Too new

I’ll ever be enough. You’ll always be looking back at the last or reminiscing about your past.

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The first night is always the hardest

First night alone in a long time. It’s official, I am now single again. The dog keeps looking at me like she knows that I’m hurting, her eyes are deep and worrisome, just like mine. I keep battling myself, asking if I should get up and do something…anything to make myself feel better, but I know nothing will help at this moment.

I guess I have no choice but to feel this with my entire heart, allow my brain to go in circles, until it’s tired and let’s me go to sleep. I want to ask where she is, what she’s doing, but I know that It goes against the new dynamic of  our situation, the fact that we are no longer together, and now there is just me, the thing I’ve been worried about all along, and that made her day. Guess I was just the newest thing she waited on to fail.

I feel anger, which is good. It helps with the  numbing process. I keep telling myself that I can just leave and go somewhere else, that I have no reason to stay here, but I can’t move. I’ve been stuck in this same place on the couch for several hours now.

Searching

Forgive me for all of my writing errors.

I just want to get things out until they don’t exist anymore.

Fears hold us down, back, and stuck in a position that we pray to escape from every single moment we are conscious. Conscious of how damaging our positioning is to our state of mind, to our ability to grow, to the chances of someday experiencing something more.

I said that I wouldn’t do this anymore, write subliminal posts on my blog in hopes that my message comes across clearer than actual conversation. I said that no real relationship communicates this way, that it was impossible to really understand what the other was really saying when words and thoughts can be interpreted in any way possible, it is almost like staring at a piece of artwork, how can you really know what the person is expressing when they painted it, unless you were there…in that moment while they created that piece?

But I digress.

It hurts me to know that a piece of you holds on to me because you don’t know how to let go. That it seems you can’t find the significant differences between love and attachment, that you work minimally through life so things just fail, and that you simply roll onto the next thing to hold onto. I feel…no…I think that it is a very unhealthy way of living. How can you know if something is real? How do you know if what you are working towards is something you actually want? That you aren’t just riding the waves until you decide you don’t want it, and then wait for it to just walk away from you? That is a hard way to live.

I have to confess, that a part of me held on to you for reasons beyond us as well. I felt that the failure of us meant that I wasn’t “good” at something, that I would have to deal with the aspect of failure, which you know is very hard for me. I don’t like failure. My life has been full of it.

You say that you left your home. You did, and that is something that sticks with me constantly. I feel that we both made major decisions that we were not in a position to make. And that we both kind of linger on a little bit longer than we should because we don’t know what will happen if we made the decision to cut it loose. Where would you go? What happens when we erase and become nothing? when we once become strangers? Too many questions.

loved you, still do…no question. So us breaking up will make me feel bad feelings, some that you will see when you walk around me. These feelings consume me, but they are distant fragments of my mind when I am alone, that is why I beg for you to leave me to process things the way that works for me.

I hope that you find what you are looking for, and that the person you choose to be with after me makes sense to you, that they feel like home for you…and help you to find yourself. I guess I have to let it all go and do the same, as I am searching as well…and we have both been looking in the wrong places.

-K

The Lion or the House Cat.

The Lion or the House Cat.

The dark room slowly filled with strangers with the familiar face of uncertainty and a lust for love,
or filled with the love of lust. All searching for that one moment to climax, to finish in ecstasy,
with some hoping to then begin a new chapter of love and romance with someone of the same-sex. This room, a large yet seedy nightclub in the middle of San diego's gay utopia 
of Hillcrest allowed everyone the freedom of ambiguity, to be set free in a land where they could be a lion or a house cat, to chase and devour their next meal like 
it were their last, or to sit and wait to be served by their master, to be the aggressor or to be taken down, everyone played a role. 

I needed a place like this. I needed choices. I wanted to feel the differences between being right and doing wrong, to be allowed the choice to be confused and then 
figure out the answer on my own. My sexuality had become the biggest mark in my life. I needed to find out if I was the straightened arrow that my heart had longed for,
 or if I was indeed the sexual deviant that my mind had often conjured up, I wanted to see if a woman's touch could answer these questions for the rest of my life, 
so I could go to my grave and know that in this life, I didn't make the mistake of not asking enough questions, not seeking enough answers. 
Satanic, men who were accountants by day had turn into sado-masochists, women who had children at home were there to experience another woman's mouth on their breasts. 
I stared out by the dj booth, sorted through the options. "Not feminine enough", "Not my type", "Too many tattoos", nothing catching my eye, but I remained seated, 
waited for her to walk through the door. I knew exactly what she was waiting for...

I turned around to order another drink, the bartender looked familiar, latina with a bunch of tattoos and a beautiful smile. She went out to the neo soul nightclub that would 
jump off downtown, but on certain nights she'd spend her nights in the clubs trying to attract a woman to appease her secret appetite, to get attention from pretty girls
in order to say that she'd done it. There were so many like her. 

"Excuse me, haven't I seen you down at Onyx?" I ask her with direct eye contact.
"Oh my god, yes! What're you doing here love?" She smiled big.
I gave her no answer, let her imagination give her everything that she needed. 

She waited for me, as I internally deemed her my first conquest;

Waiting to be served by the master; her obedience, my control.
Realizing at that moment, that I am the most dangerous lion out there.


Shelled.

I keep asking myself what the loneliness will cost me.

Quiet thoughts that control my surroundings

An empty heart that paid the highest price to go on vacation

The removal of hope that keeps allowing for me to bet on a lost dream,

Or simply the chance to fade away from society on my own terms, peacefully.

I’ve lost all before January 2015, and now I’m just ready to lay against the carpet in my empty apartment, no phone, no worries, no feelings.

New Tear

My conscience
Bleeds;
Like it were stabbed
In revenge.
So much damage done.
But,
Forgive me for 2014.
And give me
3 hundred and sixty something
Days
To heal,
Make mistakes,
Grow,
And repeat.