Lost In The Wild

[tinkerbell16]

It's the evening. There is no sound. The wild is quiet now, a rare instance, but I've come to expect nights such as these.

 

The darkness is thick and the air is warm and pasty. I stand near the river where the moon reflects off the water. I've found myself in a deeply dissatisfying position; no place to go and no place to be. It's not like I was living for this anyway, and it's not like I had false hope. I just expected something different. Something palpable and real by this point. But life said, "No." I have no choice but to agree.

 

I can't hear myself sob. I can't hear the water running. There is literally no reason to not scream. And scream, I do, at least inside. At first.

 

I kneel down to find a rock resting at my foot. I contemplate bashing in my own skull and wonder why I couldn't have just slipped and fallen on the stone instead. Oh well. Here goes.

 

I chuck it. I throw it so hard that my screams release into the silent dark. I pick up another rock. And another. Then another. I throw them as far and high as I can, just like the dreams I used to dream that are now as dead as the rocks themselves.

 

And that's all I can do. That's the power I'm limited to. It's the reality of things.

 

Then I cry. For my mistakes.

 

Hi Lost... actually scratch that... Hi Wild

I tried to reply to your message but I don't think I can use that feature

 

That, or I am not as tech savvy as I need to be.

 

Please dont let fear of the unknown stop you in pursuing a publisher.

 

I had no idea what I was doing when I started my companies. It was a leap of faith.

 

Doing what you love and are passionate about is such a blessing.

 

It's why it feels so good for you to write.

 

Don't stop!

[LostInTheWild]

There's the change I've been waiting for. It crept on me, slowly, one night a couple of weeks ago. After going to the store and finding a new perfume I'd come to cherish, I decided it was time. I was done. I don't want to smoke any longer. My throat hurt. So I quit. I don't need it anymore.

 

And, on the same day, as I stuffed fries in my mouth, I decided I didn't want that lifestyle any longer. I want more fruit and more vegetables. I wanted to be healthier. That week, I packed salads and fruit, vegetables and nuts, oats and pretzel sticks for lunch. Each day, after eating, I walked instead of creeping away in my car, full of shame, to chain smoke.

 

The downside to all this is my coworker who openly smokes comes over to talk to me and gets super close, and now that I can smell, he ****ing stinks. His breath smells like ass dowsed with gasoline and set on fire in a field of cow crap. I don't think I got to the point of wreaking like that, but non smokers aren't dumb. You can't hide that. And I absolutely can't stand being around the smell. The funny thing is, during my quit attempts in the past, I'd longingly stand in someone's cloud of smoke and crave a cigarette. The smoke turns my stomach now. So, let's hope it sticks. I think it will.

 

I'm also trying to get back into running, but my hip is bad. It clicks at rest and when I make quick movements. I still try, though. I try to listen to my body better, whereas before I'd push to the brink of total collapse. I know I need to see a doctor for it. But today, I went out and did it. I stretched in the sun, near the river, and took in deep breaths. As I stretched my legs, and began to run, I let my lungs fill with the sweet air and took it all in. I ran until I couldn't, but I listened to my body and stopped before I hurt. Yep, doing all the new age bullcrap.

 

Work is going okay, but the longer I'm there, the more I'm beginning to notice my background hasn't actually been checked. They apparently have no idea I've been charged with a DUI, nor do they know my credit is shot, and the most shocking, somehow it was assumed that I have a degree. I don't. I was close but couldn't afford to finish it. And I didn't feel like going to school anymore. How do I fix this? The temp agency obviously didn't disclose any ****ing facts about me and now I'll be left holding my dick in my hand when they go to hire me on. What I'm hoping for is early release from probation so that I can at least have one positive thing going for me.

 

Anyway, I have also been crushing pretty hard on the boss' son for a few weeks now (maybe longer), even going so far as to try my hand at being an opportunist and telling him, after he said he couldn't get anyone to go out with him, that I would. After waiting a few days for the invitation somewhere, I realized how ridiculous it was and decided to let it go. And every ****ing time I do that, boom. He flirts and I start wondering again. So, being five years older than him, I'm working on trying to find those stitches of maturity I know exist somewhere in my mind and using them to shut down my attraction towards him. It's hard though because it's so much fun. And hey, I'm not getting attention from anyone else. C'est la vie. All over again.

 

It's funny because now that I'm older, I feel more ready to make changes, but at the same time, I feel like I'm right where I was before I lost my job. Searching for something. Looking for anything. Trying not to feel so lonely. Hoping a change I make will push me in the right direction. Each day, believing that I'll either race to the end, or take my time getting there with someone I love. It's just not my choice to make. Things happen or they don't. That's all there is.

[LostInTheWild]

Pulling out clothes to try on for work the next day (huge time saver), I could close my eyes and literally remember every moment surrounding the times I wore whatever item I was holding.

 

I walk down the street and look at the park where I used to exercise when I first moved here. I wasn't happy then, not to say I'm actually happy now, but I'm getting there. That was back when I was desperately hoping I'd meet someone special. I prefer to forget things like this.

 

I hate where I live. I want to move out of here. I don't care about holding the job but I don't want the job to hold me here. I know I'll never be blissfully happy here. It's just...what I thought I wanted. But it isn't. After being raped by life, it's like I just can never enjoy being here again, even though it sparkles sometimes; deceptively so.

 

I wanted this to be a huge change for me, a bright ray of light in my life and instead, it was the darkest of the dark. I still see blackness most days, even though I try to be happy and positive. I try to love it. It's just...this place has treated me even worse than where I came from. Where can I go now? I want more.

 

I want to leave my old life behind. I want to reinvent myself while I still can. Maybe even change my perspective on life.

 

A neighbor of mine came by and spoke with me for a bit before we went out to eat a couple of weeks ago. I had just met him but he was cool I thought, why not? He sat down next to me and said, "I've seen you around. Everyone always said you look mean, but I knew better than that. I don't really know what happened to you, but just know that I've been there. You look like you've been through a lot. It does get better." Now, typically I hate that. But having someone tell me that who didn't know me, well, it shocked me.

 

I can't seem to shed my old life. I won't be rid of it until I get away. I have to escape.

[LostInTheWild]

I furiously painted my nails last night before I went to bed. I let them dry just long enough, and this morning I awoke to a nightmarish horror full of bubbles (the ladies will know what I'm talking about).

 

I got home late last night because I went to see my mom and dad. Dad was leaving for a trip today, so I wanted to see him before he went. His suitcase seemed a little too big for how long he'd be gone and for the length of his trip home on the motorcycle. A part of me wonders if he will even come back. I tell myself that if he loves me, he will. He won't just vanish from my life. Then again, he has children he left behind before. I try not to think about it this way, because someday either he will be gone permanently, or I will move away for good. I feel like I live with too many of my mom's choices anyhow (being born, being named, coming back to this country, moving to this state).

 

I guess I just had an emotional day, tuning out the crush as I worked, and mentally stomping on the feelings, then setting them on fire. It's okay though, because even though my mind wandered a lot today, I've been killing it at work. I was allowed a break. I'm learning complicated material. I'm given the room to learn, the time to grow, and the space to do what I need in order to make it work. Plus extra. It's appreciated. I feel appreciated.

 

My coworker is young, and he is getting married on Saturday. I thought it would just be the small group of us, but then lunch time rolled around and I found they had invited his fiance. This pretty, little, young thing. Fresh skin, fresh smile, fresh attitude. Obliviously happy. I immediately had a flashback to when I was her age, maybe five or six years ago. Back then, when I could say, "Someone loves me." Even though it wasn't a great relationship. At the end of the day, I at least had someone ready to listen (or I could make him pretend to), I at least had someone who could hold me. At least I had that much. At least I had that love and care. I didn't have to do it all alone.

 

Let me update my list of things that I have to do alone now. I have no drinking buddy now that I can afford alcohol again. It's not a great path to go down, but I'd rather love alcohol than cigarettes because it's occasional. I have to go to the store to buy Raid because there's nobody here to kill the centipedes and they terrify me. When something cosmetic break on my car, I either have to figure it out myself or let it ride. Nobody tells me I look pretty or thin or better than ever. I don't have anyone to fawn over me when I feel sick or when my hip hurts (ah, welcome to my life, old age). Nobody misses me. In fact, I annoy some people because they can never understand the depth of my loneliness. I still feel like during my early-to-mid-20's I was running forward, and now I am either running backwards or jogging in place. I can't breathe. I know I don't need anyone, that much is true, but I feel like I need something. More, more, more...

 

And so, I stood in the cramped, tiny kitchen when the lights flicked on. "SURPRISE!!!" I heard someone shout. I was too late to reciprocate, so instead I supplied my handy, loving smile when the happy couple united in the kitchen. Suddenly, it got too crowded and too muggy. I stepped outside and waited for everyone else to gather their food.

