What the water gave me.

When I was younger, I always believed that water had a super power. Water had the ability to wash everything away. Wash away your tears, your fears, and any indication of negativity. Every terrible emotion you had could be washed away, the second the water touched you. It was with it’s magical healing powers that everything washed away. Maybe I was completely naive but when you felt this hole in your heart, you wanted to believe it was true. That something so pure could wash away all the impurities in your life. Within seconds all the tears would disappear, into the mass of water never to be seen again.

Even years later, I still believe that.

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Water became this magic eraser for everything. It washed the slates of my mistakes clean. For an instant watching all the helpless sorrows I felt fall to the floor and into the drain. The water gave you this new beginning to start all over again. A different day, a different person. Just the complete ability to wash everything away and feel better. The reflections of your past that stared back at you in the water, didn’t matter. For a moment they were there and in an instant they were gone.

There are times I wished the water would wash away everything. The memories of the past and the moments of regret and self doubt. I wished the water would take those memories and drown them to the bottom of the ocean. Anything to take away the feelings of sorrow and regret. Because no matter how many times you scrubbed your skin, it never made you feel clean. You were always left with the reflections of your past staring back at you in the water.

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I know that I can’t change the past. For a moment I just want to make believe that the water holds all my sorrows and takes them away. All of the sadness, all the tears, and all the stupid memories, gone. Swallowed whole and through the drain to drown into the waters below.  Maybe the water can’t cure all my mistakes, but for a moment it can make me feel better.

Even just for a little while.

Let’s Go Oakland.

This post is dedicated to two very important people in my life: Hilda Tateosian & Lillian Rankins. It is with your patience, passion and twisted sense of humor that rekindled my love of baseball. Never have I met two people with such great enthusiasm for the sport of baseball then these two remarkable ladies. Thank you for reminding me the true value of friendship and for opening my eyes to the wonderful world of baseball. <3

Thank you to the Oakland Athletics for reminding me that the underdog eventually gets the win.

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“That’s baseball, and it’s my game. Y’ know, you take your worries to the game, and you leave ‘em there. You yell like crazy for your guys. It’s good for your lungs, gives you a lift, and nobody calls the cops.”-Humphrey Bogart

Passion comes to you when you least expect it. When all hope is lost and the only thing you have left is your undying devotion to something bigger than yourself. When I told people 3 years ago that I wanted to get into baseball, people thought I was batshit crazy. Actually people thought the only thing I cared about at that point was spending money, unnecessary pop culture references, and a caffeine addiction to Starbucks. Of course I was crazy. Of course I find ways to become obsessed with something to the brink of insanity, but baseball? Really?

The only thing I ever knew about baseball was the countless films about the sport. From The Sandlot to Major League and even the recent Moneyball, how could you not be romantic about baseball? The films with their witty one-liners, dramatic scores and yes even dreamboat casting, made baseball one of the best sports on film. What the films don’t tell you is watching the sport live, you needed countless consumptions of alcohol. I’ll be brutally honest, 3 years ago baseball was boring. So boring that I needed alcohol to get through a few games of the sport. I just didn’t understand it, I didn’t have the patience for the it, and I just didn’t care. Of course I always had my favorite team but I couldn’t name a player to save my life. I couldn’t even tell you the starting line up for that current day. But if you wanted to know what I wore to the game I would tell you (American apparel hoodie, vans slip-ons, Marc Jacobs sunglasses). It just wasn’t for me.

Truth of the matter is I have been genetically programmed to love Bay Area sports. Maybe it’s my Dad’s deep alliance to the Coliseum but to him no other teams compared to the Oakland Athletics and the Oakland Raiders. Of course its the nostalgic value of his countless work of improving the Coliseum, his signature practically all over the stadium but to him at one point the Coliseum was a mecca of his work.  To hear him recount his stories of the Coliseum game days are just a who’s who of the 70’s and 80’s. It was a no brainer to know that my own alliance would also be Oakland rooted. While my Dad’s stance on Bay Area sports has changed over the years, I still can’t forget how proud he was about working there. Being in that atmosphere he never matched anywhere else.

