He’s just not that into you.

“We’re taught that in life, we should try to look on the bright side, to be optimistic. Not in this case. In this case, look on the dark side. Assume rejection first. Assume you’re the rule, not the exception.” ― Liz Tuccillo, He’s Just Not That Into You It’s been romcom season in casa di

What was your name again?

To all those folk who ever doubted me – or might ever doubt you: So I would never get nowhere?Said I would never find my place Told me I would be forgottenWaitWhat was your name again?  So I wasn’t ever good enough?Said I didn’t amount to much Told me I wasn’t all that specialWaitWhat was

Bitter tastes

Honeyed lies drank from poisoned lipsLaid my careful plans to wasteThose empty words and hidden bitesAte me up insideYet I’m still craving a taste.  Because all we really seem to wantIs what might kill us fastest.Consumed by our needsFor the food of our detriment And a sip of the deadliest drinkFilling up on love.  I

Tears

I’ll see words aligned in the saddest of waysReading page after page of fictional historyAnd weep for her loss, his death and their loveBut I’ll never cry for me. I’ll listen to the tragic love-songs of a lifeWith battles the likes of which I’ll never seeAnd weep for their struggle, the battle and their fightBut

Same mistakes

I had a talk with my manager today about my progress and learning curve in my new job. It was a good talk. Way more positive than I’d pictured it beforehand (damn impostor syndrome) and a great clarification on my results these past few months. You see – when it comes to my new endeavors

Rough starts and bumpy endings.

Sports have never really been mah thang, perse. Even though I’ve always been active in one thing or another – I do not consider them mah thang. Mostly because my body is not very subtle in letting me know that it hates anything resembling movement by breaking at every possible seam in every possible way.

Crazy cat lady gene: activated

Oh boy. I’m in trouble. These past three months have been a rollercoaster ride. And I’ll honestly tell you that I may or may not have had about 15 ‘I’m gonna die alone’ moments that may or may not have been fueled by drinking, or tears, or both. After several of these binges I would

And then I tell myself…

One from the archives – just to end the week with a flair of drama: And then I tell myself. They tell me to be strong.They tell me to heal.And then I tell myself….Maybe I was happier being unhappy with you. They tell me I’m being strong.They tell me I’m healing.And then I tell myself…How

Still.

I write notes in my phone, every now and then. I find that it helps me gather thoughts that I otherwise might lose. But I usually avoid reading them back – because some thoughts just deserve to be lost. Today I perused those snippets, knowingly deleting them as I went. Erasing their power. But this

Getting over ‘it’.

There’s still a lot of times each week that I get a sharp little ping that reminds me that I’m (still) not over ‘it’. A nasty little jab, a painful tiny sting, a searing jolt in the side – just to remind me there’s still a world of hurt right there, in plain sight. And