 

This feeling I haven't felt, nor did I expect to feel, clouded my mind and I found it hard to be sincere and smile through it. It was not a feeling of jealousy. I'm never jealous anymore, because I figure that life is life. Someone's song will always be more beautiful than mine. Someone will love mine more. Someone will tell others about it. I understand we aren't different from each other in the fact that we will be different. Young and old. I appreciate everyone for the immaturity and experience they have, because it means I will keep learning. Even when others can't see that. I can. I will always appreciate it. There is a reason I've been called an old soul...I get along with everyone.

 

I just wish my own life was filled with the beauty I see in others. I'm not so sure it's about "having," rather, than it is more about being able to relate and fit in. I feel...perplexed. I ask, "Why me?" I hate that I've become the example of what not to do, as I frequently experience when I hear someone mention a path that frighteningly aligns with my own. But unfortunately, I find myself being the "what not to do" in a group of people. I guess I sound negative, but it's all so true. Life can be the most negative experience or, if you fill in the lines and don't etch outside of them, life can be mediocre...or even great.

 

Suddenly, with my gathering of food, I found myself plopped in my coworker's office. I didn't want to eat alone with the swelling in my throat. I felt like I was going to snap again, but very quietly, like just leaving and driving somewhere close to the ocean. Just wade into the tide. No muss. No fuss.

 

"Let me tell you my story going back three years. You know I lost my house, but let me tell you everything surrounding that," I said, shoveling food into my mouth. "It all started when..." I spilled. This guy knows a few things about me that haven't been spread around, so I trusted him with a few tidbits of information.

 

You know the story if you've read this far...And I only gave him a few highlights.

 

"I thought I was going to marry this guy. I thought he was the love of my life, but I wasted so much time. Yeah well he cheated. A few years later I found myself single and dated x, y, and z. And I met this guy, but after six months, he broke my heart. [Voice cracks] I still love him. He got married a year and a half later. Ex had a baby. Lost job. Lost house. Dated a couple of married men. Swore off dating. Credit is ruined. Here I am. And I still want to leave."

 

I got the same reply as always. When people don't really know what to say, except he had a few stories to share. None as horrible as mine, but mostly all pertained to job loss. I told him that I HAD to date online because nobody ever approached me. I told him I was all alone and how difficult this **** really is. How I have to buy all this Raid to kill centipedes. How I'm afraid of creepy neighbors. How I can't understand why I'm not liked enough to be spoken to.

 

"You're intimidating because you're very attractive."

 

A sentiment I haven't had spoken to me in ages. Attractive? No matter how well I do my makeup, no matter how well I dress, no matter how much I pretend to be confident, I am none of those things. But, like the good little American I am, I say, "Thank you, but...I don't see why." And I don't. I see ugly when I look in the mirror until I put my makeup on, then later in the day I see myself and think, "There's that ugly 30-year-old."

 

And I know why...

 

I don't contain enough care in the world to prop myself up high enough to look at myself and think otherwise. To me, I am just like everyone else. I can be just as ugly, or maybe sometimes pretty if I drink enough. I can be anything or anyone, from day-to-day. I also know that having another person in my life who loves me and takes the time to polish me also enhances my self-esteem, although I am one of those women who frequently asks, "Does this make me look fat? What do you think?" And you know, it is always a trick question.

 

I sat in my car, talking to my therapist the other day, telling her why I didn't think my life would work out. Keep in mind, I don't frequently think of these things, but they are always there, like when the wooden blinds pop out of their holder and fall on me, scraping my legs, and I have to get a hammer and a chair to fix it while I'm still gushing blood. It's awesome. She really can't find any rebuttals for why I should hang around here. I mean, I know she has some, but we've already had these conversations before. What can she tell me now? "Be yourself. Do yoga at 4:30AM each day. Drink beer one day per week and only have half of one. Kiss all your friends on the cheek. Take pictures of everything beautiful." There's only so much I can do. So often I feel shackled to one life. I don't know how to change it without spending thousands of dollars. I don't know how to do it while making a few dollars here and there, because I don't make enough now, while I'm trying to eat healthy and fix everything. I can't fix anything. I can't fix it. I can fix government records, but I can't put a patch on the hole in my life. I can't hide pain. And when I sat back down at my desk, my body trembled. This is PTSD for the civilian who hasn't yet endured a full-blown shooting/mugging/bullying/beating/killing (yet; coming to a town near you).

 

But, I still felt like I'd never get over it. I felt like the pain would always exist. And for me, it might. It might always be there. Even if I get married, or have children, or travel, or do anything. It will ALWAYS be there because I won't ever forget. And then I'll be just like my mother; overprotective, overbearing, and fearful of life. Except I've taken more risks than anyone I've known thus far. Except, this time, I've done more things than the average Joe. I don't want to be like her. I don't want to be like my father. I don't want to be like you. I don't want to be like my coworker. I want to be different. How? I don't know. This thread IS a start though. I've got a few pages more written than most. I don't know what to do with it though. And I can't say it's good. It's probably not.

 

Anyway, the feeling of sickness lasted for a long time. It lasted through the luncheon. It lasted through the last few hours of the last of the day. It burned and stung.

 

The day before, I told my therapist, "Humans are a virus. We keep reproducing and destroying our planet. Nothing positive will come of this and I'm so reluctant to have children. I don't know what will happen to them, if anyone ever wanted to have children with me and I don't have long to choose." The truth is, I don't. If we want to live in fantasy land and share anecdotes, I might have a snowball's chance in hell. The truth is, I have six years left to choose if I want healthy, sexually-contracted children. I don't think about this because I don't know when someone will even graze my shoulder again so...my eggs might rot inside of me before I get the chance to say, "You know, I was wrong, the American dream isn't dead. Let's have kids baby." And...that kind of requires a man if I'm broke like I am now. So...there's always that. And the fact that if I want children (if ever), I have to meet someone I want to replicate with. I think this is life's prank on me. Let's gather round now and laugh! "A-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Yeah...I think the next guy I date will have a story that goes like this, "I stroked it for years before I met you..." *roll eyes*

 

And then, to my therapist, I admitted the deepest of the dark, "I don't know if anyone will ever tell me they love me again." Barring parental units (sometimes), and puppy-eyed coworkers and puppy-eyed puppies, who will tell me he loves me again? Who will look at me again with love in his eyes and how will I know? I don't know, but I think that getting old and not knowing the answer to this is the most scariest thing I've ever known. Dying is easy. Leaving the people you love isn't. If all I have to love are my married friends, married cousins, pregnant everyone's...then who has the time to even love a mythical creature who hides in the shadows with a can of Raid and a bag of trash? Nobody. And that's what I told my newfound friend who says nothing negative about me at work. And like everyone else in my life, with a simple explanation of my history, I feel he is acting in a way that attempts to protect me from suicide. That's not even on the agenda at this point, but I'm waiting to be old, wrinkly and alone for that. So maybe 37? 45? I don't know. In a few years, I'll contend with that when people tell me the reason I'm single isn't because I'm too intimidating, but the reason why is because I'm an ass 9++++hat, *******.

 

Do you guys have another 14 years to go? I guarantee I do because someone has it out for me. Let me know how hilarious it will be to see me get impaled by a trash truck, or smothered by a kids balloon thing, or Barbie decides I need to die. Maybe I'll need chemo and it won't work, or I'll get killed in a crash. Or maybe Santa will run over me when I'm standing on a rooftop trying to turn my own electricity back on. If I'm really lucky, maybe the tooth fairy will bring me a thousand dollars to contribute to mowing my lawn and repairing the gas heater before I blow up because she knows I'm bankrupt!

 

Let's keep the guesses rolling in, because as far as I can tell, the forecast is rain, rain, muggy, sun, rain, pour.

[LostInTheWild]

After writing my last post, I was feeling hungry. So, I decided to go out and grab something to eat. I walked the long way to the restaurant and sat in a bar stool. I took it all in. When was the last time I had this control over myself and my life?

 

I ordered myself some drinks and some food and sat there. I enjoyed it. Then, a man walked in. Totally not my type, but cool as hell. Cool enough to give him a chance and cool enough to have him walk me home after posting pictures and videos all over snapchat. My new friend...

 

He told me it was a long walk and that he would like to come inside, and me being me...you know that's never a problem! Well, we hung out all night and into the early morning hours, sipping a beer and me reading some of my posts to him. I think I'll name him "Stranger in the Night." Anyway, I hadn't had a member of the opposite sex listen to me like that before, or at least it's been awhile since pillow talk happened. It's like the desert over here, guys. Full of pits and canyons...sigh... So, then he read me a lovely poem and admitted that he loved writing too! What?! I was excited about him, then he says, "By the way, I would like to kiss you." Umm...nah...I told him maybe some other time as I wasn't going there tonight. Then he tells me that he's married and getting a divorce! He proved it by reading off some texts he had sent to someone else, but...still, he was going to be investigated (by me) and nothing was going down. Then he asked to sleep here because he was tired and (it was true) he had walked quite a distance from where he parked. I told him it was fine and he held me for a couple of hours before I had to get up in the morning. And. Nothing. Happened.

