Blog #2: Mini Bio

A Noisy Appreciation

Taylor Adams clearly has a passion for communication–of any variety.  The items that she pulled quickly from her brown paper bag basically screamed this fact.  Although the first item, a Donut House single serve coffee pack, didn’t immediately associate with such an observation, her explanation of why she chose it made it perfectly clear.  She couldn’t go through a day without it, according to Adams, otherwise she would never be able to focus on work or interact with friends.  “Although, I usually fill it up heavily with coffee creamer,” she noted.  “I can’t drink it too strong.”

This was, as I soon found out, a comical dichotomy to her intense, strong personality.  The next item she brought out was her phone, because of how much she communicates with the people in her life.  It was a gift from her dad, and she fiddled with it while we talked, pressing the buttons almost compulsively, instinctively, before sighing and setting it aside.  Bright pink earphones followed, the cords winding around her fingers as she grinned brightly.  Pink was her favorite color, and she cheerily informed me, “I listen to music a lot.  I constantly try to surround myself with it.  Or, with noise of any variety.  I love noise.”

After that was the camera, sleek and black, in wonderful condition.  She delicately held it while she talked about her love of taking pictures, despite the fact that she hated being the subject of them.  We laughed at our shared opinion on that and then she moved on to her final object.  A small quote, red letters on a creamy white scrap of paper, fluttered in her fingers.  As Taylor looked at it, her face softened, her thumb running over the words as if she could feel them pressing against her skin.

The bible quote was from Ephesians 3:20-21 – “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us,  to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.”  She smiled as she recited it, stating it was one of her favorites.  As I thought about what the quote meant, I realized more why Taylor had a burning desire for noise and communication.  The Ephesians quote beautifully outlined how it was a way for her to strive to do better and better things, all the time.  Honestly, how could you not respect someone with those kinds of aspirations?  If noise is what Taylor Adams needs to continue her dreams, I’ll whip out my metaphorical pots and pans and bang around in her honor!

Blog #1: Self-Introduction, or Explaining My (Shakespearean) Rose

…Because he was the one that coined, “___ by any other name would smell as sweet.”

So even though my middle name is this:

 

The stem of that bud really grew from multiple points.  My middle name came from the mother of this man here:

(who is my father)

But my first name came from this woman here:

I was named after my father’s departed best friend, a man, and when I popped out a girl my mother made the necessary adjustments, since my father was too busy fainting at the sight of the blood.

But the point here is who I am isn’t easily summed up in a sentence.  Who I am is a collaboration of all the people, places, and things in my life.  Who I am is the girlfriend of this man:

The best friend of this woman:

The sister of these wonderful siblings (and yes, I am the baby, before you ask):

The aunt of these amazing kids who are all going to kill me before I turn 30:

Who I am is influenced by these amazing best friends, very very heavily:

Who I am originated in this little town (Merced):

Who I am has ancestors that originated from here (Ireland):

Who I am loves things like this:

And above all, who I am is such an enormous accumulation of influences, people, interests, thoughts, places, motivations, hopes, dreams, losses, gains, transformations, mundane facts, extraordinary quirks, and any other type of THING you could think of, that who I am isn’t going to fit onto this blog post.  Anymore than it would fit into the entire expanse of the universe.

One thing I CAN assure you, and document here without doubt or stipulations, is that all of the above pictures and lists and little tidbits form together to create this:

 

So there’s the explanation of who Samantha Rose Meroney is.  Who are you?