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2012 was a game changer for me. I was physically and emotionally drained from work. I was surrounding myself with terrible people. I was just being absolutely hurtful to myself. It was just this never ending cycle of destruction, I couldn’t get out of. I was unhappy with myself, my surroundings and worse of all I was unhappy with life. I just couldn’t catch a break with anything I was doing. However a chance meeting with an old friend to do a stadium tour of AT&T Park, changed everything. For the first time in my life I was doing something without the judgment of other people. I was with good people that for once didn’t make me doubt anything I was doing. More importantly I was planting the seed of falling in love with a sport I only knew about through films and my diehard fanatic friends. Maybe I was crazy but at that point in my life I had nothing to lose.

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The thing about film is while beautifully cinematic, they don’t tell you everything. Sure they paint a beautiful portrait of a sport but they don’t tell you what it’s like to set foot in a ball park. They don’t prepare you for the thousands of screaming diehard fans. They don’t prepare you for how different your day changes from the moment you walk into the park to the moment you walk out. I had been to AT&T park before. I’ve probably even slurred my way down the stairs and to the parking lot. To walk the front gates of the beautiful ball park on an off season and roam the halls where people of all walks of life have walked is truly magical. I wanted to feel the feeling all over again. The feeling of security and warmth of life that you can only get from a ball park. I wanted that feeling for myself from my own favorite team. More importantly I wanted that feeling sober.

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You realize your life is about to change when things in your life happen in three’s. A little bit after that tour I ended a 25 year friendship, my job of over 3 years let me go, and on top of that I realized that my countless years of food problems made me develop an eating disorder. I needed something to get me out of this mess. Something to distract me from the bullshit of my life. With a pact I made with a new friend and endless amounts of free time, started my love of baseball.

Of course people ask me why Oakland? What is it about Oakland that does is it for you? Of course I could tell you it’s my deep alliance to all things Oakland. That it’s this huge nostalgic value for me, because it’s where my Dad worked and loved. I’d be lying. Truth is it was more deep rooted then that. They say you when you fall in love all you can ever see is the person you’re in love with. The whole world stops around you and the only thing that exists is you and this other being. When you walk back into life after a lifetime of being clouded with self doubt and misery you miss everything that’s surrounding you. The moment I walked back into the Coliseum, I felt the Coliseum. Something I never felt after countless drunken tailgates, after countless times I dragged my feet behind me to my seat. For the first time I walked in sober and into the heartbeat of that stadium. It was in that moment that I walked through Gate D that any self doubt I felt I left in the parking lot. The moment I took those steps into the Coliseum and started to see the hustle of people, it finally made sense. In that moment of walking up to the WELCOME sign, I knew for the first time I was home.
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It wasn’t just about the Coliseum that did it for me. It was the people. The atmosphere. Of course it was the team itself. A team of mismatched broken parts that somehow defied the odds against them. They weren’t a perfect team. They didn’t have any big name players that the Yankees or Red Sox have. They didn’t even have the payroll to pay for the big named players. They didn’t have anything except a undying love of the game and the mantra of proving people wrong. It didn’t matter how many games they won, they would constantly be bashed for the countless games they’ve lost. They were their own worst critics but the unconditional love of the game and countless support of their fans always reign supreme. That’s what made me fall in love with this team. They were an absolutely mental team that cared more about playing the game by their standards as a team then anything else.

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I could relate to that. A team that felt broken and just a complete joke to people. I could full heartedly relate to that. Mainly because people have shut the door in my face countless times. Because people have treated me as the misfit on numerous occasions. Because everyone cast me aside on numerous occasions. Time after time I have gotten myself out of dark situations to prove countless people wrong. It didn’t matter. No matter how many accomplishments I have its never good enough. I am never good enough. Finally it all made sense under the dark confides of concrete and the rush of a thousand chants. None of that mattered being in the ballpark. Every game just like every day was a chance to turn your fate around. With every loss comes a win, and with every win comes a few victories. Some more triumphant than others. That’s what made me fall in love with something bigger than I could ever imagine. With every game I went to nothing matched the love I felt going into the Coliseum. For every game I went to a piece of myself slowly came back together. It was bigger than hearing my favorite song sung by my favorite band. It was bigger than seeing my favorite film. It was seeing my life finally come together and banding together with other great people.

These past seasons have been nothing but a learning experience. I can’t help but soak it all in. The people, the places, and even all the things that happen. To the countless people I have dragged with me to the games that in turn learned to love my team just as I love them. I only want to show everyone what its like to feel exactly how I felt on my return to the Coliseum. That heartbeat, that passion and even that love that you only get from people that truly understand what you’re feeling. If I could show everyone what love is, it’s going out to the ball park and rooting for your favorite team. It’s bullshitting with the people in the crowds and knowing exactly how they are feeling. It’s leaving everything your feeling out of the gates of the stadium and walking out a different person.