 

We had made plans for the next night. I figure, why not? Because this is all my life's ever going to be. A bunch of married/divorced/struggling men now since all the quality men my age are at the hospital watching their first born children crawl through the tunnel to see the first day of light. Anyway, I got super dressed up, ready for a couple of hours of hanging out and interacting with someone who cared that I wrote something that doesn't matter but mattered to me. I hiked up to the restaurant and sat down. I waited, texted, and waited. I was stood up! For the first time...ever...and you know, the guy was probably still deeply entrenched in his marriage. Another ****ing liar, but a liar that didn't win. **** it, I went out anyway and had the time of my life. I met up with my neighbor and we danced the night away (and it's still desert-like here, so don't get it twisted—not happening).

 

After my neighbor left, the party continued. I danced and danced and even kissed a young guy. Then I started walking as far as I could in order to grab a cab, but ran into some starving musicians and bought them some food. One walked as far as he could towards where I live before he turned back, so then I called my cab to take me the rest of the way. And for a drunken party night, I have to say I felt pretty good about helping some people.

 

A couple of days later, I ran into my neighbor, the one who had told me how sad I looked before. I walked up to his car window and he said, "You know, there is something different about you." I thought he was going to tell me I've completely lost control and that I looked even more miserable than usual, but he didn't. He said, "You look happier."

 

Is that even possible? I checked to make sure my boobs weren't flung around my neck or something. He must be wrong because ****ed up stuff still keeps happening to me, by fault or by choice. It's still there. So my only assumption is that I'm just adjusting and adapting to the bull**** in my life. It finally works for me, or I've finally found a way to make it work for my life. I mean, if I didn't have a ****ty story to tell here, who would read it?

 

Nobody wants to read, "My parents got me a pony and a horse farm on 200 acres of land. I love brushing my Rapunzel-like blonde hair. My skin glows in the sun everyday, no matter how much I drink. And, no matter how much I drink, I never age. My boyfriend is a prince of some other country, and he doesn't fart. He's perfect for me and I, perfect for him. I've had two kids and look like I'm 14, but we are getting married in the fall. Life is so awesome!" Sigh...right...

 

No...what I think about everyday the sun shines is, "Where to now?" Jesus take the wheel. I don't want to think about it anymore. The sun illuminates my path and offers me choices so clear, that I can now see, but in my human mind, have no idea how to act on them. I don't know how to choose or work towards goals.

 

The problem is, I don't know if this is all life will ever be for me. And I'm not quite sure I want this. Working all the time to come home to a hot ****ing oven-apartment that isn't mine and is crawling with centipedes...Living on the first floor, too paranoid to leave the window open but too hot to care and barely sleeping at night because of it. Getting out of the shower every morning and sweating so much while getting ready that applying lotion sucks and I'm too drenched and tired to do my hair by the end of it all. Not having a closet to put my belongings in and digging through boxes in order to figure out what to wear. Every. Day.

 

I've perfected that smile. The smile that says, "I'm just like you," in public. My "thank you's" fool everyone. The glint in my eye is false. The confidence might be real, but everything else just isn't. Money can buy freedom, but it cannot buy happiness. I am still in deadlock, uncertain of highlighted choices, but certain I want to leave. Leave...what does that even mean? I think of leaving as in moving far away, and being so happy I can't stop smiling. Utopia. It exists somewhere, right? Or leave...as in letting my health deteriorate, never seeing a doctor, and forcing myself into passing. I can't decide, because it seems as I get older, I keep having funny symptoms, and I'm not sure I want someone to tell me when I'll die. Maybe getting drunk and delirious sometimes while dancing the night away, feeling pretty once in awhile, might be all I was meant for. At this rate, I'll never meet anyone worth the trouble, nor will I ever bear children, and I'll never be rich (I'm okay with that). I just spend half the time wondering why I'm even here. Even when people try to convince me that I matter to them. I have trouble believing it.

 

I don't know how long I can pretend that this is enough. I strap myself up in makeup and decent clothes during the week so that I don't explode into a million piece. I have to tie it down with an anchor and pretend I'm happy. To get through work, to offer a nod to my parents that life is just grand, text my friends that I'm just dandy, and I've found that with a job, nobody wants to listen anymore. I'm no longer tagged for suicide I guess. I still breathe, and I even pay taxes now. How exciting. I'm a worker bee, out pollinating, so they can grow while I keep getting smashed and have to sting. I just don't fit in. Maybe I should move away and change my phone number. Start off clean. Nobody would care anyhow, but it's funny, at funerals everybody shows up to pretend they care. When my mom dies, I've got a speech for that. And I know I won't have any family left afterwards. I'm prepared for it. The only speech I'll ever give. To sever ties.

 

"I look upon you all here, today, to mourn the death of my mother. A troubled woman, she was, and I'm glad you could come to celebrate this day, although sad, it may be. Thank you for coming.

 

"What I wonder, however, is where you were when she was alive and needed you? Why are people only good for showing up when things aren't positive? Why is family that way? Why are our friends?

 

"Why are you here now? I really want you to ask yourselves this, because you obviously left her to rot in her condo when she moved. And the people here who have faces are faceless to me, because where were you when I had to deal with her worsening health? Nowhere. And nowhere, you shall stay, in my memory.

 

"Do not apologize for my loss. Do not shed a tear. I will take her hard-earned American flag home with me to remember her so you can forget, and forget you will, because you will forget me, too. Because I have already forgotten you all, as I look upon you, the way you have forgotten my mother.

 

"But please, cry for her memory. The memory you have of her smiling at you for the last time. The memory you all have when you turned your back on my mother. You may forget, but forget, I never shall. Let this be a lesson, a lesson in being family. Let it teach you what it means to love someone. Even if you barely could, like me and my mother. I was still there. Where were you?

 

"And don't think she doesn't know of this. I read this to her before she passed. She thought it was fitting, although, she didn't want me to lose what family I had left. I say, you are all dead to me, even though you weren't dead to my mother. Do not come to my funeral. It won't be worth your time. Don't pretend you love either of us by being present. Don't pretend at all."

 

And so...I still have to read this to her, but I'm pretty sure it sums up her feelings. I just feel like it will enrage me to see people upset who tell me they knew her back in the 90's and then offer me a tissue. **** you. And add to the fact that we never were invited to anything...I know people get busy, but don't show up then. I plan to read that. I really do. And to be honest, I don't think she has a lot longer to go. I don't think either of my parents do. I could be wrong, but I've got to gear up for it, I guess. Even though I think they were lousy parents, they still deserve a 21-gun salute, and for me to tell everyone what they really thought when they couldn't.

 

Anyway, today I went into work. I had a terrible day. My boss was angry and we could all feel it. The tensions rippled throughout the business. I thought I was being the best until I realized I'd screwed up something important.

 

I prepared to be screamed at as the frightening horror of what I'd done finally shone down on my keyboard. I walked into his office and closed the door. I'm getting used to this. I'm getting used to not being good enough. I'm getting used to screwing up. I'm getting used to being someone that nobody wants. "I screwed up and I'm closing the door so you can scream at me," I said while pulling up a chair to my boss' desk. I looked down and explained the mistake I had made, a typo, which may or may not have cost us a customer.

 

After explaining, he said, "I'm not going to scream at you, LITW. You're doing a great job! It isn't the mistakes I care about, it's how you fix them and that's what's important to me. In fact, I spoke to my boss and we are bringing you on next month."

 

I almost cried while sitting in his office. I was so upset. I hate making mistakes, actually, despite all the ones I made here. I'm someone else in my professional life. Someone none of you know.

 

To hear him say those words, I felt free at last. I'm not always going to work for *******s. Some people will be generous with me, and patient, and understanding as I learn and grow. I felt free, because, I've been waiting for this for so long. It broke my heart. And I think he was scared he was going to make me cry. All the guys laughed at me when I told them what I did before I went in to see my boss. They told me I was getting in trouble and made it so much worse...

 

I walked out of his office and I knew how much I mattered then, but I still wonder about the other issues I have going on. The background check won't be good and I wonder how he will take it.

 

All I can do for now, is be the best...and save my paychecks.

[LostInTheWild]

Yes, the vines...

 

I find myself out in a field, close to the forest, still in the wild.

 

I open my eyes to see the sun beaming down on me and struggle to stand. But I can't. Something is holding me down, something is, the vines are...I notice them as I look around. They are tied around my wrists. The mystical vines have me pinned down to the wild ground. I know there's no fighting this. I am captured.

 

As I struggle, I feel something pooling around my bottom half. Something warm and familiar. It's wet and heavy. I struggle some more, and feel it pour from my body. It's my fertility. My clock is still click-clocking away although my mind hasn't been. I've long forgotten this happens, because it's so easy to escape after a few days.

 

The night falls, the day rises, and falls again, and the day returns. I lay there, pinned for four days and counting. The trees mock me with their shade. The bugs begin to swarm. The dress that is already stained, becomes red. The blood almost cleanses me. Could it be that I will never bear children? I think, as I lay in the field, watching my dress change into a rich burgundy. Or could it be that my life is changing? Or could it be that I am changing? Or is it just...my body failing me, again?