Love’s Lesson in Memory.

i drew a picture for devra yesterday.  it harkened the good ol’ days, when i used to sit with driz and spyro (before spyro became psycho) in chemistry and doodled our opinions about everything that was happening in our lives.  and it got me thinking about many different aspects of the human brain, and our thought processes.

or maybe it was just because i was sitting in psych class at the time.

how does time fly by?  how does it pass so effortlessly from moment to moment, day to day, year to year, without conscious effort?  time EXISTS.  it is perceived through an action that we as humans in turn perceive.  things that take action are living, right?  even the atoms in the universe, the molecules that make up the wind, the nucleuses that form the center of water particles, the waves that travel through light, are reacting to SOMETHING.  something REACTS, meaning it is ALIVE.  only things that are dead do not act.  do not REact.

so what is time thinking?  letting itself pass so unappreciated, so infinitely without consideration?

how i would KILL to rekindle the feelings that used to course through me when sitting in the back during chemistry, creating things on paper that expressed the inner sanctum of my mind, senseless and unbound and without cause.  to recall in perfect detail how my nerve endings crackled under the skin of my lips when i received my first kiss in that backyard, the water from the grass and mud swilling around my toes, my clothes billowing in the late summer breeze, his fingers firm and unassuming around my considerably less massive arms.  to fly that first flight with my father in the old, beat up cherokee once more, remember how the entire world seemed like my little play sets the farther up into the air we rose, until eventually the ground was one huge quilt of color and stillness–the antithesis of what the world REALLY looks like.

psychology 101:  there are three stages of memory.  1) the sensory input.  data entered directly into the neurons are held in memory.  this area has a wide capacity but a brief output.  2) the working memory.  where most data is kept in our brain.  generally the time limit for data in the working memory is at most three weeks.  exercises like rote or elaboration are some techniques for commiting information to the working memory.  3) the long-term memory.  this is the area of our memory that can hold indeterminate amounts of information for as long as a lifetime.  how data is transfered to long-term memory is complex and relatively shrouded in controversy in the psychological world.

we experience this phenomenon every minute of every day.  hearing a song sparks recognition, ignites critical analysis in the prefrontal cortex, draws comparison to the smell of ginger.  sudden intuition–the song is tumbling dice by the rolling stones, and you met your ex boyfriend at a concert of a cover band.  as you both danced to the song, you noticed that his shirt smelled faintly of ginger.

these memories.  treasures of the cave of our subconsciousness.  diamonds in the rough of our grey matter.  what deliberation do we give them throughout our lives?  what motivates us to push forward and leave behind these fantastic, groundbreaking thresholds of our lives?  what compells time to allow us to dictate how we spend it?

devra didnt have time to react to the drawing that i presented to her at the end of class, only because she needed a bathroom like an old man needs a pacemaker.  im confident that tomorrow, however, she wont even remember to tell me about what she thinks.  im also confident that ill draw another picture tomorrow, and further embody that forgotten quality of gathering with peers to learn something–every once in a while, attention is the way to really absorb knowledge.

it is what we are paying attention TO that is debatable.

what is it with my subconscious?  its like it wont give me a break.

dreams have become one of two things for me.  they are either the highlight of my life or the bane of my existence.  seriously.  not just bane in the literal english language use, but bane as in the bane that broke batman’s neck and ruined my childhood for a while because in the movie he was so hideous.  that kind of bane.

im so pathetic.  and i know so many people who would get angry at me for saying that, but this is the cold, hard truth of the matter–i am utterly pathetic.  why not face it?  i should have years ago.  what other word is there to describe me?  to describe going through five years of hell, living H E DOUBLE HOCKEYSTICKS, because of this one guy, and still ending up loving him?

you want to know just HOW pathetic i am?  its not even like i have a REASON to love him.  theres absolutely none.  he hasnt given me one for five years.  i certainly havent given myself any.  i know that.  theres nothing about him that i SHOULD love.  besides the fact that for once in HIS dumb life hes actually happy now, in a relationship with someone who is nice, sweet, good for him.  seriously?  and im STILL doing this?  someone shoot me.  please god, someone just shoot me and save myself and him five MORE years of hell.

actually, that was presumptuous.  im sure the last five years havent been hell for him at all.  im sure hes been fine.

this dream started, ironically, with something that has to do with drugs.  i dont know how the hell i ended up dreaming about drugs.  i dont even think they were conventional drugs either, but like weird herbal hippie stuff.  anyways, i think what was happening was we were having a party in my dorm (i think) and someone who was probably an r.a. and probably phillipe came in and found the drugs–even though no one was using them–and confiscated them and told us all we were in major trouble, time out for life, blah blah.  i felt bad because i guess they were my drugs or something.  shrug.  anyways, the shame didnt last long, because i got in the elevator to go ____________ (insert anywhere you can think of, it doesnt matter) and i end up in the elevator with HIM.

