wait, they don't love you like i love you

Maps

Pack up

I'm strayed
Enough

Oh say say say
Oh say say say
Oh say say say
Oh say say say
Oh say say say

Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Maps
Wait, they don't love you like I love you

Made off
Don't stray
My kind's your kind
I'll stay the same
Pack up
Don't stray
Oh say say say
Oh say say say

Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Maps
Wait, they don't love you like I love you

Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Maps
Wait, they don't love you like I love you

Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Maps
Wait, they don't love you like I love you

Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Maps
Wait, they don't love you like I love you

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Brian Chase / Nick Zinner / Karen Orzolek

Maps lyrics © Chrysalis Songs (digital Only), Chrysalis Music Ltd

I have this whole entire nerdy playlist simply titled "pretty".  This is one of the songs on said playlist.  I love it.  I don't know if you've ever seen Karen O live, but I'm old enough that I've seen her at a Vans Warped Tour at the Shoreline, this totally amazing outdoor amphitheater in Northern California.  That's the first place I ever encountered weed being passed at a concert, too--but that was Coldplay.  I turned it down, and I'm still glad for it.  It was totally amazing with the lights and everything sober and I still recall it as an 18 year-old.  Fucking great.  But yeah.  Karen O.  Massive girl crush.  I remember just feeling like this woman is just feeling her music and is just there, she is enveloped in it and she is here in the moment and no place else.  I thought she was totally amazing.  Still do;)

I have no idea what I feel in my personal life.  I wasn't drinking, now I am.  I write in my head constantly, trying to sort things out.  Trying to untangle things.  Trying to sort out the mess.  But I just don't know.  I don't know what I want or how to feel.  I know that I really want to have amazing sex with someone I care about ideally.  Because I am so very full of love.  And I need to give it to someone.  And I'd rather not give it to a rando.  

I dyed my hair with semi-permanent dye.  Rose gold.  Mostly it looks somewhat reddish purple.  But it is very subtle.  

I imagine people are more complex than they are in my had.  More intellectual and more mysterious and more everything.  Reality is a really big sobering opposition to the lady boner.  But maybe it isn't if he feels the same way.  I don't fucking know.  Because he hasn't communicated so who knows.  Maybe that's why I gave up on reading and all the places I used to go.  Because I just have to learn how to get used to this very bleak, very real, very boring actuality.  

Is it fucked that I get off on being tied up and choked?  What does that say about me?  Or that I wake up with bruises and he doesn't talk to me?  What the fuck does that say about a person?  

I like to help others and care for them.  But who do I let do the same for me?

Liver eaten by birds

 Right now in this moment I just want to be cuddled on the couch by Dan. Have him hold me and fall asleep in his arms with his leg around me.

I still love him. What the actual fuck is wrong with me?

When I wake up I know I'll feel differently again. It's a constant yo-yo. This inane ebb and flow without any smell of sea of spray of salt to make it better. It's over one year later and I feel like a jaded alcoholic Hemingway character drawn in 2D who is doomed to keep rolling some stone up a mountain only to have it come tumbling down in an infinite futile loop. 

For a year I've tortured myself, my liver eaten by birds over and over again: why don't you love me? Why can't you love me? 

justified in the way you make me bruise

The Silence

Manchester Orchestra

Why do I deserve the science
To feel better about you?
At a loss I lost my cool
I denied that I found you

I tried to be a basket case
I did not surprise you
I'm trying to find a signal fire
Let me know when I should move

But you, amplified in the silence
Justified in the way you make me bruise
Magnified in the science
Anatomically proved that you don't need me

Why do I desire the space?
I was mourning after you
I was lost and lost my shape
There was nothing I could do

I don't want to waste away
It was all I gave to you
Take me back and take my place
I will rise right up for you

But you, amplified in the silence
Justified in the way you make me bruise
Magnified in the science
Anatomically proved that you don't need me

All the while you waste away, you're asking
"Did I really need another one to take me down?"
Everybody knows it's something that you had to live with darling
Nobody's gonna tear you down now
There is nothing you keep, there is only your reflection

There was nothing but quiet retractions
And families pleading, "Don't look in that cabinet
There's far more bad than there's good, I don't know how it got there"
That was something your father had burned in me
Twenty hours out of Homestake eternity
You can go anywhere but you are where you came from

Little girl you are cursed by my ancestry
There is nothing but darkness and agony
I can not only see, but you stopped me from blinking
Let me watch you as close as a memory
Let me hold you above all the misery
Let me open my eyes and be glad that I got here

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: John Andrew Hull 

So I listen to this song most nights before bed.  I think the drums are hauntingly beautiful, and the lead singer's voice singing the lyrics is almost poetic.  Or maybe it is.  And I never understand words in a song, and certainly don't ever sing them correctly, so it struck me as kind of hilarious that this song was apparently written as an ode to fatherhood, this prayer to God for the man's self and his daughter.  Wanting to get things better than his own father did.  I don't know.  There is something kind of profoundly beautiful in me being so drawn to it.  