 

I feel the blood rush down my arms from my struggle. The vines are cutting into my veins. I don't want to need a doctor, but this may beckon me to civilization; back to the bridge that keeps me separate from them. I've been here for so long, what would a doctor tell me now?

 

I look up at my sleeves and they slowly turn red as each day passes. The dirt is completely erased, leaving a richness in red color I've never seen. I look down at my dress, which turns even more each day as it stains. I look at my feet, and they are pale, almost as though they are emptying themselves, ridding themselves of toxins.

 

Each morning I come to, I fade mentally a little more. I'm tired. I'm dehydrated. I'm losing too much blood. And it's staining the black dress that was once white. I scream and only crows fly away; nobody comes to help. This isn't something I anticipated. I expected someone to be nearby, but after all these years, why should I wonder anymore? I know the answer: nobody is coming.

 

Tomorrow, I fully expect a red gown. And a new health problem. The vines release me as they've dried and become brittle enough for me to break free. I stand, for the first time in days. The blood rushes down my legs and from my arms. I have a red gown. And it glows in the dusk. I can only collapse to my knees. My health is fading.

 

I'm not sure what to make of this, so I crawl to the river, because I'm thirsty, and because I have to clean myself. I'm left, though, with a bright, shiny red dress, still tattered, but the most beautiful I've seen. It marks the start of a new phase of my life, be it positive or negative. Only the doctor will know after my journey, if need be, to him tomorrow. For now, I will rest on the branch of the willow tree that has become my home.

 

The moonlight shines on me, and the brilliant red is breathtaking. Maybe I'll never reproduce. Maybe I will. I wanted a baby, at least one. Even when I said I didn't. I do. But I'm too tired to think about that. Maybe the wild will be quiet enough to let me sleep tonight.

Edited July 27, 2016 by LostInTheWild

[tinkerbell16]

Yes, the vines...

 

I find myself out in a field, close to the forest, still in the wild.

 

I open my eyes to see the sun beaming down on me and struggle to stand. But I can't. Something is holding me down, something is, the vines are...I notice them as I look around. They are tied around my wrists. The mystical vines have me pinned down to the wild ground. I know there's no fighting this. I am captured.

 

As I struggle, I feel something pooling around my bottom half. Something warm and familiar. It's wet and heavy. I struggle some more, and feel it pour from my body. It's my fertility. My clock is still click-clocking away although my mind hasn't been. I've long forgotten this happens, because it's so easy to escape after a few days.

 

The night falls, the day rises, and falls again, and the day returns. I lay there, pinned for four days and counting. The trees mock me with their shade. The bugs begin to swarm. The dress that is already stained, becomes red. The blood almost cleanses me. Could it be that I will never bear children? I think, as I lay in the field, watching my dress change into a rich burgundy. Or could it be that my life is changing? Or could it be that I am changing? Or is it just...my body failing me, again?

 

I feel the blood rush down my arms from my struggle. The vines are cutting into my veins. I don't want to need a doctor, but this may beckon me to civilization; back to the bridge that keeps me separate from them. I've been here for so long, what would a doctor tell me now?

 

I look up at my sleeves and they slowly turn red as each day passes. The dirt is completely erased, leaving a richness in red color I've never seen. I look down at my dress, which turns even more each day as it stains. I look at my feet, and they are pale, almost as though they are emptying themselves, ridding themselves of toxins.

 

Each morning I come to, I fade mentally a little more. I'm tired. I'm dehydrated. I'm losing too much blood. And it's staining the black dress that was once white. I scream and only crows fly away; nobody comes to help. This isn't something I anticipated. I expected someone to be nearby, but after all these years, why should I wonder anymore? I know the answer: nobody is coming.

 

Tomorrow, I fully expect a red gown. And a new health problem. The vines release me as they've dried and become brittle enough for me to break free. I stand, for the first time in days. The blood rushes down my legs and from my arms. I have a red gown. And it glows in the dusk. I can only collapse to my knees. My health is fading.

 

I'm not sure what to make of this, so I crawl to the river, because I'm thirsty, and because I have to clean myself. I'm left, though, with a bright, shiny red dress, still tattered, but the most beautiful I've seen. It marks the start of a new phase of my life, be it positive or negative. Only the doctor will know after my journey, if need be, to him tomorrow. For now, I will rest on the branch of the willow tree that has become my home.

 

The moonlight shines on me, and the brilliant red is breathtaking. Maybe I'll never reproduce. Maybe I will. I wanted a baby, at least one. Even when I said I didn't. I do. But I'm too tired to think about that. Maybe the wild will be quiet enough to let me sleep tonight.

 

simply beautiful...

[LostInTheWild]

Around this time a few years ago, I mourned the loss of my boyfriend. I thought I had wasted so many years and too much time on him. It hurt like hell to lose someone I loved, but it hurt even more to face the fact that he never loved me.

 

To this day, I believe I went the better part of that relationship being unloved; or loved for only the lifestyle I represented to him. It just didn't work out. I can't change the choices I made. I can't change the choices he made. It doesn't help to regret, but it does help to forgive and forget. I think today, I'm finally ready to forgive so that I can forget. He will never know, but maybe this is the final choice I have to make in order to let go of the anger. I can't start my story with, "My ex and I..." It shouldn't have started that way to begin with. And it shouldn't end that way.

 

Six days ago marked my three-year anniversary here. For the past two years, I posted on that very day. A tribute to my pain. To remember. To say, "Look what he did to me!" "He ****ed up my life!" "I have nobody!" Well, I say there's no point in that. I don't need that day anymore. Truth be told, I forgot about it this year. It felt like any other Tuesday, watching the clock, waiting for 5pm to go home and enjoy my after-work routine.

 

I'm changing gears, turning a new page, ready to leap and see where I land. This job I have, it's okay to hold onto it for a while until I can't anymore. It's just soul-crushing to go in everyday and remember that it's not something I want to do. I want to travel. I want to see the world.

 

And so, me and my friend who lives in Australia are starting a travel blog. We are both kind of in the same position, just breezing through life, trying to overcome heartbreak. We both need to get out more. And so we are doing it. We hope it grows so that we never have to feel like we are working again.

 

But still...I wonder if whether on a train, plane, or boat...will I be running from something? Can I not accept this life here? Or must I become well-traveled and cultured and THEN feel like I'm ready? Ready for what though? I think my greatest fear is traveling and then still wondering, is this all there is? I don't think that'll be the case but I still wonder. If I wasn't curious, I think it would be inhuman of me.

 

Then I have blood tests tomorrow to find out what might be plaguing me. I keep thinking if I get bad news, I'm ready to accept that. I'll keep working and travel as much as I can until the end because I don't have the energy to fight anymore. People with families have a reason to not give up. I don't have that reason.

 

Today, I was driving home from work and thought about how I don't remember what love is. If someone reaches to touch my arm in casual conversation, I pull away or have to consciously hold it in place to accept the touch. But most times, I just pull away. It's jarring and causes panic. I haven't figured that out yet.

 

If I'm like this now, after three years, then I don't foresee this changing. A perfectly ruined mess. I can't gauge attraction or interest. And I don't have the energy to give it one last go. Hell, I don't even have the energy to fight for my life.

 

As quickly as I opened the door will be as quietly as I close it.

[tinkerbell16]

Around this time a few years ago, I mourned the loss of my boyfriend. I thought I had wasted so many years and too much time on him. It hurt like hell to lose someone I loved, but it hurt even more to face the fact that he never loved me.

 

To this day, I believe I went the better part of that relationship being unloved; or loved for only the lifestyle I represented to him. It just didn't work out. I can't change the choices I made. I can't change the choices he made. It doesn't help to regret, but it does help to forgive and forget. I think today, I'm finally ready to forgive so that I can forget. He will never know, but maybe this is the final choice I have to make in order to let go of the anger. I can't start my story with, "My ex and I..." It shouldn't have started that way to begin with. And it shouldn't end that way.

 

Six days ago marked my three-year anniversary here. For the past two years, I posted on that very day. A tribute to my pain. To remember. To say, "Look what he did to me!" "He ****ed up my life!" "I have nobody!" Well, I say there's no point in that. I don't need that day anymore. Truth be told, I forgot about it this year. It felt like any other Tuesday, watching the clock, waiting for 5pm to go home and enjoy my after-work routine.

 

I'm changing gears, turning a new page, ready to leap and see where I land. This job I have, it's okay to hold onto it for a while until I can't anymore. It's just soul-crushing to go in everyday and remember that it's not something I want to do. I want to travel. I want to see the world.

 

And so, me and my friend who lives in Australia are starting a travel blog. We are both kind of in the same position, just breezing through life, trying to overcome heartbreak. We both need to get out more. And so we are doing it. We hope it grows so that we never have to feel like we are working again.

 

But still...I wonder if whether on a train, plane, or boat...will I be running from something? Can I not accept this life here? Or must I become well-traveled and cultured and THEN feel like I'm ready? Ready for what though? I think my greatest fear is traveling and then still wondering, is this all there is? I don't think that'll be the case but I still wonder. If I wasn't curious, I think it would be inhuman of me.

