After a While

It's been awhile. Sorry. Life's got me busy as all hell and there are days when I feel like I'm getting absolutely nothing done despite of how busy I am. It's like a never ending circle of work, but the end is finally drawing near. Unfortunately, the end also brings on even more work and I have yet to figure out how I'm going to get it all done.

I just stumbled on this poem, and, while I don't have much time to fill you in on my life, I thought I'd post it here.

After a While

After a while you learn 
The subtle difference between 
Holding a hand and chaining a soul 
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning 
And company doesn't always mean security. 

And you begin to learn
That kisses aren't contracts 
And presents aren't promises 
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes ahead 
With the grace of a woman 
Not the grief of a child

And you learn 
To build all your roads on today 
Because tomorrow's ground is
Too uncertain for plans 
And futures have a way
Of falling down in mid flight

After a while you learn 
That even sunshine burns if you get too much 
So you plant your own garden 
And decorate your own soul
Instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers

And you learn 
That you really can endure
That you are really strong 
And you really do have worth
And you learn and you learn 
With every good bye you learn.

-- Jorge Luis Borges (Translated by: Veronica A. Shoffstall)

Losing myself.

I am sitting, but I feel like the world is falling around me. I can feel everything changing and I'm scared. The few things I have left that keep me tied to home are slipping away and nothing pulls me anywhere else. I'm losing home. Soon I won't have a place where I belong and I don't know what to do. I'm floating or falling, depending on how you care to view it. Unfortunately, I've never been good with change.

I am sitting here feeling more alone than I have in a long time, unable to cry for help. Muted by my fear of letting anyone in.

At least I have my dog. She loves me even as the rest of the world turns away. She loves me when no one else ever has.

And still it's not enough.

A good day.

Today was a good day. The weather was gorgeous, and, for the first time in a while, I felt good. I wasn't exhausted or upset or stressed or any of the things I had been all this weekend. I just got to relax for the first time in a long time and I needed it more than anything. I spent all day with friends and played with guinea pigs in the oak grove. I laughed to the point of almost crying and spent 10 minutes silently laughing while trying not to laugh in the middle of a church service. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was a part of a big group of friends and I didn't once worry they didn't actually want to be around me.

Today was a good day. A good day with good weather, spent with good friends, having a good time. I felt good. It was good. I was good. I needed that.

Untitled.

I'd go to the end of the world for you, but I don't think you'd even notice when I got there. Why would I expect you to when you have so much more to choose from? You'd think I'd be used to being second best by now. To being overlooked. Forgotten. You'd think my heart would stop breaking each time I'm reminded of it. I'm a fool for thinking things would ever be different. I'm a fool for thinking that, for once, someone could possibly love me.

Who could love a hideous, ugly beast?

Be still, my beating heart.

Be still, my beating heart.
I know he draws near.
I know you long for things that cannot be.
Don't give yourself away.

Be still, my beating heart.
I know his eyes are warm.
I know you long for them to see you.
Don't give yourself away.

I know his lips look soft.
I know his smile's inviting.
I know you long to feel his lips.
To feel them pressed upon your own.
Don't give yourself away.

Be still, my beating heart.
I know you feel his beating, too.
I know you long it beats for you.
Don't give yourself away.

Be still, my beating heart.
For this will never be.
He loves another, just let him go.
Don't give yourself away.

Love.

Love.
Funny word, love.
So small, and yet it can mean so much.
Or so little.
It's an overused word that, in the end, never seems to lose it's meaning.
A word that, when said by the right person at the right time, can change everything.

Love.
I wish I knew love.
The way the stories tell and the songs sing.
And the poems rhyme.
A love that can't even be measured in words and, in the end, never loses it's meaning.
A love that, when from the right person, can change everything.

Love.
I want that.
But will it ever want me?

Head vs. Heart

I sit here in a failed attempt to get work done, instead, drowning in whirlwind of thoughts flying through my head. I can't get them out of my head. I can't get him out of my head. I told myself time and time again that I was being stupid and I would only end up hurting myself, but my heart didn't listen. It refused to listen, thinking it would never amount to much. It was harmless, liking him. I didn't like him that much. But, somehow, without noticing, it became to much, and my foolish, foolish heart is hurt again, through no fault but it's own. I knew it would happen, but I couldn't help myself. And now I sit here trying not to let it get to me. Trying to focus on something else that needs to get done, but I can't. And I don't know how to let it go. I don't know how to get over it. I need to move on, but I don't know where to move to.