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Baseball brought back a passion I thought I had forgotten. It brought back so many elements of hope that I didn’t think were possible. It finally gave me something to root for. Something to put my mind back at ease and something to love again. Something I never would have thought possible if I didn’t take that chance to rekindle a friendship with an old friend. Something I never thought possible if I didn’t take a chance on making new friends. It was through this twist of fate that made realize that at the end of the day there really are good people in this world. People you would have never imagined who could have impacted your life in so many ways.

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People are always going to judge you no matter what you do. It doesn’t matter how many accomplishments you make, your past will always haunt you. As with most things in life you have to learn to roll with the punches. Realize that at the end of every day there’s a day to turn it all around. Just as a season comes to an end there’s always the hope for the upcoming season to change it all around.

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People are always going to call me crazy for loving this team. For going into the broken mass of concrete that is the Coliseum. Maybe I am crazy. But you know what? So are all the fans that go into the Coliseum hoping for a miracle. We are as mental as the misfit team of broken parts that still believe there is magic in Oakland.  I could give a rats ass about what anyone has to say about that. This is my home, this is my team, and more importantly, I will never stop rooting for you Oakland.

LET’S GO OAKLAND

Run away as fast as you can.

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Music has always been a huge factor in my life. For as long as I can remember. It’s the melody in the arrangements. The words that make up the lyrics in the song. Sometimes it’s the haunting storytelling that finds a way to tug at your heart strings. There’s always that one song. That one song that hits you in the gut and straight into your soul. The more you think you can hide from it, the more it keeps reappearing. That’s how I always felt about “Runaway”. It was always that song I tried to escape from. Its the lyrics that flow freely and become so vulnerable. The tiny glimpse of a soul that infiltrates your reality.

It starts within the first few seconds. The haunting echoing sounds of the keys. A backdrop of emptiness, that pierces through your chest. The more they repeat themselves the more it cuts you inside. One after the after. The same keys, then the drums crash and hit. It becomes this empty chaos. Just when the words start to come into play, you take it all back one last time.

And, I always find somethin’ wrong

The best way to explain situations is to formulate the words and say them yourself. I am not the best person. Some days I feel that I’m the villain in the film of life. I can’t shake that feeling. That desire to find the bad in everything. Just when I think I have it figured out, I can’t help but trash the whole system. I have that tendency to seek comfort in the demons of my life. Reaping the benefits of sorrow and blaming everyone in the process. I can’t help myself. Right when you think everything is okay, you find a way to bring everything down. I am so used to pretending I’m okay and in reality I’m not. Instead of letting wounds heal, I just pour more salt on the healing process. Always finding something wrong.

I’m so gifted at findin’ what I don’t like the most
When your spirit has been brought down so many times, how do you recover from that? How do you get the courage to seek good in bad situations? You build these walls that don’t allow anything to get through. You’re afraid of the emotion, you’re afraid of the consequences, you’re afraid of someone breaking down the walls. I let bad people into my life that have broken my spirit countless times. When you allow people to break you, you begin to break down the good people in your life. The people undeserving of your broken spirit. I can’t help but think of the monster I’ve become toward people. Saying things out of fear of my own demons. The same things that have haunted my life that come out through pure emotional withdraw. I think of all the people that put up with my bullshit and I continue to think of all the times I’ve let them down. Spilling out apologizes comes naturally to me, my only exception is that I actually mean it. Every time I say I will be better, I believe it. Every time I say “I’m sorry”, I believe it. I just don’t know anymore.
Words have a way of haunting you. Sometimes all you want to do is run away from them. Run away from all your problems, from all your emotional bullshit, everything. The revolving door of broken people will always be there. As much as I want to hide from my past, I can’t.  All I can ask is to take my apology and accept my forgiveness. I mean it this time. I mean it more than the first time. I mean it more than the last time. I just couldn’t help myself.
I’m sorry.
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The Wolves.

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Emptiness is a vacant feeling. Exhaustingly numbing. Taking more than a change of course to fill the void. Drinking the oceans dry but still feeling the pain of nothing. The pain that suffocates your insides and allowing just the gasps you desperately breathe in. No matter how hopeless the feeling it still catches up to you. Excepting things to change never happens. Only accepting the words instead of seeing the actions. All you’re asking for is a chance to change it all around, instead getting a list of excuses that lead to nothing. You breathe heavily into the night, hoping for a way out. All you want to do is escape and disappear. Only then will you find some sort of peace of mind. Only then will you find the peace you desperately crave.

