Dramatic vs. Traumatic

I'm reading a novel about the history of philosophy and in it I found this quote:

"You can't experience being alive without realizing that you have to die, but it's just as impossible to realize you have to die without thinking how incredibly amazing it is to be alive."

Perhaps, after my accident in November, I have truly embraced the beauty of life. That fateful night could have been the reason why I am no longer fazed by the petty things that others tend to stress over. After staring Death in the face at the age of nineteen, I no longer have a care for acquiring anything but another step through life. Now that I have fully defeated any emotional or financial struggle from that day, I can finally plant both feet on this stable ground that I built for myself, and breathe a sigh of relief. Everything is perfect...

So long as I keep my eyes open.

Once again, I am speeding down the 10. As always, those two lights appear just in front of me, and, as always, my car slams into the one in front of me.

As my car skids out of control, my heart beats likewise. Unable to catch my breath, my eyes snap open. I take a look around and breath a sigh of relief as I realize that I am safe in my room. I watch as the sun illuminates my soft pink walls and, immediately, I am calm again.

No longer do I dream about the shattered glass or the flames engulfing my surroundings. The thoughts of my mom as I presumed my death are merely recollections of that night, and no longer do they lurk in my dreams. It seems to me that as the months go by, my dream keeps getting cut shorter and shorter. It's as if my subconsciousness hopes that one day my dream will be shortened to nothing but a safe drive home, thus matching the same effect with my memories.

Nice try.

I need to stop having these dreams, especially when I'm trying to take a power nap before going in to work tonight. At least I got a good hour in before my slumber was so rudely interrupted by that traumatic dream. I guess I should get ready for work now, seeing as it usually takes me a while to pick out what to wear.

P.S. One more week and I'm done with this place. My feelings? Mixed.

Past Loves and Past Lives

I was fourteen years old and he was sixteen. He left for college, and I started seeing other people. I thought I would never be able to get over him...

I was right.

Seeing him today brought back a wave of memories and feelings that overwhelmed me into submission. Our brief encounter triggered something in the back of my mind. I couldn't place a finger on what it was until now. I remembered that I wrote this about him at the age of sixteen when he went away for college. It took me forever to find it...

He approached her and said,"I think you're gorgeous." Never before had she ever felt so weakened by a mere compliment. They always brush over her head like the cool summer breeze. With him, it was pure innocent bliss. Her memories with him were filled with warmth and sunlight even on the dullest days, but that's all that they are now. Just memories, memories that she knows she will never be able to relive.

The images of their time spent together jostled with each other, and she tried to stop them, but she couldn't. His smile, she knew, would always remain the same, as a legacy of his adolescence.

She let him go. "Why did I do it?", she asked herself. She still to this day is unable to find a reason for her acts. She relives her days with him every waking moment until Reality steps in and every word out of his mouth is like a slap in her face; word bullets that tore into the brain and exploded, obliterating memories. Reality is cruel and careless but when things get crucial, all of the sudden it turns apologetic and mollifying. There is no turning back. Even if she could, she shouldn't for fear that she would have to suffer unbearable consequences. But would it be worth it?

Regret flows through her veins as if it is her own blood; through her body, to her heart where anger beats along with confusion. The only thoughts that flow through her mind are useless and they taunt her. She is goaded by her thoughts to be rash, but she takes a look at Reality, and thinks better of it.

"If only I showed more affection; if only I were simply blatant; if only I weren't so shy; if only I hadn't let him go....." She reminds herself that if she keeps looking back she will soon run into a wall of confrontation. "If only" Seemed to be the words of her life.

I know right? Even back then I seemed to have serious issues with men.

I don't know what happened today. It was, seriously, all a blur. My heart was beating out of control, and my thoughts jumbled up into a clutter of excitement. My words were probably far from comprehensible, and that was when I realized...

When the waves of your past come crashing into you, all you can really do is: breathe.

Dust Bunnies and Memories

It's that time of year that we all dread, yet some of us welcome it with open arms and a dust pan. Spring Cleaning is here, and along with it comes stress, mood swings, and long lost memories. Upon sorting through my childhood and teenage years, I recovered: a guitar (hardly ever used, but rescued in hopes that I will one day become a rock star), notes written from friends (filled with inside jokes that make me feel so out of the loop now, not understanding any of them), wallet-sized couple pictures (half of them from people I don't even talk to or like anymore), a couple knick knacks from my shallow elementary school days, broken relationships (which led to broken hearts), and two or three things that I feel I would actually use.

As I'm sitting here however (itchy from all the upturned dust), I can't help but to think about all these memories that I recovered. Over summer, when I was remodeling my room, I threw all of the junk that I couldn't care less for into my brother's old, vacant room. At the time I knew it was useless, yet I still was unable to part with it. Now, three seasons later, I still can't find the courage to throw my past away. I simply store it somewhere until I find the time and mindset to actually deal with it.

I guess in a sense there is no throwing away of my past. No matter how hard I try, I either end up not wanting to, or not being able to. I tried shoving it into a vacant room, but it's all still there. I could try moving away, but it would still be here. I could try giving it away, but it would still be there. Somewhere. It's like that shit we learned in chemistry. How matter is neither created nor destroyed. Not exactly the same concept...but close enough.

Meanwhile...

I've been thinking about how things just aren't the same anymore. I shouldn't be surprised, because it's not like I was expecting a smooth ride all the way, but I didn't expect this rocky stage to be filled with so much...apathy. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I really am the demanding little girl that he says I am. Maybe I do complain too much. I don't know, whatever the case is, I can't say or do anything about it because it would simply justify his points and make me look like a bitch. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I'm sensing too much absence and not enough fondness.

I guess some of us just don't realize the time strain. Soon time will run out and in its place will be a huge distance. About eight hundred miles to be exact. I don't know. Maybe I should just let it be? Maybe I should cool off? Maybe I shouldn't care so much (I mean really, I'm the only one that does care). Maybe I should...give up?

Oh hell, I don't even know what I'm saying. I have a million thoughts running through my head and they all just morph into a huge cloud of confusion. But really, what the hell am I waiting around for? I feel like I'm trying for nothing. I feel empty and also that everything I have is empty. I hate being judged, but I can't help that. It just sucks to know that even the person you love is also judging you, critiquing your every action in hopes of making you into "a better human being". I feel like I'm not good enough.

Well if I'm not good enough at home, and I'm not good enough at school, and I'm not good enough for him than what the hell is the fucking point? What happened to those days when I was beautiful, smart, and funny? When there just wasn't enough of me for him, and he actually thought about me? I miss being cared about. I miss feeling safe, and knowing that I had a sense of belonging. What can I do though? I guess I have to understand that all things come and go, I better appreciate them while they're here cause they sure as hell aren't going to last.

Now I'm angry and hurt from dealing with apathy and...nothing. I hate nothing. It sucks because there's nothing to justify, and nothing to yell at. I'm hurt, I'm tired of crying myself to sleep. I realized that I get tired after I cry and today, I am exhausted.

But that might just be from all the spring cleaning. I should take a shower. I'm still itchy from being attacked by the dust bunnies. Of course when I'm uncomfortable I get cranky so that might just be it.

Fucking dust bunnies...