WHY hes at my party in my DORM, when he doesnt even LIVE here, you know, whatever.

i start apologizing to him, like i ruined his party night (hah.  him.  party.  right) or something because of my apparent drug habits or lack thereof.  he tells me not to worry about it, its ok, ill be fine, he doesnt care, yada yada.  i guess i start crying or something, and he hugs me.  and then all of a sudden hes looking down at me so tenderly, so passionately, i kind of lose my breath.  and then he kisses me on the cheek, but he keeps his mouth there, and all of a sudden its near my mouth instead of my cheek, and then he kisses me.

it was like the heavens exploded.  like i was on all the drugs they confiscated from me at the same time.  like nothing id ever experienced before.

and he starts telling me that he cant believe weve finally gotten here.  weve finally reached the point where were ready.  were ready for this.  and hes so happy.  it makes my heart shrivel and crack now to remember how happy he was, how happy i was in that moment, how the future made so much sense to me, as it used to before we screwed it all up.

we end up somewhere where theres a pool.  we are still starry-eyed and whatnot, but it doesnt take me long to realize that there is someone else in the near vicinity who is very important.  i look over and theres d.

p.s. why is d always a phantom in my dreams as well?  i have LESS reason to dream about d than i do about HIM.  seriously, brain, you can stop torturing me any day now.

he–not d–goes off to do whatever, i dont remember, and d comes up to me.  he starts telling me that he cant deal with this, that ive got to choose.  that i cant keep doing this to both of them.  i needed to choose d or i needed to let him go.  (excuse me, wasnt it D that needed to let ME go in my last dream?  please note)  i start telling him that im sorry for putting him through all this, that i know its hard.  he leans down at kisses me hard, and this kiss is not exactly insignificant.  it kind of makes me lightheaded, especially since hes pushing all this NEED into the kiss, like he cant get close enough to me or whatever.  finally we pull away and HE is standing behind d, looking right at me.  and i cant take it.  i have to run away.

is that what im doing?  am i running away?

how am i running from something ive been chasing for so long?

i dreamt about d.  it was this really awkward, incredible, fantastic, unattainable dream.  we were in class, having fun, like we were actually friends or something, and all of a sudden we win something.  probably something really unimportant like a superlative or whatever.  we jump up and are high fiving each other like crazy.  we strike amazing poses that show everyone that we rule.  then we go to a party afterwards to celebrate this totally not important thing.  so eventually he comes up to me in the middle it–who knows whose house were at.  its a dream, who cares?–and he says “so, youre leaving tomorrow” and i said “yeah, yeah i am”.  so then he was like “why are you leaving tomorrow?”  and the look on his face is heartbreaking.  i look up into those puppy dog eyes and say “its what i have to do.  you know that”  then he hugs me, and he wont let me go, i keep telling him he has to, he has to let me go.  but he just wont.  finally he eases up, and kisses me on the cheek.  then he vanishes.  like none of it ever happened.

i wake up feeling completely out of sorts and a bit exhilirated.  even in my dreams, having d kiss me on the cheek makes my stomach flip.  then i shake it off and drive for four hours to see him.  not d.  a: if i was seeing d, i wouldnt have to drive four hours, and b: i wouldnt be seeing d because we are NOT FRIENDS.

anyways, so i drive for four hours and see him after two years of absolutely nothing.  its crazy.  its remarkable.  its fun.  its completely overrated.  but at the same time, its nice.  its sugar and spice.  he loves me, he loves me not.  why is life always such a teeter totter when im around him?  he shows me around the school, he shows me his apartment.  i meet his friends.  i watch his show which is abso-fucking-lutely AMAZING.  before id seen it, id told him “youre really gonna have to sell this school to me.  i just got accepted to one of the best ones EVER yesterday” and his friend said, “make your decision based on the show tonight.  not his performance, cause you wont come.  but the entire shoooowww”  if id been adhering to this challenge, i would have given them twenty thousand bucks on the spot (in the form of an iou).  seriously, i was all, where do i sign up?

