TALKING YOURSELF OUT OF IT

 You’re fine. 

Say it again. 

Until those two words reach your limbs. 

Look in the mirror. 

Ignore the tired in your eyes. 

Implore yourself to smile. 

Don’t cry. 

You’re fine. 

Get dressed. 

Go be perfect. 

Go be incredible. 

Go be the friend your friends deserve. 

Go be everything you’re in need of. 

Try again. 

Try harder. 

Don’t quit.

You’re fine. 

Remember better days. 

Disappear in them. 

Come back stronger. 

Stop complaining. 

You’re fine. 

Be happy. Be happy. Be happy. 

Be ashamed for not being happier. 

Pull yourself out of it. 

Find your footing. 

Find your dreams. 

You’re fine. 

Look for the light. 

Be the light. 

Work harder. 

Work more. 

Work. 

Laugh, despite that sinking feeling. 

Swallow the knot in your throat. 

Step over the pit in your stomach. 

It’s not your fault that it’s your fault. 

It’s ok to not be ok, 

but hurry up and be ok. 

You’re fine. 

Say it again. 

Say it until you hate it. 

Say it until you can’t stand the taste of it. 

Say it until there’s no air left in your lungs. 

Say it until you cough on your own exhaustion. 

Say it one final time, 

then swear to never say it again. 

Don’t leave the raging tempests within you untouched. 

Let the heavy rain soak your burnt-out frame.

Stand still and beg for the lighting strike.

Feel all of life profusely. 

Learn the rough weather you’re made of,

until you love the storm you are.

A Reminder

 the next time 

you refuse to sing

because you’ll never 

fill a stadium

or decline the joy of dance

for fear of looking

ridiculous

or you resist risking

the new adventure

because you’re 

not entirely ready or

you dim your shine

because you’re not

completely healed and whole

the next time

you hold yourself suspect 

because you’re not

entirely qualified

just remember

a bird doesn’t sing 

because it’s talented

a bird sings because 

it has a song

the moon doesn’t only shine

when it’s whole

it can show up with 

a single sliver of itself

and still light an entire

night sky

show up. sing. shine.

the world needs you

as you are

The What If

This is a ramble.  Consider yourself warned. I'm so working out out.

I don’t need to know. 

I don’t have all the answers. 

I don’t even care where we go from here, 

so long as it’s together. 

What if we just drifted without worry, 

and chose to float freely through this wonderful, sacred space. 

Without aim. 

Without the end in mind. 

Without the weight of expectations holding us down. 

What if we just watered one another -

blossomed and grew roots.

What if we got out of the way, 

and allowed fate to unfold before us? 

Something brought us together. 

You feel it, too – this connection. 

This energy and pull towards one another. 

It seems almost otherworldly. 

One moment my life was recognizable, 

familiar. 

Then, everything was vibrant all at once. 

Now I can’t look back. 

It’s taken a lifetime to trust what touches me deeply. 

Even though I don’t always understand it, 

I owe it to my soul 

to make the most of the journey. 

It’s easy to overlook the future when the space you’re in feels like everything. 

If forever never arrives, please know

this will still be enough for me.

Don’t tell me you’re not ready.

We’ve been twisting in the wind

for long enough.

Let me have my way with you,

raw, entirely.

Give in.

Let go.

I want your out of body experience.

Your eyes locked onto mine.

Your lip-bitten pleasure.

Your nails raking my bare skin.

To hear you begging.

   I’m not stopping.

Don’t tell me you need to rest.

We’ve been dreaming this dream

for long enough.

Let me learn you in ways others

couldn’t.

We’re safe in these sheets.

Let me in.

I want your hair by the fistful.

Your screams for more.

Your throat in my hands.

You, dripping on the floor.

 I’ll love you like you need me to.

Don’t tell me you’re tired.

We’re not done yet.

Let me take you to the other side.

Keep going.

   Hold on to me.

      Come with me.

I want your teeth against flesh.

I want to taste the sweat beading on your chest.

Your hunger - carnal and rising.

Your expletives wet.

Your every goddam drop of every goddam thing.

I’m in you so deep now.

Don’t tell me it’s too much.

I’ll love you until you’ve had enough.

Tell me you’re ready.

A relationship is a living thing, it needs to breathe… 

When You and I come together with love, we create “Us”.

And us is a real thing.

We know this because we refer to couples in particular ways…

We think of couples as a unit.

Because they are. 

As social organisms we are designed to bond and create tight units with other humans for biological and evolutionary purposes (and spiritual). 

We survive better with others. 

There is a significant part of our nervous system dedicated entirely to this process of bonding. 

Our Attachment System. 

When healthy, we attach smoothly with those who are values aligned and who feel safe to us.

A relationship, as we know it, is the synergistic blending of two (or more) lives together in order to co-create a new direction.

The better our synergy, the more abundantly we are capable of co-creating…and the better life we have. 

As long as our Attachment System is functioning healthily. 