 

Then I have blood tests tomorrow to find out what might be plaguing me. I keep thinking if I get bad news, I'm ready to accept that. I'll keep working and travel as much as I can until the end because I don't have the energy to fight anymore. People with families have a reason to not give up. I don't have that reason.

 

Today, I was driving home from work and thought about how I don't remember what love is. If someone reaches to touch my arm in casual conversation, I pull away or have to consciously hold it in place to accept the touch. But most times, I just pull away. It's jarring and causes panic. I haven't figured that out yet.

 

If I'm like this now, after three years, then I don't foresee this changing. A perfectly ruined mess. I can't gauge attraction or interest. And I don't have the energy to give it one last go. Hell, I don't even have the energy to fight for my life.

 

As quickly as I opened the door will be as quietly as I close it.

 

Hi litw,

How are you doing?

Tink

[LostInTheWild]

Many, many days later I feel ready to write since my last check in.

 

And I'm alone in a city full of 8 million people.

 

It wasn't supposed to be just me, a solo trip. But for the second time in my life, I've been left stranded.

 

Allow me to rewind.

 

My friend from Australia, whom I started a blog with, took her tour of Canada and the states. In her tour, she included a few days respite in NYC in order to spend time with me. We've known of each other's existence for 6 years. We laughed and cried about our exes together.

 

I got here yesterday. I leave on Wednesday. Our blog was a month old.

 

I awoke to a fully-clothed Australian, jittery and looking lost. She tells me she doesn't want to do the blog. I'm okay with that. She then tells me she doesn't want to continue the trip, it's not my fault, she just wants to be alone and this experience has taught her that she has to reevaluate her life.

 

She books a room elsewhere and pretty much leaves me. In a city of 8 million people. Alone.

 

I didn't do anything to her. And I'm not sure what brought this on. I had high hopes that our friendship would continue and that we'd go on to be successful bloggers at some point. She likes to write and I did too.

 

Reporting live from NYC amidst the hustle and bustle. Leaving in a few days. Hoping to again, reorient myself to find the direction I'm supposed to go in.

[LostInTheWild]

"The trees are changing," I thought, on the train ride home. I was holding a 40 of beer tucked between the seat and myself. I took another gulp.

 

The trip wasn't what I wanted. I should have just come home. I called my other friend and she and her two kids came up. I basically spent the whole trip living in Disneyland. Pushing a stroller, listening to two toddlers fight in an upscale restaurant, trying to drink myself into oblivion but never quite arriving where I wanted to be to block out the horrible journey straight to hell my life is. One morning, I went outside to smoke, came back and the hotel room was covered in yogurt while one alien sat peacefully, freshly bathed, covered in yogurt while watching a show on his iPad. Sigh...

 

I swear, I have no idea when my life became such a joke. I drank some more of my 40 as I let the hatred build inside of me as someone whom I trusted and spoke to everyday was now a distant memory.

 

I did discover New York City in ways I never thought I would, however, because of my other friend who technically, kind of saved the day by showing up. It wasn't all tragic as I love her very much but it was a nightmare for someone who doesn't have kids. I discovered that it might not be so bad living there. People make it sound horrible but it absolutely isn't. There are OPTIONS. Things to SEE. The best food I've ever had. Drug stores sell the best food and the worst food. The choice is yours how you want to care for your body. The people are beautiful. The languages are incredible. I still felt alive every time I looked around and looked up.

 

I wanted to live there. Then I looked up the cost of living. Ha... I'm stuck here, in living hell, in Pennsyltucky with narrow minds and conservative attitudes.

 

And then I found myself on the train, mad, and thinking of ways to tell people what a good time I had, even though it wasn't. I don't want anyone to know that I had a ****ty time. That's the beauty of being me. I lie now, to pretend that I'm happy.

 

But since I've been back, I've begun to understand that there is some force that just wants to hold me down here. I know, I know...I'm pulling the victim card again but after this trip and the blog went sour, what am I supposed to think? I thought I was doing something positive and that's been taken too.

 

I sat in my therapist's chair last week and told her the same thing I've been telling her for three years but this time I didn't cry or get upset. I just said it all as matter-of-factly as I could, with a bored tone, almost challenging her to offer me a new perspective this time. I had to stop talking at one point and ask her what the problem was. She was staring at me in utter horror. Then I just shrugged and said, "Fix that."

 

I notice now when I go to work, I'm quieter than I ever have been. Pleasant though, when spoken to, but almost working away in a catatonic state. This is what I was born for; waking up to go to work, to come home to my parents' house, watch some beauty videos on YouTube, then going to sleep.

 

Dad tries to engage me about the election and I just tell him I'm not going to vote. I could give two ****s who gets elected because as long as I go to work, come home, and do the same **** tomorrow, I'll be right as rain. Weekends are a bit different though. Sometimes I'll get up and eat breakfast, then go out to a store and scavenge some more makeup I don't need and wait until Monday to try it out while I get ready for work.

 

Dad asked me when I was going to quit smoking now that my mom has a chronic cough and I just told him as coolly as I could, "I've got nothing to live for dad." I don't tell him these things to hurt his feelings, but I think that did because just like my therapist, nobody can change that. Well, maybe I could but, if traveling around to sit around by myself is considered awesome, then...I'll pass.

 

I don't write much because there isn't much to say about my life anymore. The days blur together. I do stupid things, say stupid things, think about stupid things. Why does anyone want to read this? It's a depressing blob of never-going-to-get-better.

 

I'm thankful to be working now because if I weren't, I know I wouldn't be alive. Sometimes I look back regretfully wondering why I let this go on for long. I didn't ever consider I'd be here, now, all those years ago laughing about the things I wanted with my friends when we were just starting out. I guess I should have just taken life more seriously. But I didn't.

 

Today I went in to my usual stop over lunch and the cashier asked me what I did over the weekend. "Not much." She said, "You're young. You should be out doing something!" And I just looked down and told her, "I feel like I'm 80 years old."

 

My parents are out of town for a couple of days, and so I stopped after work for some fast food and bought my dog chicken nuggets. We ate together and then I went to see The Girl on the Train. It was okay, but the whole time I just wanted to scream in the theater. I don't know why. I keep having thoughts of chopping off my long hair with a pair of scissors. Or throwing my phone and watching it shatter. Sometimes I get parked in on the street and I just want to ram the cars around me, just putting the car in drive and reverse and drive and reverse, demolishing everything. I wish I could. Maybe I could get my point across then, but everyone would stare at me in horror and I'd say in a calm voice, "Fix that."

 

Signing off until I get **** on again.

 

LITW

[Hoosfoos]

Keep well. I'm tired too.

[LostInTheWild]

I have...Scratch that. I've been...meh, I don't know how to start this. Delete. Deleting. Deleted.

 

This is not an update.

 

This is the beginning. I think. A new chapter. I'm starting over.

 

Chapter One

 

The ease and comfort when forming a relationship has never been simple for me. It's always difficult to figure out where I stand. It's always difficult to let anyone in. Nothing ever makes sense.

 

I've tried over and over again to meet someone. To meet someone with those elusive qualities I seek. I meet a few people, go on some dates, and then my mind takes over, churning, whirling, and filtering. I can find something wrong with every date I've been on because in my mind, I pick them apart until there's no reason for me to stay. I've figured it out. I'm not picky; I'm damaged. I can't justify giving up my freedom for anyone and so I'll sabotage relationships and try to break ties by being an unruly adult.

 

Then a couple of weeks ago, I met him. I sat down in front of him and instantly felt happy. I instantly...knew that he was worth my time. I knew this because I didn't have to pry, look under rocks for information, research, dig, etc. I trusted him immediately. It's inexplainable.

 

I've written this before, but I take it back. This guy is just like me. Similar in so many ways. It's just easy and it feels right. And then my brain searches for a reason not to like him, trying to catch him in a lie, trying to find a reason he's not good enough or figure out why it won't work so I can bolt.

 

I can't ****ing find one. Not one reason. And so I hang around him when I can, just to see...just maybe...but I don't see it as a maybe. I really feel like this will be it if the stars align. But my mind still needs to adjust.

 

It has been over five years since I woke up and had a man cook me breakfast and do it happily while listening to his favorite music. It's been seven years since a man said, "I told my mom I'm dating you." It's been three years since I've contemplated having someone meet my mom and dad. I can't count how many years it took to feel this way and have it mean something. And as I showered and prepared for my one-hour drive home, doing my makeup in the mirror, I actually smiled a little.

[LostInTheWild]

I'm thinking...and trying to get this out. I want things to be clear here as they're not so clear in my mind.

 

This is...chapter two. Yep, chapter two. And I'm fighting myself hard. I'm fighting everything in me that's telling me to run because everyone says I'm the problem. Everyone tells me to look at myself. I need to give chances. I need to be open. I'm too guarded. I'm this and I'm that.