he acts so…at ease.  but at the same time, its like hes trying to impress me.  hes trying to show me this and say, “here it is, my life.  see?  im doing FINE without you…but i still want you here”  why?  because honestly?  that doesnt even make SENSE.  and its more clear than any other aspect of our relationship.  so that should effing tell you something.

im doing good the whole trip you know?  we watch movies, we eat donuts.  we laugh it up.  i lock myself out of the apartment im staying in, while leaving my purse INSIDE the apartment im staying in.  we go to church.  and this is where it gets dicey.  because i thought id held up good.  for real, i was patting myself on the back.  see?  you can do this.  you can live life with him normally.  you can do this and not break down.  but then the pastor started talking about how theres this disease thats eating at families today.  which is true, i completely agree.  and then he becomes so in tune with God, so completely attentive to his congregation, he makes this outrageous, honest, astonishing announcement.

“i want you all to look at who you came with today.  look at them.  because this is the person you are meant to be with.  this is your mate, your husband or wife.  you are a FAMILY.  do NOT let sin and the devil tear you apart from each other any longer.  cast that evil out of your relationship, and take your family BACK.”

mortification can be a cold thing.  it froze the blood in my veins, it frosted over my gaze.  i could not even turn my head a fraction of an inch in his direction.  but i still didnt cry.  i was still holding up, breathing, taking it like the woman that i am.  as usually, unfortunately, the singing was what got to me.  the words were something about God bringing you through the storm, him lifting you up over the flood, just trusting in him.  “i will be still, and know you are God” and the second the words leave my lips, tears burst from my eyes.  you cant stop an avalanche as it races down the hill, so i let it go for a few brief moments, and then as quickly as i could manage i dried up the waterworks and sucked it up.

we dont look at each other again until sometime on the drive back to the school when he sneezes and i say bless you–me and my damn ingrained manners.  after that i leave him once again, with a slightly longer and firmer hug goodbye.  the drive back was torture.  endless, blistering heat.  long reaching miles, full of sand and grass and trees, desert.  the sun and the road.  the road and the sun.  over and over and over again.  beating down on me, beating down on the road.  its an continuous cycle that seemingly ill never get out of.  beating down, beating down, beating down.  why am i always beaten down?

meagann.
meeeaaagaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnna.
strelkaa.
streeeeaalkaaaaaaaaaaauhhhhhhhuhhhaaaaaaahhhhhhh.
*hangs up*

brill.
no lies.
well i was going to write about something.
there was in fact a point,
at some point.
but its been pushed out by meagan strelkas being ridiculously promptness challenged.
ill just have to ramble on.
rambling on and on about rubbish.
here i go.

ill give you palm trees
and rainbows,
and some buttons of color,
and some amazing jumping penguins,
ill give you pirate clay pots
and lots of money,
and some clothes fit for someone so sanguine.
ill give you niceties,
but only for today,
cause normally im not niiice.
but i thought,
you know,
she outta have some old spice.

hehehehehe.
joyeux anniversaire pour adrienne
queen of darkness,
and piracy.

wull.  fair tonight.
we be partying like a rock.
cause this is why,
this is why,
this is why im adopted.

uggghhh.
i still really cant remember what i was going to write about.
so when i do,
ill holla back grrl.
right now,
ima go eat some sherbert with eric.

hehe.

how i wish i could have blacked out this entire weekend.


so many stupid things going on in everyones mind.  why are we all being so ridiculous?  woody doesnt like the horse, im not attracted to woody, and bunny and buddy are NOT in a secret relationship.  and yet still we all continue with this horrific breaking of friendship.  the feelings i have for woody at this moment are the FARTHEST thing from attraction as can be humanly possible.  i am so angry at him, i cant stand it.  but like it matters.  were not allowed to talk to each other anyways.  which is also his fault, but i wont play the blame game.


