“Stitch by stitch I tear apart.
If brokenness is a form of art,
I must be a poster child prodigy.
Thread by thread I come apart.
If brokenness is a work of art,
Surely this must be my masterpiece.
I’m only honest when it rains.
If I time it right, the thunder breaks
When I open my mouth.
I want to tell you but I don’t know how.
I’m only honest when it rains,
An open book with a torn out page”
-Neptune ( Sleeping at Last )
I am an island
I am an undiscovered planet
I am the edge of a skyscraper
I am bare for all to see
I am alone
At the end of the day I realize always that am utterly and completely alone. I am ok with this some days while others it drags me to the furthest depths of my soul and leaves me there alone, once again. As my birthday fastly approaches I am more than willing to push it to the side. I remember last year my birthday was on Monday and he had to work. Somehow though he always made things special in his own way. I stop and wish I would have lived in those moments more. As I pause I can hear him whispering to me that he’d make up for it next year. I think back on the birthday four years ago when he kicked me out with tears in his eyes. How even in those moments I knew he loved me more than I loved myself. I said to someone the other day that I was in a relationship that built me up and made me a better version of who I’ve always been. I had to take a deep breath how true those words were. I was lucky enough to have someone in my life that truly loved me to my core and back. The good, the bad, and the crazy. I miss his encouragement at the end of a difficult day. His stupid softball socks. His fucking junk food that he just couldn’t live without. I should have stopped. I should have been more present. I should have done more. Sometimes I wonder if this constant pain will ever lessen or if this is life now. My aunt told me that I am confusing when it comes to Dave. That in person I will say “Oh yeah but you know he croaked” while in my blog it is desperate despair. I thought about that for the past few days. I have always deflected with humor or anger. Plus how do you say face to face your soul has a terminal disease that you are quite sure will eventually kill you as well. There really are no words for the anguish I feel on a minute by minute basis daily. I try to write it down in hopes that maybe I too can understand myself. Maybe I am not terminally ill. Maybe I will make it through this completely. Until then I will remain a island surrounded by beautiful sparkling water but not safe enough to actually approach.