 

I feel like a horrible person. I hate myself for breaking into someone's life, toying with him, then not being sure about things. I thought I'd feel sure. I feel safe but I thought I'd know. And I don't. He's truly awesome to me. He likes me. And he's invited me to meet his mom. And I want to. But I want to because I don't want to disappoint. I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to hold myself back. I don't want to spend my life alone.

 

I just thought this would make me happy. The problem is he doesn't make me want to tear my clothes off. I don't feel passion welling up inside of me and boiling over. I don't pace the floor when I'm not with him, wishing I was. I wish I didn't feel as though I'm settling, but I do. And I'm not sure about what I want. I just know I want something and I'll know it when I find it.

 

I'm not sure if I should attribute this to the hard years I've had. I'll probably never bounce back from that, sadly. I'll probably always be a little gun shy. I'll probably sit in my car night after night for hours, not wanting to go inside, not wanting to leave the peaceful calm driving gives me. I'm different. I'll never be the person who started this thread. Ever. But I know I don't want to end this thread being the person I've become. It's a weird feeling.

 

And so, I try. I try to be someone I'm not. Once again. And to my horror, he admitted I seem emotionally unavailable. To my absolute horror. I've become the monster I've written about. I can barely talk to my parents. I can't have conversations with myself anymore to figure out my feelings. She's not there.

 

So, I'm going to do this. Just to see. I want a spark to ignite somewhere. I want to be a human again. I just don't know what else to do except to try.

[Snuggle Tiger]

I know I'm replying to a message and a thread that is over a year old, but just wow. I'm on page 31 and have been binge reading this. I have literally laughed out loud and shed tears over your story. You are such a gifted writer that I see the holes you are leaving, the things you AREN'T telling us.

 

I was scared that you at some point were going to just disappear, like a book without an end, or far far worse had harmed yourself, so I did check your name enough to see you are still posting. Let me tell you, I was incredibly relieved!

 

I'm not going to offer any specific advice, anything I say now would be trying to help something that happened over a year ago.

 

Know you are loved, that you have touched people in real life and here on LoveShack. There is a whole stadium full of people who are wishing the best for you and are rooting for you to succeed in your professional, personal and love lives.

[LostInTheWild]

I know I'm replying to a message and a thread that is over a year old, but just wow. I'm on page 31 and have been binge reading this. I have literally laughed out loud and shed tears over your story. You are such a gifted writer that I see the holes you are leaving, the things you AREN'T telling us.

 

I was scared that you at some point were going to just disappear, like a book without an end, or far far worse had harmed yourself, so I did check your name enough to see you are still posting. Let me tell you, I was incredibly relieved!

 

I'm not going to offer any specific advice, anything I say now would be trying to help something that happened over a year ago.

 

Know you are loved, that you have touched people in real life and here on LoveShack. There is a whole stadium full of people who are wishing the best for you and are rooting for you to succeed in your professional, personal and love lives.

 

Thank you so much. I really appreciate this.

[LostInTheWild]

I thought this would be a longer saga than it turned out to be, which is why I started the chapters. I waited, too, just to see. I'm in complete agreement with myself that this "situationship" should end, and so it has. I'm in the process of doing the fade, a maneuver I've never been good at using, BUT this time I think I'm doing it right.

 

I don't like to be cruel or to hurt people, but I'm really tired of sticking around because I feel bad and put someone's feelings above my own. I'm just not attracted to him. At first I was, but he started doing things and saying things that made me go, "Hmmm..." It was just too much. Forcing myself to kiss him, etc. is just not the relationship I want. He's nice and he will be able to find someone who thinks he's the bee's knees. He hasn't seemed to notice my pulling away, but I've been masking it with my job which has recently become extremely demanding.

 

I feel best when I'm at work during the day. Trying to balance a relationship with my job, like texting during work hours...I don't have time for it now and it's like having a part time job! What in the hell was I thinking, venturing back out into the dating world??? I started to slowly miss my freedom, forgot to respond to texts, and now, here we are.

 

Guys, I'm just...what do I call this? Emotionally unavailable? Yeah, I think so. I don't need a ball and chain...I just dodged that last year, remember? Ugh...I don't know, he made me feel suffocated at some points. It's not because OF him, it's because of the commitments I had to make doing long distance. And towards the end he got lazy and it was only a friggin' month in! *I* do not expect to drive for an hour and a half to sit on someone's couch to drink. Nope. We are either going out or doing something better than that.

 

I feel like you're emotionally unavailable until you're not. No amount of therapy, no amount of hail Mary's, no amount of alcohol is going to change that. Nothing. Until it happens. Maybe I'm the poster child of screwed up adults who binged Disney, but I feel like THIS is why. Hear me out. The man/woman who is all googly-eyed for you isn't IT. You know it, but you guilt trip yourself/love the affection/sex/what-have-you until you get sick of pretending. You wonder why you can't love them the way they love you. You wonder how ****ed up you really are and try everything to fix yourself. Then, two days later you meet him/her who instantly makes the struggle seem to be completely irrelevant to the cause. Because in that moment when the new person makes your heart sing again, all the walls come down. Is it healthy? Meh...I'm just living. I don't have answers. I just think that this explanation works for me.

 

I'm not sad. I don't feel anxious...I just feel...indifferent to it. I don't feel like trying anymore because I won't have to try when I fall in love. I know that because I've done it before. For now, I'll be dedicating myself to my work. In the end, that's the only sustenance I need. I don't need a guy. I don't need a kid. I just need myself.

 

If that time ever comes where I date someone again, this guy will show up out of nowhere, completely unexpected, and it will just work. I'm not going to TRY. I'm not playing these stupid dating games anymore. I will meet him organically, and if I don't meet someone, I'll be on LS toasting to the shriveling of my ovaries, embracing wrinkles, hair loss, cancer, alcoholism, and starting a cat collection.

 

Welcome to my house!

 

If I don't post before...HAPPY HOLIDAYS, LS! I'll try to post something before then though.

[LostInTheWild]

Today I decided to sit by the river. I wanted to watch the sun rise and the sun set. Throughout the day, I listened to the wild hum around me. Life is everywhere, busy living, and yet there I sat, stationary, wondering if there would be anything that moved me soon. Something that really stirred my mind and heart or caused me to think critically about the trajectory of my life; enough to make me change something. Or was I destined to be a blank slate, staring off into the distance; catatonic, just breathing? The need for something is there, but I simply can't identify it.

 

I thought I needed to feel as though I wasn't the only one on the planet. I needed to feel someone touch me. I needed someone to touch. Just to know that I'm still alive, even if it is just barely. But I discovered I have nothing to give except my body and a few smart remarks here and there. I could never truly beguile another while living a two-dimensional lifestyle. But...those are the thoughts I had while I sat out there, watching the sun twinkle off the water. The trees are dead and it's freezing. I wear my red dress now, but it's beginning to turn black at the ends. I curl up in the length of it and gaze at the water in determination. I'm determined to try to figure out what I did that was so bad to deserve this. But, being out here, being cold and alone is the only comfort I know now. Warmth scares me.

 

There is no moon tonight, and so the sky thickens and darkens. First, it turns orange, then pink, then purple, and then black. But the stars shine so brightly out here. If I wish on one now, I think it might just come true. I have no time for that though, so I get up and try to find my place under the large tree I found a few years ago. It's comfortable and safe there. The only problem is, I haven't quite acclimated myself to a long stay here. I always feel like it's temporary because everything is and just when I think something won't last much longer, it usually does. When something usually lasts, it's usually the negative aspects of life I want to forget. But, this tree...I hated it at first, then I found a hole in its side that kept me warm during the cold nights. It keeps me dry in the rain. It keeps me cool in the summer when the leaves grow larger than my head.

 

The blades of tall, dead grass graze my hand as I inch along the path, trying to make it back to the tree, guided by the light of the stars, which is so faint I can't see anything really. My cold, bare feet drag along the muddy earth beneath me. I gracefully carry myself through until I can't feel the earth there anymore; I can't feel anything.

 

For a split-second, I hover there, not truly realizing what was happening. I was falling. Into a hole. In the middle of the night. In the freezing cold. With no one around to help me.

 

Before I knew it, I was enveloped with the darkness of the hole, screaming and crying. My heart fluttered in my chest. I wasn't sure when I would hit the rocky bottom, or be able to break my fall but I noticed that the deeper I went, the more I could see the glowing red color of my dress and the luminosity of my skin.

 

The terror kept washing over me in waves as I fell, looking up to see the opening of the star-filled hole and the waves of my red dress flowing up into the night sky. I kept falling and falling, expecting to hit something, but no. I just fell. Until I passed out.

 

When I came to, I was lying in a bed I hadn't slept in for years. An air mattress. In a basement. With an old television and a computer desk filling the wood-paneled room. My red dress poured over the blue comforter I used to sleep on. And then I heard a man call my name. I quietly crept out of the bed and opened the bedroom door to find a familiar hallway. Strangely, I remembered my way through the house.