Someday my pain will mark you.

Everything is a blur. One big fucking blur. You can’t describe it. The rain falls freely from your face and you can’t explain it. Delicately it tries to wash away all the sentiment that you’re feeling. It doesn’t. No matter how many times you form the words, nothing comes out. Its this pain in the pit of your stomach that reaches to your throat causing you to say nothing. What’s the use? What’s the purpose? You can’t help but think that anywhere is better then here. Anywhere far away is better then your current surroundings. Leaving into the night is your only option. Disappearing completely until you’re well enough to come to terms with reality again. Weighing out all the options and finding yourself with nothing.

You could run. Run as fast as you can but they’ll find you. The deeper you want to hide, they’ll catch you.  The wolves seek out the fear and desperation you carry around you. You keep running. Deep into the forest. Faster and further into the woods, hiding amongst the trees. The trees that fall gracefully like giants. The dark consumed by the fog that swallows us whole. The cold only masks what you’re hiding from. Scared to move, frozen to the touch. Your heart races with every step you take. Beating harder it pierces your chest, you can’t help but place your hands across your heart to feel it. Feel anything. Anything that isn’t the pain, that isn’t the numbing feeling of nothing. Something that once made you feel alive, is the very thing you’re running away from. All you want is a silence from the pain. You settle for the sweating fear that beads down from you. Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. You wish for it to stop.

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The forest welcomes your pain. The cold air that sends shivers down your spine is the only thing that reminds you, you’re alive. Blanket your sorrow with mist of the night. Come morning you’ll be left with just the regret of your mistakes while the light shines through. Until then you race faster to stay close to the darkness. Race to the darkest parts of the woods, to the darkest parts of your soul that still have an ounce of feeling left. Everything that you raced to soon disappears. Just as the fog lifts, so does the sadness that surrounds you. Only when you’re alone with your grief that you truly see the stars. Even stars need the darkness to shine.

Through the darkest nights comes a sparkle of light. Giving you hope that eventually this failing dissolution of sadness will disappear. Until then you continue this race towards the darkness. Further into the fog. Further into woods. Its there that no one will find you. Its there that you finally find your peace.

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I am like the dead sea.

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There are moments in your life where you want to forgive. Forgive just for the sake of finally forgetting. Good times, bad times, and even the ugliest of times. Maybe that’s where I find myself categorizing you. I want to forgive you. I want to forgive every hopeless thing you ever did to me. Forgive every time you said the words and never took them back. Forgive the times you made me believe in fairytales and the hope that things would get better. Instead, I find myself forgetting you without forgiving you. Forgetting you in favor of letting go. Letting go would mean that it would finally be over and I’d have nothing left to hold on to. This tainted memory of an unbiased image of you and the regret you left me with.

I can’t forgive you. The more I try to say the words, I can’t bring myself to do it. How could I forgive someone that has never said “I’m sorry”?  How do you become the bigger person in a situation that left you beyond repair? I can’t keep playing the victim. I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt, when it does. When my heart can’t open up the way it used to. When my soul still searches for an ounce of goodness in a vile person like you. You always said I was the better person. Lately, I just don’t feel like myself. I stopped believing in so many things that I’ve forgotten what my purpose is. I’ve continued to wipe my slate clean, but I never start over. Forgiving to forget you, when all I want is to forgive the things I can’t forget.

In a year, you said I would find my way to hate you. In reality it took me too long to come to terms with hating you. I can’t hate anybody. As much as I have the ammo to hate you, I can’t. Maybe deep down I am trying to be the good person you once saw in me. I just get so clouded with memories that its hard to remember who I used to be. I used to be so many things. I used to be a person in love and now I have nothing to show for it. I used to believe in lot of things and lately I just can’t begin to start. Forgiving is easy, forgiving is being free of all the hurt that the past has dealt you. The more I start to forgive, the angry I become with myself. The person I was in the past still with the mistakes of yesterday. No matter how many steps I take forward, I find myself running back. Back to the familiar, back to the stupid nonsense bullshit I should be over with.

You told me not to trust you, and that’s just what I did. You told me not to love you, and that’s just what I did.