and hes being so dramatic about it.  hes got his back turned to me and drizzy, not just a turn of the head, hes giving us a complete view of the back of his bright orange shirt.  and he wont even talk to pickle, which is so stupid, because pickles probably his best ally in all of this.  but of course he doesnt care.  he only cares about one thing, and thats himself.  men and their pride.


it gets so frustrating, after a while i pull out my last piece of binder paper and scribble, stop looking so pitiful, please.  you have no one to blame but yourself.  its not my fault that you decided to let the horse sit on your damned lap.  really, its quite saddening.  i know youre not like this.  why are you acting like an asshole?


at which point i fold the note into millionth pieces and toss it at his desk.  i miss of course–no one ever said i was a basketball star–and he rolls his eyes, showing the first sign of life since i entered the room.  he decides to let it sit there for a while, torturing me, then finally picks it up and opens it.  he writes back, look, i realized this last period, k?  i fucked up.  i know that i cant do anything to change it.  and she’ll never know how sorry i am about that.  you dont think its hard for me?  try not being able to talk to you.  yesterday when you were having your asthma attack, i wanted so badly to spring up out of this fucking desk and hold you, comfort you.  but i cant.  i heard your voice the other day and almost started crying.  and i know that she doesnt care about me as much as i do her.


my furious reply: dont make the mistake of thinking she doesnt care about you.  she LOVES you.  dont even go there.  he doesnt.  instead, he takes it nowhere, and rips the note into pieces before throwing it in the garbage.

another blackout.  of an entirely different variety.  wed
been together for about two hours, when finally it got to the point
where i was falling asleep with my eyes open.  things just tire me
out.  i cant help it.  if you had been laying with your loved
one for two hours, wouldnt you feel the need to just fall asleep?
but i was trying to stay awake.  he was talking to me, and i know
it was something important, but his words were turning into mumbles, or
maybe that was my brain garbling the sounds into nothingness, making it
so much easier to just close my eyes…
his chest starts vibrating, and i realize hes chuckling softly at
me.  i turn my head to look at him.  “wha?” i say, trying to
sound awake, and failing miserably.  being this close to him is
like downing nyquil, you get so heavy, and so far gone, nothing really
matters but the present anymore.
“youre tired, arent you?” he says, more of a statement than a question.
“no” i say, but already ive started drifting again.  he laughs
again, the movements of his chest comforting, and i slip deeper into
his arms.
“go to sleep” he says to me, kissing my forehead lightly, and my eyes
finally close for good.  my dream is the same.  i cant tell
where i am, a house, a store, anywhere, the point is, its night, and i
can hardly see anything.  its so dark, but heavy, like black
velvet, enclosing me in nothingness.  were running again, now i
realize were in an alley of some sort.  running faster and faster,
but still we only manage to get just far enough away.  the blast
is deafening, and searing hot, burning my back, and we both go flying
across the street, landing face down on the pavement.  and still
he pushes onwards, getting up, his face scratched and blood leaking
from his lips and cheeks, making his face almost unrecognizable. 
i look at my other side, watching our companion getting up as
well.  her hair is flying everywhere, all in her face, her eyes
are wide with dread and panic, and she pumps her arms, pushing her
small legs as hard as they can go, as hard as i know they can.  i
run as well.  down the street, past moss-covered buildings and
rusty cars, as if nothing here has ever been used at all, just sitting
and rotting away.  more blasts from behind us, more heat, more
blood, not enough air.  im choking now, coughing, chest heaving,
still trying to run.  zero looks back at me, already hes pulled in
front, and screams at me, but no noise comes from his cracked
lips.  theres no need for it, though.  he only says one word
to me, “run”.  but i cant.  finally, my foot catches, and i
wait for the inevitable crack of forehead against cement.  but it
never comes, because someones caught me.  and its not zero, or
bunny.  its him.  his arms are around me, holding me up,
keeping me from falling behind, from letting myself be engulfed in the
chaos happening at our backs.  but its no use.  i see that as
soon as i look down.  his leg is a bloody mess.  he cant
run.  he cant do anything, i realize, except hold me close,
imprisoning me against his chest, turning me away, trying to save
ME.  i bury my face in his bloodstained shirt, and scream–
my eyes snap open, and my chest starts to constrict.  it feels
like id had a death grip on my throat, and all of a sudden it had been
released.
“are you ok?”  his voice his laced with concern, and i turn my
head slightly to look at him.  then i realize im sqeezing his
fingers so tight theyre starting to turn red.  i immediately let
go, and he takes my hand instead, caressing the back of it with his
thumb.  “are you ok?” he asks again.  he wont stop until he
gets an answer, i know, so i nod my head softly, trying to catch my
breath.  his arms slide around me tighter, and he kisses my cheek,
which calms me down a little more.
“bad dream?” he asks me, and i turn in his arms, so that i can lay my
head against his chest.  hes so warm, and im so cold, all i want
is to just be with him, let him hold me.
“yeah” i say softly into his shoulder, and his fingers rub my back
comfortingly.  after a while, he kisses me, a heartfelt apology
for making me so upset, though it wasnt even his fault.  me and my
damn head.  my subconscious needs to take a long walk off a short
pier.  and soon, it does, and all that matters is his lips against
mine, his arms around my waist, and the tiny spots on his back that
make him shudder and moan..