 

As I climbed the stairs that led to the living room, I caught a glimpse of my ex from so long ago, when I was a teenager. He was beaming at me. I looked to my right and there was his mother, also smiling, holding a small box. The box, I knew, contained the piece of jewelry I was to never throw away. And I never did. He quickly got the box from his mother and kissed me on the forehead as he gave it to me. It was the style of necklace I wanted, and it was real. It was Christmas Day, 2006.

 

I was more appreciative this time around, shedding tears, and when he went to hug me, I whispered into his ear, "I'm so sorry for how things will end between us. But thank you for treating me the way I needed to be in order for me to understand healthy relationships. You're dating the younger version of myself now, and forgive her; she doesn't know."

 

He doesn't seem to hear that, and places the necklace around my neck.

 

I black out. When I wake up, I'm falling again, with waves of fear once again washing over my body. Over and over again. And like when I ride a roller coaster, I can't help but scream, even if I know what happens next. The darkness is so foggy and thick, but my skin and dress glow. I reach for my neck only to feel the pendant. And I pass out again.

 

I awake to smell a familiar smell. The smell of my parents' old house. I lay in my bed with my red dress on. I see my zebra-patterned sheets. I look over into my closet and see the notebook filled with letters from him. The man I loved at the time. The man who led me to where I am today. Next to me, I saw his chest lift and fall with each breath he took.

 

It was Christmas 2010 and he was sleeping next to me. I didn't want to stir and wake him. I laid there in a panic. I thought about how I could change the present so that I wouldn't be LITW anymore in the present. I thought about how I could end things there, fall through the time warp, and find myself in a different life feeling differently about everything.

 

"Wake up," I ordered. His big, light brown eyes popped open. That was the time when I knew he loved me, and his eyes reflected that. "I don't think we should do this anymore. We have to end things now. It's not you; it's just, I know how this ends. I don't want you to hurt me again."

 

It was like the last time. He couldn't hear what I was saying. He pulled me into him and held me. I cried because I felt that love I missed so much. The love that sustained me during our relationship. The love I so desperately wanted in my current life, what I wandered the wild for, and even though I try, still cannot find. The love we both enjoyed. Never one-sided at the time. I looked up at him and he smiled his smile that used to melt my world with the most perfect teeth. And I just buried my face into his chest.

 

My red dress seemed to have grown, swelling, swallowing us up, growing limbs and tearing me away from him in that moment. It wrapped itself around my neck and choked me until I passed out again.

 

Into the blackness, I fell again. Thick, soupy darkness soaked my surroundings.

 

I lost my breath and fell faint again.

 

I woke up, lying on cream-colored sheets. Even though I felt nothing, tears were rolling out of my eyes, across my temples, and into my hair. There was a sharp pain in my chest. My body ached. I glanced around to see empty beer bottles surrounding my bedside.

 

My red dress almost filled the room this time, but I recognized it almost immediately. This was my old house. My old bed. My gray carpet. It was dark in the room, quietly lit by the light in the hallway that I'd forgotten to turn out so many times when I passed out drunk.

 

The pain was so thick and muggy. I got up and dragged the dress out into the hallway where I stood at the edge of the stairs. I remembered this time. This was the Christmas Day, 2014. The loss of the European plagued me, even though I had other things going on at the time. I was drinking a lot, exercising more, and ever-lost. I checked my phone and saw some texts from Panda. I texted him back, "I'm sorry, I'm not interested in pursuing this any further. It was fun but I need to figure myself out now. I can't use you as a crutch to get over someone else." In the early, groggy morning hours, I don't expect to hear much from him. I set the phone down.

 

I hate reliving the loss of love, unrequited love. I haul myself up the hallway to see my porch one last time. I step outside to feel the cold air and see my blanket I used so many times while I smoked out there. I fell asleep in my chair on that porch. It felt like the most peaceful sleep until I felt everything fall away again, being jarred into wakefulness, only to find darkness.

 

The hole lasted longer this time. I fell for what seemed like ages, still screaming, still afraid, still wondering what this was all for.

 

The things I'd do differently, if only they could hear me, if only they could listen, if only I could rewrite history and change the past. If I could have made better choices, better decisions, I would not be here today falling through a dark tunnel, looking at my life over Christmases I can barely remember.

 

I woke up again, but as I blinked rapidly, letting my eyes adjust to the blinding lights, the air didn't smell like anything I've smelled before. I wasn't inside; I was outside. The sky was blue with little white clouds populating it in random places. The sun beamed on me and warmed me. I felt my face smile and it was not something I was in control of, rather, it was almost like the other pasts...something I'd done before but couldn't control. I sat up to see my hair, as black as the tunnel I fell through, was longer than ever. My dress was longer than it had been too, but this time, it was white.

 

I felt the sand brush my fingertips. It was as white as my dress. The waves crashed as they ebbed and flowed. I was on a beach. Somewhere. I heard little children laughing and a man yelling after them in the distance. As my eyes searched to find them, I saw, written in the sand: "We love you." That was the most peace I'd felt in years, but fate would not have it this way; I closed my eyes for just a moment and I was back in the hole, falling into the darkness, screaming, trying to figure out how to get out of the several levels of hell I'd been through. Trying to find the beach, the salty air, and to hear my family playing nearby while I got some rays in a white dress.

 

For now, the wild is gone. That much is clear. It's been replaced with the terror of never knowing what will happen because so much has plagued me from the past, and the darkness.

Edited December 23, 2016 by LostInTheWild

[LostInTheWild]

I drove down the winding road that hugged the beach. A misty, gray day, but still absolutely beautiful. The problem: I was lost. I pulled over and parked my car to get my bearings. I looked up to see a familiar figure standing in a rocky area, but I wasn't sure.

 

I got out and inspected her figure, wondering how this was even possible.

 

I got closer and closer to her. She had on knee-high boots, ripped jeans, with a leather jacket over a billowy, striped top. Her hair was long, dark, and straight, but blew fiercely in the wind.

 

I was close enough that she would hear me when I spoke. I softly whispered my name. Her head turned and I nearly collapsed. She looked healthy and happy, opposite of who I am, but exactly like the person I imagine myself to be. Me, but...better. Healed, almost. Not beat down by life.

 

"Where are we?" I asked her.

 

"We are in Seattle," she smiled.

 

My favorite thing to do these days, since the new year has begun, is to save money and look for jobs that allow me the freedom to move around. I felt this way when I was unemployed, and now that I am employed, I feel strongly that it is now or never.

By November, I should have enough saved that will provide me a reasonable cushion, but if I find a position before November, I am leaving sooner. If I don't find a job by then, well...I guess I'll keep saving and hold off until 2018. I can't leave without a job, but I have 10 months to find one. If anyone (I mean, anyone who follows this thread anymore) knows of a good place to look, I'm open to suggestions.

 

So much has happened here. I feel as though I'll never recover my old self again. The only way to force change, in my mind, is to put myself out there. Completely eject myself out of any type of comfort zone I currently hover around. Do this without knowing one soul. Rebuild my life elsewhere.

 

I sure as hell don't want to rebuild anything here. I thought about getting a cheap, dumpy apartment here a while ago. Just to have my own space. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I just want to cut ties with this place and run.

 

If I'm going to move, it's going to be a big change. Not 2 hours away. More like 40 hours away (driving). Not east coast, but west coast. I need a time difference. I want to feel younger as I pass through time zones and get to relive three hours of my life in the same day (joking).

 

I feel as though I won't ever get ahead here. I won't ever date anyone here. I won't even meet anyone here. I need to relearn a few things about myself. I need to fumble a few more times, but to do it alone in a big, scary place. I want to ingrain new beliefs and habits into my life rather than being an uptight east-coaster.

 

In my 30's, I don't want to sit around waiting for the divorcees to become available. I don't want to wait for people to decide they want to spend time with me. I want to meet a solid group of friends my age who didn't settle down. It just never happened for them, the way it never happened for me. There's a different lifestyle out there. More than this.

 

Everyday I feel as though I'm coasting through life, not living it, just waiting to die.

 

As the movie Shawshank Redemption would put it:

 

"Get busy livin' or get busy dyin'."

 

It's time for me to throw my roots down somewhere else, reinvent myself, change and transform.

[LostInTheWild]

Ah, yes, the commercial holiday is around the corner. Hallmark is in the air...

 

I love how people who are married will throw me the passive aggressive, "Valentine's Day is a commercial holiday. It really serves no purpose." Ha...hell, I've been telling myself that, too, for a while. But every year, if I leave the house, I see something all couple-y that makes me try to remember what it was like and now it's so foreign to me to have anyone care about me.

 

I took my dad to buy him some fish for his fish tank. I told him I'd show him where I worked. He said, "Oh great. You know, I know nothing about you. You're just so secretive." Well, two things, one is that I no longer see the point in maintaining relationships. I don't text people. I'm pleasant if they reach out but I don't go out of my way very often. I'm too tired. Learned a lot of lessons. Second, my parents judge everything I say and so I've removed the privilege of them even knowing the name of the company I work for. I'm not proud of it but the chips fell where they landed.