Believing every word that I’ve tried so desperately to forget. Putting my trust in a person far to broken to ever understand the meaning of love. I know to love a person is to fully let go of yourself and put the trust in someone else’s hands. But I want it back. All of it. Everything that you put me through, every vile bullshit thing you said to me. I didn’t deserve it. I deserved better and you always knew that.  Finally, I know that now. I want it back. All of it. Every tear, every smile, every time I brought you up that you didn’t hesitate to bring me back down. I want the tiny broken fragments of my heart back. The heart you so carelessly tossed aside and I without hesitation gave to you. It’s the only thing I desperately want back. The one thing I find myself missing in the end. It’s only when I have everything back that I can fully forgive you.

I have to be the bigger person to forgive you. Forgive every word that brought me to tears. Every frightening word that cut through me worse than any knife could. To allow my soul to rest and my heart heal, I have to forgive you. Only then will I be truly able to forget you and finally let you go. I know I’ll never get the apology, I’ve wanted from you. To be honest I don’t want anything from you anymore. Even the heart that I’ve lost, will not return to me. Eventually I’ll get a version of my heart back, maybe not in the way it was before. Stronger, better, who knows. I am okay with that because in the end, I have to forgive. Forgive the past, forgive you and more importantly forgive myself.  I know, I deserve better. Next time I won’t be so careless with my heart. Next time I’ll know that I have to love myself before ever trusting a mirror image of you. When I can forgive myself is when I can forgive you. Until then I have a long ways to go.

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**This post was written a few months ago in my journal. While I do not harbor the same feelings I once did, I just wanted to revisit this and write it down publicly. Putting this post out is finally coming to terms and getting a sense of closure on this previous chapter of my life. I’m okay now, I promise. **

Liebster Award.

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Imagine my surprise when the lovely Jessica Lynn of Wildflowers for Brunch nominated me for a Liebster Award. Not only am I totally stoked and extremely honored, it made me feel downright special. I absolutely love reading Jessica’s twitter (we are totally twitter friends!) and her blog is equally amazing. If you don’t already follow her I highly suggest a follow to her blog/twitter!!!

The Liebster Award is a great way discover and give recognition to new blogs!

Here’s the deal, once nominated you must:

  • Write 11 facts about yourself
  • Nominate 5-11 bloggers for the Award
  • Answer 11 questions provided by the presenter, then write 11 questions for your nominees

 

11 Random Facts about Me:

1. My name is Martha Elizabeth. However I do not like my first name. Therefore I usually go by my middle name or my family name “Ellie”.  My oldest friends still call me by my first name but I cringe every time I hear that name.

2.  I drink more iced tea than humanly possible.

3.  My birthday is on Halloween. However I never celebrate Halloween. I’ve always celebrated my birthday first then Halloween second.

4. Baseball is one of my favorite sports. My favorite team is the Oakland Athletics. Yes, I do have baseball superstitions. Yes, they are real.

5. I have a weird connection with the number “5”. Its a number that always pops up randomly. Either my change will be in all 5’s or I’ll be at register 5, or just weird little occurrences with the number.

6. Being of Mexican descent, I am very picky about Mexican food.  I can’t eat just any where and anyone’s food.

7.  I have 5 tattoos. For personal reasons only 2 are visible and 3 are hidden.

8. I believe that if you do not like 90’s hip-hop & r&b, we cannot be friends.

9. I am a magazine hoarder. TRUST when I say, it’s bad

10.  Breakfast food is the best food. Especially waffles and pancakes. Yeah, I said it.

11.  I have a huge fear of being abandoned. Which is why I don’t camp or do anything with the outdoors. I’ve watched too many of those wilderness survival shows and that will not be happening to me!

 

Jessica’s Questions:

  1. If you were a tea, what flavor would you be? Is it wrong that I’ve actually thought of this? I would be Ginger Peach and I would be Iced. If you haven’t tried it before, it’s magical.
  2. What is the first song you ever fell in love with? “If I fell” by the Beatles. It brings back so many childhood memories.
  3. What book most accurately expresses your viewpoint on life? Mindy Kaling’s “Is everyone hanging out without me”.  It was like everything I was thinking put into print. Word for word.
  4. In one word, describe how 2014 is going so far. Relaxed. Its less chaotic, no drama, less bullshit, just spiritually in a better place.
  5. What is your favorite perfume scent? Marc Jacobs “Cotton”. I try not to use it often but honestly it’s one of the most cleanest and happiest scents
  6. Invent your ideal milkshake. What’s in it? Chocolate and peanut butter. Two of the best combinations ever.
  7. Are you a fox or a hedgehog? SONIC THE HEDGEHOG
  8. Which FRIENDS character are you? I used to believe Rachel until I started a complete re-watch of the series. Now I just think I’m the female Chandler.
  9. Describe your ideal lazy day.  Without a doubt have to be large consumptions of food, coffee, tea. Either reading a great book or watching all of my great films. That’s as lazy as I get.
  10. You get to re-invent the rainbow with seven colors of your choosing. What are they? it would definitely be just variations of the color green. Just a rainbow of ombre greens!!!
  11. What is your favorite Wes Anderson movie?  The Royal Tenenbaums. For many multiple reasons but mainly because of Margot Tenenbaum.

 

Now that I have answered, I would like to nominate the following:

Lily – I Want to be the Girl with the Most Cake

Hilda – 30 Into the Three-Oh

Nina – The European Redhead

Katzi – She Loves You and So do I

Crystal – Imakesht

 

These are my questions:

 

1. What is the last purchase you made?

2. What is your favorite article of clothing?

3. Is there anything you have left to accomplish before 2014 is over?

4. What is your current favorite album at the moment?

5. What is the one song that always reminds you that everything is going to be okay?

6. What and where is your favorite hometown hangout?

7. If you could give one piece of advice to people, what would it be?

8. Favorite quote that motivates you:

9. Who would you cast to play you in the movie of your life?

10. What is your guilty pleasure snack?

11. What is your favorite TV sitcom of the 90’s?

 

Thank you, thank you, thank you to the lovely Jessica! Do yourself a favor and head on over to her blog!!! http://www.wildflowersforbrunch.com.

To my favorite lovely people that I have nominated, have fun! Don’t forget to send me the link of your finished product :)

 

 

Need you like water in my lungs.

This story’s old but it goes on and on until we disappear.

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You feel it.

This silent disconnect from the world.  Floating in the sea and feeling the weight of the world pull you down into the ocean. Drowning yourself in the pain of your own sorrows. Lifeless with no will to fight anymore. The words that you’ve allowed to infect your soul just weighing you down one by one. Thinking of every memory of your past and watch it come apart in your present. Knowing better than the truth and watching yourself succumbing to it’s reality. The lies of someone else’s belief of the truth. The broken parts you can’t help but watch fall even further apart. Believing the same lies and beating yourself up from being fooled for the last time. Deep down you fall deeper in the ocean of these regrets. Knowing better but wishing things had been different. Words were once wishes and desires for something better. Clinging for hope in the mist of desperation. There was once something held so beautifully and now you watch it wash away the deeper you fall. Below the surface and deeper into the abyss. You become the dead weight that others so proudly called you. Lifeless and alone.

I spoke the words but never gave a thought to what they all could mean.

It’s harder to breathe. The venom filled garbage you tell yourself is what suffocates you. You lose the air that you once held so superior above everything else. Replacing it with every negative aspect of your life. The sorrow, the sadness, and at times even the madness. Asking for things to change and accepting the every ounce of the bullshit you feel. Everything inside of you just begging to be set free but no matter how many times you say the words you don’t believe them. The will you had to continue on has frozen inside and sunk below sea level. Trying desperately to grasp it and all you have left are water filled lungs and this emptiness inside. You go through the movements but still feel nothing. Setting your sails up for failure and watching yourself disappear towards the sea. The water is the only thing that will calm your bones. Calm the craziness of the storm that you hold inside of you. Suppressing the screams of madness you hide from the world.

Watching this storm throw your body off course. The rain merged with the tears and all you want is to succumb to it. Allowing the words to cut through you as the wind does. The storm falls short on your own sadness and the more you wish for yourself to wash up on the shore, you can’t. You fall deeper into the sea wishing to disappear. No one knows your sadness better than this storm. The words that haunt you and wash you off course. The salt of your tears matched perfectly with the sea.

But the wrong words will strand you.

