An epiphany with a song.

Sometimes there is that gem of a song that you have been listening for years because it's a great song on it's own with a sweet beat and nice vocals. And then days, months, years past, and the song is still there being great but then you just find yourself in a place, on a night, listening to music and the song hits you. And it hits you again and again and the lyrics just grabbed at you, and you just find yourself relating and going, I never figured that one day I will be in a situation that I could sing this song with my actual heart behind it. and this was just a cool song and now it means the world. Now it describes me and I just wonder at how the songwriters knew. How they knew that people would find themselves relating to this and what had they gone through in order to be able to write down so well, to capture it, and to form it into a song that just makes you breathe and realized that yes, this song is you, and yes it is other people too in their own way, and that out of everything, that life goes on, and that you're not the only one with those feelings. And now finding myself there with those words. I get it.

Am I more than you bargained for yet
I've been dying to tell you anything you want to hear
Cause that's just who I am this week
...
I'm just a notch in your bedpost
But you're just a line in a song
...
Drop a heart, break a name
We're always sleeping in, and sleeping for the wrong team
...
Wishing to be the friction in her jeans
Isn't it messed up how I'm just dying to be him
...
We're going down, down in an earlier round
And Sugar, we're going down swinging
I'll be your number one with a bullet
A loaded God complex, cock it and pull it.
...
Just pull it. Just fucking pull it.
.

I can honestly say I get it. I actually relate, and not just fake relate to it like many teeny-boopers middle schoolers who related to the love game, or who wanted to make a bad romance. No, you don't you're only 11-12 years old, and you don't know what it's like to be a dancer in the dark, and if you do. I'm sorry, but I'm not talking about the exception, I'm talking about the majority, the normal girls.

But I can honestly say that I relate to those lyrics. :/ And I had my motherfucking epiphany, sitting here, typing up my homework, and the song comes on and I'm listening to it, singing along, not even paying much attention to the lyrics when I hear that, I'm (he's) just a notch on your bedpost and he is, you're (I am) just a line in the song, I really am.

If it comes to anything, that is just what he is going to be, and all my potential might be just that but I'm just letting this out. just writing it out, get it out of my system. Because I'm just going to take it as it comes, and let the chips fall where they will, and I'll be right there to step it up.

It feeds my soul.

I write. That's not secret anymore.

What is a secret is my state of being when I write. What people don't know is when I'm writing, I give all of me, no holding back, and it's the reason I do it at night with my door lock. I tend to get as emotional as my characters are when they are going through situations.

& I thought my second book was hard to write. This one is proving to be a trip, making me listen to those songs I shouldn't be listening for my own good. Songs that bring back heart ache, bring me back to a place of pain, a place of where I should be getting over from. & I take that hurt and I try to put in my writing. But once I stop typing, it's still there.

& I just hear the lyrics over and over again.
Do you even know how much it hurts?

You gave up on me to be with her.

Lyrics that haunt me. Burn through me as I write.

& what really makes me just want to die, just die, is that he didn't even say he was sorry. Didn't say any of that. What he did say was that he found the love of his life, and that he was getting married, and it wasn't going to be to me, and she was right there listening to him, break up with me, over the phone. Listening because I was on speakerphone and he said those same exact words to me. To me, he told me I was the love of his life. He and I talked about our children, names, about how after I got my B.A. we were just going to get the hell out of town, both of us, and start anew, with me in school, and him working. It was beautiful, and it still hurts, and it's been a year and it explains why I'm so fuck up.

& why I cling, desperately hold onto every inside joke, every word, every speech, every little dorky geeky little reference that my dream guy makes. Because every time I hear him giggle, actually giggle like a little boy, and say wow, and then reference this armor racing snail arms dealers that his sister wrote about him, about him, I forget. I forget and I laugh and I smile, and I think there's hope for me yet. There's still hope. & it's a stupid dream really, but I dream it because if I don't, I don't want to know, I really don't.

I just hope that my books are enough to get to a place where I could make my dreams a reality.

I hope with a broken heart.

Hate hate hate this.

I hate it when emotions sneak up on me. I would absolutely be horrified if this happened anywhere when I was with someone/in public.

I was emailing a friend about Burned by Ellen Hopkins (Just a stunning book). As I was telling her, I remembered that I was reading that when he left me for her. And before I could even blink I was heaving sadness into my hands, cupping my face, my mouth so that no one could hear me.

hate hate hate. I was perfectly fine, happy that she emailed me and then bam, I'm trying to muffle my brief sobs. Why must I remember that? Why. I loved the book and looking back on it, I can remembered how I cling to it. to anything. I remembered how I cling because I couldn't get up. I couldn't do anything. I spent a week lying in bed, sleeping 16 hours a day, only getting up to eat food I didn't find taste. and when I went to the bathroom, it was only to dry heave over the toilet and vomit nothing but a clear white looking like water liquid, trying to vomit the distaste of the whole affair. It was ugly. very ugly. I worried everyone. I lost a lot of weight. I went down from a size 16 to a size 14 in two weeks because I didn't realized I was starving myself. I couldn't eat. I couldn't swallow, I would get nauseous if I ate anything heavier than a yogurt or a banana a day. Yeah that's what I was eating. One banana or one yogurt a day and some water. It was all I could stomach.

Stupid how one thing can bring you down. I clung to that book. I read burned and it took me the whole week, not because it's difficult. it's actually a very fast, very short read. But I've read Burned because I would be reading it and just glazed over whatever I read, I had to go back and concentrate on what I actually read because I didn't know what I read. Or then i would read something and I would have to put the book down because I couldn't go on.

I know if I read it again and I want to. I love Hopkins, it's only going to make me cry.

And I'm sick for still wanting him sometimes. He broke me and I want him back. So strong. so weak. too much. too little.

All I can do is write and wait. wait. wait. for the day that I might be okay, and find a man who will treat me like I am a flower and he is a bee and his world is me.

Where are you, I think I know who you are, prince charming with glasses, and always a good book in sack, prince charming with outdated slang, prince charming, king of the geeks. When are you? because you're not here on my time, with me, when you should be. But you still make me smile. he still holds the ability to make me laugh with his bad jokes and his geek boy manner and maybe that's why I cling to him, when I should just cut my losses and go. live. forget about relationships and just concentrate on reading and writing for the rest of my life. Sounds like a good enough plan to me.

Her answer

Maybe I change my mind. FAIL. BIG FAIL. Ms. honesty no more denial changes her mind about having a boyfriend. I want someone, something, just so I won't feel so alone at times. Most of the times I'm not lonely, but the nights are long. I want that connection. I want that person that can make me feel beautiful, it doesn't matter whether it's for only a little while. It doesn't matter how long it last, whether it is serious or just for fun. I just want to feel appreciated.

There I changed my mind. That's what I want. I want to fill up whatever space is eating me up when my guard is down. I want to have fun. I want to feel. I want to dream. I want to live.

So there.

Listening to: In the Still of the Night by Five Saints