i blacked out last night.  no it didnt hurt.  not until this
morning.  all the frauds, and the fake laughs, and the hearty and
lying “how are yous!?” got to me.  no one cares.  were all in
this because of ourselves anyways.  thats the shallowness of the
human nature.  a warm toast, three cheers for a disfunctional
family.  watching me from afar, laughing it up, sipping champagne,
my cheeks getting steadily redder.  yackity yack, dont talk
back.  it only works if you wanna get slapped.  watching
myself losing my grip on reality.  watching him watching me. 
why was he always watching me?  who knows.  maybe im hideous
and i just havent found out yet.  sending glare after glare as
guys decide im a babe, and theyd like to share that with the
world.  one guy wouldn’t leave me alone about it.  “youre so
beautiful.  heey babe.” its only illegal if they dont physically
touch me, blah blah blah, who was this yahoo?  did he know how old
i was?  honestly, he probably didnt know how old HE was, he was so
thoroughly intoxicated.
anyways the point was i was there and so was everyone else.  have
a good time, right?  what good is sitting alone in your
room?  come hear the music play.  life is a cabaret.  at
least when youre a part of this bunch.
he was still watching me.  i make it a point to turn my back and
chat it up with others.  still sipping champagne.  i cant
even taste it anymore.  its just in my hand, in my glass, down my
throat, and burning my chest.  somehow it keeps getting filled
back up.  dont know how.
so far gone.  im completely out of it.  its like im suspended
from the ceiling, watching myself be little miss smiley.  miss
always-positive-never-falls-down.  how long have i had that
role?  forever.  its a character i always play, no matter
what.  i watch as he grabs my arm, and shepherds me outside, away
from everyone else, a grim look on his face.  when we hit the
porch, i pull violently away, and nearly trip down the stairs,
champagne sloshing inside my glass.  “what the hell?” i glare at
him.  “whats your problem?”
“dont get pissy with me” he says, his anger a sharp edge in his voice.  “im saving your ass”
i can save my own ass, thanks.  did it with you, didnt i? 
“youre such a fucking jerk” still watching myself from the sky. 
watching as i make a complete fool out of myself.  “im so sick of
you.”
“yes, im a jerk” he says, sarcasm practically dribbling down his chin.  “now get in the car, im taking you home”
“youre not taking me anywhere” i swear to god, im even slurring my
words a little.  what the fuck was wrong with me?  i try to
shove past him back into the house, but he grabs my arm again. 
for a second i think hes going to sling me over his shoulders and carry
me to his god forsaken car.  but he just holds me in place, and
positions himself completely in front of the door, so i cant get
in.  i stare at him like hes insane, then turn and trip my way
down the stairs and onto the yard.  he realizes where im going,
and hurries after me, pulling in front of me again, blocking my
path.  i shove him hard, champagne flying across the grass. 
“would you leave me the fuck alone!?” i shout at him, and he grabs both
my wrists, to keep me from hitting him again
“calm down” he tells me, and i laugh in his face.  but up in the
air, i groan, shaking my head.  oh my god, i was so freakin nuts.
“calm down” i repeat to him, as if its the most ludicrous thing ive
ever heard.  and at that moment, it is.  “me.  calm
down.  how about you take a look in the fucking mirror?” he just
stares at me, and i pull away from him again.  “you wanna know why
youre acting like this?” i tell him, and he doesnt say anything. 
“you know that your a pussy, and youre trying to play both sides, so
that everyone remains happy, and all the blame is shoved off you. 
yes, oh yes, save me, save me from making an idiot of myself, of
drinking in front of thousands of people who dont care who i am or what
im doing.  no one CARES.  the only person that cares is
YOU.  and you know what?  im done with it.  go back to
your fucking happy life, play mister innocent, be the guy that everyone
thinks you are.  just stop throwing yourself into my LIFE. 
youve caused enough fucking damage in that area already” i punctuated
my little speech by throwing the rest of my champagne in his
face.  only of course, half of it had already been spilled in our
conversation, and all that really hit him were little droplets across
his forehead and cheeks.  they rolled down his face, like
champagne tears, and he locks gazes with me.  and i realize that i am
the one crying.  hot tears of anger and bitterness make stinging
paths across my cheeks.  hes perfectly still for a moment, then
reaches out, softly tugging at my waist.  i push feebly back for a
second, then pathetically bury myself in his arms, my champagne glass
falling to the ground.  he envelops me, murmuring inaudibly into
my hair as i shudder with sobs against his chest.
eventually i calm down, enough to where im sort of hiccuping slash
crying, nestled against him.  i can feel his heart beating hard in
his chest as it rises with each breath he takes.  its almost
comforting.  almost.
“you smell like…apples…” i speak into his sweater.  “…apples
and chocolate…and the rain.”  and with those last, scintillating
words, i watch from the sky as my eyes roll back, and i collapse. 
he keeps me from falling, and then switches one of his arms around, so
that hes cradling me like a child.  then he picks me up and
carries me to his car, myself in the sky, crying as well, tears of
sorrow and loss and loneliness.
loneliness.