 

I don't really know how I can get more dysfunctional than that. I don't really know how I'd treat a partner anymore. I'd probably be the same way. I've been this way for a long time, I think, but now with my age and life experience, I have to say it's not going to get better.

 

The other day, my boss made me cry at work. He came in yelling (it wasn't my fault), guns a blazin', and I just couldn't stand it anymore. I usually hide it, cry later, talk to a coworker about it. I keep my office door closed most days now. I laugh when required. Nod in agreement. Not much to say. Only speak when I have something important to say. Do the best I can while I'm there and leave when I'm supposed to.

 

I've taken on some projects for self-love. Quit smoking. No drinking. Eat better. Work out. Look in the mirror for that mischievous soul I miss so much. She's there. I keep waiting for the spark in her eyes to come back. For her interest to be piqued again. For her to think an interesting thought. For her to have something interesting to talk about. Doesn't happen.

 

I've made peace with all this too. I've made peace with a lot of things about myself that I just cannot change.

 

I really miss talking to my cousin about the things in my life that bother me, my hopes and dreams like I used to, and since we've been on good terms once again, it's just the wrong time in my life. I know that when I sit next to her and we share laughs and talk about her life or other things, I'm holding her at arm's length. I know that part of her is so terribly sorry for what she did, for cutting me out of her life for my ex. I remember one night, when we met up to grab a bite to eat, the look on her face...there is going to be eternal guilt there. When I hold her son, I know the thought crosses her mind. It's always there even if she never says it. I know she wonders how she can make it up to me. I want to tell her she doesn't have to. I've told her I forgive her, but I can't change how she feels. I know she remembers me texting asking about her son, and how she just sent me a postcard of him in the mail instead of letting me meet him. The years of pain are etched on my face and she can see how I've suffered and she knows I'll never be who she remembered. Because I know that I will never be.

 

That's why I have to leave. In the back of my mind, I'm plotting and planning. I want to be the best version of myself when I plant my feet somewhere far away. I say, in my mind, "Yes, boss, please keep yelling at me so I don't feel guilty for quitting." I look to my parents and think, "I will keep you far from myself so you won't miss me when I leave because you don't even know who I am." When I hang out with my cousin, I think, "Feel the guilt now, because one day we will be crying on the phone, planning our reunion, love. We need the space the mend the cracks." When I picture living in a different area, I think, "I need to get out of this place so I can be a different version of who I am now. I can reinvent myself."

 

One month down from my decision to move. Another commercial holiday is coming and going. And here I sit in my parents' dwelling, not really knowing what the future holds.

 

All I know is, this is a really lonely existence. Is human contact important? It's been months since I've been hugged. I can live perfectly in this bubble throughout my days, not so much as even bumping into another person. The funny thing is, the only time I miss human contact is at night when I look over at the other side of the bed which is untouched and think of a parallel universe where I was smarter and made better choices, where I was a better person and cared more, and things came together the way I intended them to.

 

I can either choose to stand by and idly watch my life go by never having the things in life I once craved, or I can move and hope for the best. Right now I just feel the ever-present sting of being a passenger, biding time until my days are done. Pay my taxes and hope I don't get fired again.

 

For now, I'm just glad I didn't have to shovel my own car out of the snow this winter, because it hardly snowed.

[LostInTheWild]

Pose. Smile. Laugh. Drink. Dance. Fu*k.

 

Date. Another date. Canceled date. Fu*k you. Goodbye.

 

Curiosity. Hope. Talking. Laughing. Date. Sex. Canceled date. Fu*k you. Goodbye.

 

Spring is here. The grass slowly turns green. The birds chirp again. Flowers begin to bloom.

 

Somehow time continues to move forward but for her, she stands eternal, in one place. Next to the dead tree in the field. Looking at it, wishing it would bloom for her. Year after year, she checks on the tree and yet it remains the same. Barren and lifeless. Used up and forgotten.

 

The tree was alive once. Many years ago it boasted large leaves and colorful blooms. It stood tall and proud in the field, providing shelter in the rain, and protection from the sun. That changed the day she touched the tree.

 

Almost immediately, the blooms and leaves fell to the ground all around her. Blinking in disbelief, she stepped back. The tree started to turn from brown to black. She didn't know then, but a curse was passed to her that day. The curse called everything I touch turns to sh*t.

 

Many cold nights, lonely days, and false starts were promised to her. This is what her life is. This is the life. Sitting on the sidelines, waiting, while life eclipses her. She has finally begun to understand this. Four years later, she finally begins to embrace the curse.

 

Standing next to the dead tree that will never live again, she finally gives up. She slowly turns away and paces through the field. She is careful to never touch anything living again. That is the only way to live without letting the curse take over.

Edited April 1, 2017 by LostInTheWild

[Hoosfoos]

It seems that what you've written is a metaphor for the dating lives of many people, including myself.

 

It appears that you have no trouble attracting guys, from what you've written. Do you think it's possible (and I am not trying to criticize you) that you sleep with them too early which may lead to things failing? I've had 2 one-night stands in my life, from which I wanted more, that ended poorly.

 

Or could it just be that you haven't met the right person yet? Is that another possibility?

[LostInTheWild]

It seems that what you've written is a metaphor for the dating lives of many people, including myself.

 

It appears that you have no trouble attracting guys, from what you've written. Do you think it's possible (and I am not trying to criticize you) that you sleep with them too early which may lead to things failing? I've had 2 one-night stands in my life, from which I wanted more, that ended poorly.

 

Or could it just be that you haven't met the right person yet? Is that another possibility?

 

Yeah it was metaphorical, but also appears to be true. I'm just speaking from experience here, though.

 

So, I guess I should explain why I wrote this. I did do a one night stand (totally unplanned and moderately not wanted but I was out with a friend). I don't like the guy and want nothing with him as he's too young (23). That doesn't bother me.

 

I met someone else slightly older that night and went on a couple of dates with him. He started stringing me along so I dumped him. I don't care about that. And no, we didn't sleep together.

 

I dipped my toes into online dating again just to see. And it worked. I met someone. The only problem is he is French and he's not going to be staying here for a long period of time, although his job may choose to keep him here. He will be here for four months. So I decided to just see.

 

I had a great time with him. And we did sleep together.

 

We were supposed to go out again but he had to go in to work. I just don't know if I'm going to see him again and it bothers me because I really like him. He's a nice person. It was a blow to hear that he couldn't do anything else this weekend and I'm not really sure he likes me. He hasn't said much. We did plan next weekend to go shopping together but it may not happen. It is what it is.

 

I don't think sleeping with people early is any different than waiting for sex. It only serves as an extra measure of protection against pain. If a man is going to leave me I believe he will whether I sleep with him first or later or not at all.

 

I think it's about the connection. If it's there, it's there. I probably haven't met the right person for me. I can't be upset about that I guess. But I am upset that for some reason I can't keep people in my life.

[Hoosfoos]

 

I think it's about the connection. If it's there, it's there. I probably haven't met the right person for me. I can't be upset about that I guess. But I am upset that for some reason I can't keep people in my life.

 

The hardest thing for me to wrap my head around is that every relationship is temporary. Either by them or you leaving, or by death. Like you, I would like to have someone in my life that I could "keep". But ultimately what does "keeping" mean? Is it that happily ever after nonsense that the media touts all the time? I've learned the hard way that life doesn't really work that way. That just motivates me to try to strive to be as happy as I can to be on my own, which in itself is a challenge.

 

I read somewhere that it is difficult to find happiness in yourself, and impossible to find it in others. But the human race needs a certain level of dependency to sustain itself, so I don't really know how the whole thing works.

[LostInTheWild]

The hardest thing for me to wrap my head around is that every relationship is temporary. Either by them or you leaving, or by death. Like you, I would like to have someone in my life that I could "keep". But ultimately what does "keeping" mean? Is it that happily ever after nonsense that the media touts all the time? I've learned the hard way that life doesn't really work that way. That just motivates me to try to strive to be as happy as I can to be on my own, which in itself is a challenge.

 

I read somewhere that it is difficult to find happiness in yourself, and impossible to find it in others. But the human race needs a certain level of dependency to sustain itself, so I don't really know how the whole thing works.

 

Hoosfoos, I've been with a lot of men at this point. It would be a blessing to have one of them give a damn about me (one that I gave a damn about myself, of course). Feeling like someone cares, to share the load of life with, however temporarily it may be, would be incredible. Even if it is only for one night. Just one. I'll take that if I can't keep anyone long term. That is what life has become.

 

Keeping someone doesn't mean permanently, to me, but it means long term. Enough time to fall in love, maybe try new things, maybe have a kid or two. I don't see that in my future and so my lifestyle is this. If I can't have that, then I'm going to party like my life depends on it. It's the only thing that keeps me sane. And somewhat happy and excited to see the sun rise tomorrow. Looking forward to laughing. Looking forward to what may come.

 

I don't plan on having one night stands, but, if that's what's in the cards for me, so be it. You can't make anyone want to stay or make them fall in love.

 

I will say though, I hope one day someone looks at me and thinks they've met an incredible person who they can't help but be in love with. I think that would be fun.