought to myself, “was it?” I realized in that moment all the things that made it great and what could have made it better. A large part of that is in following my dreams and committing to my own personal growth. I want so badly to be extraordinary, and during the year of 22 I was, but in very ordinary circumstances. Next July, I know that I will surpass who I was at 22, but be closer to the version of myself that far surpasses my wildest dreams. Set a goal. Work toward it. Accomplish. Repeat. I am an achiever, and today I celebrate all my past achievements and all of the progress I will achieve from this day forward. To this year of achievement. 23.