wow.  a month goes by.  still with jimmy.  having a hard
couple of weeks.  but its getting there.  one step at a time,
its getting there.

we have come to the last year with stupid danny and the kangaroo. 
ggrr towards danny.  and yet…yesterday…the way we talked to
each other…it was so easy, as if it came as natural as breathing to
us…which in a way it kind of does.  he was one of the best
friends ive ever had.  and i lost him.  and her. 
because of a stupid misunderstanding, and a screw up on my part. 
love lost, such a cost, giving things that wont get lost.  like a
coin that wont get tossed, rolling home to you.

i think that adrienne is in love with me.  which is kind of
scary.  and i think that jimmy is in love with adrienne.  and
he doesnt know it.  which is equally scary.  and i just dont
know what to do.

father.  why have you forsaken me?

i dont think you trust
in my
self righteous suicide
i cry
when angels deserve
to die

***

the silence.  it feeds our tension, growing, spreading, devouring
our unsaid words.  the silence.  its always there. 
always.  it seems that no matter what, no matter what you say, no
matter how much we try, it appears, like the darkness of night finally
takes over the day.  why have you turned away?  in my heart,
i feel youre nonchalance.  how can you look at me and not bleed on
the inside?  you claim you cared so much, but when you hurt me the
most, you turned your head and shrugged it off.  if its over, let
it go.  but its not over.  and i dont think that i can let it
go.  and somehow, i dont think you have either.  otherwise,
where does the silence come from?  oh that silence.  your
words lead to mine, lead to your withering looks, lead to my shattering
heart.  cue the nervous laugh, cut to quick yet vague explanation,
into the contemplation of our conversation.

fade to blackout.  silence.