Believing those lies. Believing even the kindest of hearts could ever be so impure. Knowing how much love is a risk and at any given moment it will strand you. Still you hold on to the words as unkind as they are because deep down you believe them. They hurt more than anything and still like clockwork you believe them. They were once the hope to get better and now they’re the stones that sink you straight to the bottom. The deep blue sea is a forgiving place but all you want to do is forget. Forgetting is easy for the sailors that play their part. You can’t control the emotions of others, therefore you throw yourself from the sand further to the sea. Sailing away to disappear to forget everything. Everything that caused an ounce of sadness. Everything that made the hurt of heartbreak. Everything that made the illusion of disappearing a dream and the running away a fantasy. You can’t escape the words as much as you can’t escape the sea. The more you think you need someone is the day they let you down. The day they go from saint to sinner, from sailor to stranger.

Needing you is needing forgiveness from a storm. Needing you is needing rain in a never ending drought. Needing you is like needing water in my lungs.

And this is the end.

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You are my center when I spin away.

It’s the nights that keep you wondering. Your thoughts that manage to keep you up at night. No matter how many times you toss and you turn, you just can’t keep the images out. The same people, different faces. The same words, different spaces. This recurring deja vu that haunts you when you sleep. You pick the darkest of the nights to disappear from the world. Fall beneath the cracks and you grab only what you need.

Hit play.
Press Repeat.

You play that song. That one song that you lose everything to. That one that keeps the screams inside, keeps the madness and even the demons at bay. The melody hits, hums and you synchronize your breathing to it. You slowly disappear into the music. Reciting every line by memory and falling deeper inside the melody. The words hit you colder than any winter wind could. You embrace it. All you want is to run away. Running away into the night and fall deeper into the darkness. Watching the mist of the cold swallow you whole and watch yourself disappear. In the darkness is where you leave the worry, the sadness and even the regret. You release all the fears, mistakes and even all the madness you can’t get out in waking day. Lies you continue to tell yourself and for one brief moment you are free. The morning comes and it all disappears. The light washes away the darkness and a new day is upon us. All you have left of the night is the same song you repeat to yourself. The same melody haunts your memories as a soundtrack to your dreams.

No matter how many times you’ve heard that song, it helps you through the day. The lines that stick like second skin to your soul. The melody that transports you to different places and different times. You remember the sadness of being broken and the happiness of being loved. It all disappears the moment the song ends and you can’t help but restart. You love how it haunts you but you hate how it leaves you. Not broken, not sad, just closed off from the world and the people that don’t understand. No one understands this song better than you. Nobody. Then you fall even deeper than you did before.

Slowly you start feeling better. Slowly you find yourself listening to that song less. It’s there when you need it, right where you left it. Only to return when you need it the most. When you’re heart is heavy and you can’t help but fall back to that point. When your mind starts to wonder to the past, the present and even your sick twisted visions of the future. It will be there. Just where you left it. Waiting.

And it will be okay.

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes, I still need you.

Heart skipped a beat.

Words have a way of infecting your soul. Even more so in lyrical musical form. How haunting the arrangements, how thrilling the words. The way they cut you straight to the core, straight to your soul. You can’t help but form a tiny sense of nostalgia. The memories of your past that always seem to haunt you. It starts to flow right out of you and you can’t help but find yourself saying “Sometimes, I still need you“.

Maybe it’s a source of weakness. The weakest link just knowing that when you least expect it, you go rushing back to the one thing that will always let you down. You know it. The whole world knows it but you just can’t help yourself. You miss that moment when your heart would skip a beat for someone. The hurt and the pain come naturally, just like second nature. You put yourself out there and find yourself back at the bottom. You wonder why you continue returning to this sinking ship and again you just couldn’t help yourself. Sad is better than lonely.

How you do recover from your biggest heartbreak? When all you do is constantly return to the scene of the crime. You wish for things to be different. They never are. One day it would will be different. One day you’ll be strong enough to let go and be done with everything. Eventually this will all be a small footnote in the story of your life. Until then you keep coming back because you allow it happen. Everyone can tell you how wrong it is, but you do it anyway. Its the thrill of the past that keeps you holding on. The memories of a connection you had with someone that no matter the outcome it all seemed worth it.

It’s starts with a voice and ends with a song. The melody keeps the memories trapped until you hit repeat. Replaying every memory that you can’t help but reach out for. It’s all there taunting you and no matter how many times you say no, you can’t help yourself. Its brings you back in. Back in for the hurt, the pain, and more importantly the regret. It’s never worth it. You end up right back where you started from. The sickness worse than the flu and this rush of a thousand tears that never stop falling. Like clockwork it’s over and eventually you move on. You just couldn’t help yourself, you just couldn’t fucking help yourself.