Is it time for break, yet?

It's That Time of the Month...

The painters are in. On the rag. A visit from Aunt Flo. Period.

Yup. That is, in fact, what I'm talking about. Now that I've laid it all out there and scared away any guy who gets squeamish at the thought of the word, let me tell you why I'm talking about this.

Periods suck. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar. Some suck less than others, but there is nothing fun about bleeding out of your vagina once a month. Not only that, but factor in the cramps, bloat, body aches, the varying levels of hormonal fluctuation, and, in my case, the effect it has on my bowels, and it's easy to see why no body likes them.

This time around, though, has been a rollercoaster of emotional hell I never knew existed. It wasn't until this evening that I understood exactly what was going on. I chalked it up to stress and too much school work. It wasn't until my friend, Alyssa, pointed out how crazed I was when I snapped at her earlier that it all made sense. Now, I am no stranger to this time of the month. After 10 years of it, you understand it well enough. This time, however, was different.

After the vomit-inducing pain fiasco that was the discovery of my ovarian cysts, a trip to the lady doctor had me put on birth control in order to reduce their size and stop the bi-monthly, post-period writhing and suffering. Let me tell you, birth control is fucking magical. Not only did it shrink those mother fuckers, but it also made my period almost bearable. (My periods had never been too bad in the first place, but, on the pill, there was barely any hint of cramps, my period was so light, only lasted a few days, and I always knew when it was going to start. So fuck those mother fuckers trying to make it difficult to get birth control. Let them have a period every month and then we'll see what they have to say.)

Recently, though, due to timing and refill confusion, I stopped taking it for about two months. Once I finally got everything straightened out, I started taking it again. However, against my better judgement, I didn't feel like waiting until after I had my next period. Bad life decision there. When everything is on track, birth control works like this: Three weeks of hormone pills followed by a week of placebo iron pills, which is when your period is supposed to happen. That is not what is going on right now. Instead, my period is happening right smack dab in the middle of my hormone pills. Now my hormones are all out of whack and I'm acting like Crazypants McBitchface, freaking out over every little thing and snapping at people without even realizing it, something that normally doesn't happen for me. I might be a titch more irritable normally, but nothing like this. Even now, while sitting here, I can just feel how weird my body feels. It's not normal at all.

So, if you run into me in the next couple of days, I'm so sorry for what emotional hot mess comes out of my mouth. I'm not usually like this. Hopefully, my body will straighten itself out next month and everything will be back to normal.

Lost, Not Found

What do you do when everything you know changes without any clue as to when or why? I feel like the rug has been pulled out from under me and I don't know which way is up. Friends I once thought I knew have become hard to recognize, and I don't even think I know who I am anymore. Things that I was sure of have now become unstable and I don't have much else to cling onto. I don't have an anchor, and I fear I will soon be swallowed up without anyone noticing.

I'm Danielle, the girl who forgot how to trust. Danielle, the girl who forgot how to love.

I'm lost, but I don't remember how to be found.

I suck at social situations.

As life continues on, I have become exceedingly more aware of my inability to tell how a person feels about me. While I have friends, some of which whom I truly do believe actually like me and like being around me, I am constantly assuming everyone finds me annoying to be around. What sucks about it, though, is that I can pinpoint exactly why I am this way, and I don't know of any way to fix it because it all happened when I was little and some how left deep emotional scars I'm not even aware of or some psychological bullshit like that. Basically, childhood fucks you over for the rest of your goddamn life.

Anyways, this really all boils down to the fact that I like this guy, and since my entire childhood -- actually pretty much my entire life -- consists of no guy I like ever liking me back, that means he probably doesn't like me. Which I could deal with if I actually knew that for a fact. But I don't. And I know I don't. So, while I will go on assuming this for my entire life, I know somewhere that that bullshit little motherfucker called Hope is busy hoping away that I'm wrong, but there's no way I'll ever know because I'll never ever come out and ask when the possibility of rejection and embarrassment is that high.

To make a long story short, I'm fucked all over the place. This is why I will live alone with dogs for the rest of my days.