I've been really down on myself lately.  I changed from sertraline to duloxetine last week since I hadn't really been sleeping at the urging of my doctor.  When I say not sleeping I mean not sleeping, like literally some hours a night.  And when you're working twelve plus hours sometimes three days in a row it's actually pretty fucking dangerous.  And then Friday at work I just lost it.  I had a really tough assignment, two kids, this Down's baby without parents at the bedside and this adorable 4 year-old who recently became neurologically devastated following a cardiac surgery (I mean, a really beautiful, sweet boy prior, and still beautiful) with mom and dad homebound with three kids who have school online, and each of them with eight diapers a piece, one pooping blood and getting tests done bedside and tons on meds and chest physiotherapy and nebs and suctioning and so on and so forth, and feeling obligated to still turn them and love on them and tell them their parents loved them (and yes, of course hold that adorable baby and sing to her), and I tried to eat lunch late past four o'clock and I just couldn't.  This is the first year I'm missing my mom's birthday celebration with her.  And I realized to me, it's so much more than Christmas and Thanksgiving and New Years.  Because my nuclear family disintegrated awhile ago, and my mom's birthday is the most special thing that I can spend with her every year working in healthcare, no matter what.  I just lost it and started sobbing in the fishbowl with my head on the table.  It was pretty silent and I just thought, you dumb fuck, you're leaving a puddle on the table, and your mascara is going to run. I was so ashamed.  

I know I'm not alone, and it's only me choosing to feel this way.  But sometimes I wish I lived in a house with someone and had a baby and people to care for.  When it's just me, it's easy to not give a shit.  And I know that is the exact opposite of how I should feel.  That it is dangerous to feel this way.  That these thoughts drive people away.  I had someone say they liked me.  But only after I told them so.  And I'm fucking tired of being the brave one.  The first honest one.  And it won't work anyway, so what the hell is the point.  Where does all my honesty and courage get me in this life?  It gets me last place, watching all the others from the sidelines.  It makes me such a goddamn cynic it makes even me feel sick.  And I'm so damn tired of all these brick walls I've built up over the years.  I used to be sweet and sensitive and unafraid to feel and be hurt.  And now I don't trust anyone.  People like Chris and Dan saw what my family was and said they'd never hurt me and then put me through the worst kind of hurts.  And I don't know why.  What did I do to deserve it?  Why couldn't they be honest with me like I was with them?  I never would have hurt them like that.  I don't have it in my body.  I want to feel love.  I want to feel safe and protected and be loved and to do all of that for someone else.  But I'm also so tired and confused and so badly want to get the fuck out of Brooklyn that who knows at this point.  

I'm really angry at myself for what I've done with Dan recently.  I thought he legitimately wanted to be friends again but I think he just viewed me as someone he could use, and that really fucking hurts.  I think he views me as trash.  I don't know why I still have love in my heart for him, I don't.  He has treated me like as if I am less than human over and over.  He responds to conversations when he feels like it.  He NEVER asks about me or my family.  He never asks about my day.  He never asks me a question, period.  He actually only ever speaks about himself.  His day, work, drinking/food, wanting to masturbate.  And I get really mad at myself.  I just have a hard time reconciling that the person I spent a year with would treat me like this.  

I'm so fucking bored.  I hope a spaceship comes and beams me out of here and takes me to Mars.  

You know what--

Today I woke up and I was grateful.  I have amazing friends that look out for me and protect me, that want the best for me.  I am so blessed.  I am not perfect, and that's okay.  I need to stop beating myself up every single day.  I need to love myself.  And love will come.  It will.  But I need to first practice self love.  I give so much to people at work every single day.  And yes, I get so much back.  And then there is Samson.  My beloved Samson.

Truly I have so very much.  And I am thankful.  

 I don't cry anymore.  Truly.  I don't even get close to the feeling of it lately.  I feel a numbness taking hold.

I want so badly to feel connected, to feel close.  To be held and to be wanted.  To feel safe and protected.

I am so sick of games and bullshit.  I like being transparent and honest.  And I still have these feelings.  God help me but I do.  I wish I could just cut my heart out of my chest, tearing the fleshy pulp from my breast and truly feel no more sadness or emptiness or longing.  Because he so clearly feels none of it.  So clearly views me as a means to an end, a way to get off; something easy.  It hurts.  A dull hurt, but sometimes the dull pains are almost worst than the sharp twinges.  

And I know it makes me so pathetic and desperate and foolish.  Why don't I have more self-respect?  He doesn't even want to talk to me.  It breaks my heart, my spirit.  I cross one day to the next, caring a little bit less about everything each day.  My apartment grows a little more unkempt, a little more dusty with every passing week.  Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I wonder, who is this old, tired woman before me?  Who is this person who has so very clearly already given up on life?  

I am so tired and yet I rarely sleep anymore.