Sometimes, I still need you.

Magic’s in the Makeup.

Can you tell I’m faking it?

Photographs have of a way of telling half a story. Just a tiny glimpse of what we want the world to see through perfectly strategic settings and beautifully flattering filters. Telling everyone what you want them to believe. It’s amazing to see life through other peoples perceptions of you. Yet you can’t help but wonder how many people really see the real you. How many people can tell the façade from the reality. A picture is worth a thousand words but how many of those words are the real thing?

Not at my best time but don't I look great. 2007 / 2008.

Not at my best time but don’t I look great. 2007 / 2008.

The past couple of months and in doing this blog, I have found myself faced with reality on numerous occasions. The countless lies I’ve told, the stories, and even going through the photographs of my past. What makes a photograph from when I was 23, different from the photograph of myself at 31? My reality and what I wanted you to believe.  I controlled the story I wanted to tell. I orchestrated the image of myself I wanted you to see. I did it. Because telling the lie was easier than telling the truth about my problems. Nobody asks any questions when you put your life out there for the world to see. It’s only what you don’t put forth in the world that gets people asking the questions. It’s easy to pretend to be someone else in a photograph. Someone better than who you really are. Finding the perfect angles, cropping your best features, and believing that you’re going to be okay. I believed that for years. This perfect image I put forth in the world was who I really was. I wasn’t okay.

Make-up’s all off. Who am I?

For six years I suffered with an eating disorder to the point of obsession. You don’t realize how much of a problem you have until it consumes you and controls every part of your life. I hid that from everyone. 6 years of photographs standing by countless people who didn’t have a clue about my life. Who didn’t know that every countless excuse I made to go home early was so I could throw up my food in the dark confides of my home. Counting the consumption of calories and calculating what I could throw up later in the time I had left. It became a sick twisted sport and I was fucking good at it. My gums bled and my teeth hurt and I didn’t care because an acceptance to be perfect was better than being ignored. I believed it.  I became obsessed with my abilities to hide my problem that it over powered my past problems. This became bigger than my depression, bigger than my cutting, it was a problem I could hide through the photographs. Nobody knew.

You want to believe that you have control of your problem. I wanted to believe that. For the days I threw up my food, I counted the days I didn’t. When my weight wasn’t matching up or the healthy alternative ways weren’t working, I went back to vomiting. I turned this problem on, I could very easily turn it off. For every bad day I had, I just binge ate then hid in the bathroom. I blamed food poisoning, cramps, the flu, everything except the problem at hand. I refused to believe I had a problem. I could control this problem, I could stop everything as soon as I was ready. I believed it. It started because of this need for acceptance, this belief that every photograph was closer to my true self. I knew it was wrong, I knew of the consequences and still I believed I could control this. The reality of it was I couldn’t control my problem. Every time I hid this problem the worse it got.

I believed I was okay. In some twisted fucked up way I had everything under control. I would go months without vomiting and then something would trigger it to happen again. I grew this fear of food, this obsession that everything I ate was a consequence for my mistakes. The love I once had for food became this hatred toward it. It was so easy to pretend this wasn’t a problem. I just couldn’t stop. Then comes a point in your life where you can’t do it anymore. Where the pure exhaustion of life just has you at your wits end. I reached my breaking point and after six years of hurting myself physically and emotionally, I couldn’t do it. It was bigger than anything I could ever imagine. I wish I could say that everything disappeared and I healed myself but every day is a struggle. I had to learn to love imperfections within myself. Watching my body change isn’t easy and as much as I want to resort to old ways, I couldn’t. It became my quest to get better. Another struggle that I told nobody about. While people poked fun at my weight gain, for the first time I didn’t cry. I started writing down everything I ate and with the miracle wonders of social media I started documenting every meal I ate. For every picture I took of my food, it was my silent trophy that I ate that and was okay with it.

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There’s always going to be a part of me that’s broken. A part of me that’s messy with imperfections but I have to be okay to live with that. I am always going to be my hardest critic but at the end of the day I have to be okay with not being perfect. No one’s perfect. It’s been two years since I have vomited my food. Two years since I let this sickness consume my life. I wish I could say that it has been an easy recovery, but it hasn’t been. Some days are easier and some days are harder. I am better than all this bullshit and you know what? I am doing the best I can.

My true essence. Photo Credit: Jazelle Prado.

My true essence. Photo Credit: Jazelle Prado.