Because like every living organism it needs to breathe…

Breathing in, we come together in connection.

Breathing out, we rest back into our individual selves

Space and togetherness

If we were to only breathe in, we would die. 

Relationally, this is enmeshment. 

If we were to only breathe out, we would die. 

Relationally, well this isn’t a relationship.

Yet because relationships are composed of two beings dancing together, we tend to polarise to one of the events.

One partner is always trying to make the relationship breathe in.

The other is always trying to make it breathe out.

And so the relationship hyper-ventilates… it can’t take a full, deep breath.

Not breathing deeply severely impacts human health. 

So too in relationship…

The desire for deeper connection is healthy. The desire for space to be ourselves is healthy

WHEN THEY ARE BALANCED.

Most of becoming secure is just learning how to do this.

Learning how to breathe together.

Remarkably simple in concept

Significantly challenging in action

It takes time to find this beautiful rhythmic breath.

Yet I also completely believe anyone can.

Comparisons

"Stop looking for happiness in the same place you lost it."

I've been working on this post for about a week now.  I don't know why I haven't been able to bring myself to finish it.  Actually, we always know why we hesitate.  It's the acknowledgement of our dark places that become a problem and sometimes we just can't.  I'm not even drunk and I'm laying out my feels.  Here goes nothing.  Be kind.

Growing up, our parents and family are supposed to be our examples of how we should be treated in the world.  In school, we learn from our peers.  What happens to ourselves when we are in an abusive relationship?  Several, in my case.

More so, the relationship that we have after the abusive relationship.  Or as anyone who knows me puts it, the repeated mind fuck of relationships that have molded me into the asshole I am now.

What happens when your previous contact with the human world was so damaging, that you don't recognize who you were at the beginning and came out of it not completely unscathed, but alive and semi-functional at least?

You feel like vomiting at the thought of being left, ignored, shamed, and violated so you avoid feeling anything for anyone for fear that it will happen all over again. 

Then when you do get to the point where someone breaks down all of your barriers, you self-sabotage in an effort to feel the familiar hurt. I got to that point on the 10th of this month, see Instagram post about my keychain. I truly n.e.v.e.r. want to go to "that place", ever again.  

And then you realize that they're not going to hurt you.  Not physically anyway.  You are also fully aware that this one could be Henry Rollins in disguise and you want to put on your vixen face because you'll be damned if you're going to be spiritually Napalmed again. 

What do you do?  There's always the what if nagging at you.  You feel like a deer being pursued by a wolf.  Trouble is coming and you're ready to bolt.  But then you look into their eyes and you lose the train of thought you were on and you're frozen.

Do you run?  Do you become agitated when they're nice to you?  Do you grasp for anything you can while you're waiting for the other shoe to drop?

I'll tell you what you do. 

You stop breathing the second you hear their voice because it's so wonderful to hear someone saying something nice to you without hearing the familiar echo in the other ear.  You know the one.  They say "You're wonderful" and you hear "But she's prettier than you".

Fear.  You are terrified and you love it.  You feel alive for a change.  Your friends are even looking at you a little funny, and all you can muster is a grin and shrug.  My mom even called it when I was busy trying to talk myself out of it.  That's never happened.

If ever there was a spell sent out to the Universe for the man with everything you want that couldn't exist, because if he didn't exist you'll never have a broken heart, this one.  

"I dream of a love that even time will lay down and be still for".  

But they do exist.  And it's surreal.  And weird.  Frankly, a little Alfred Hitchcock-ish.  Downright Twilight Zoney. I have spent the majority of my poetry writing about an imaginary guy, and what I want him to be exactly like, and he was brought to me on the solar eclipse.  

Guys, the universe has finally cracked the code on me with this one. 

On April 8th, I had made a plan with my friend to celebrate her birthday. Seriously, who has a birthday on the eclipse and doesn't celebrate? I couldn't let her get away with not. Anyways her and a couple other friends I was supposed to meet up with at six at Delvino's in Belfast went to the Front Street Pub to pre-game and lo and behold, there he was, just trying to enjoy a beer after work and mind his own damn business. 

You guys know that I for one, was also minding my own damn business.  I met this friend and the other people that I was meeting in a single's group.  A bunch of single people who hang out and do stuff.   Who knew it was going to lead to the only person that I want to do cool stuff with for the rest of my life? Certainly not me.

When I showed up to dinner, they told me what they did. His presence made my brain tingle before I even saw his face.  Then he sat down next to me and smiled, and a voice in the back of my brain, that I like to pretend is an ancestor speaking and not my vagina, said, "That one."

I messaged him the next day and after an hour or so of chatting,  my dumbwit brain whose attempt to flirt somewhat resembles a hippo in a synchronized swimming competition, sent the message,  "I like your face. I'd like to see more of it. " There's a lot in between then and now. But it doesn't matter because it's all brought us here. 

You don't want to get used to them.  They are going to find out exactly how damaged and screwed up you truly are and will run for their lives.  But you also find yourself not wanting them to run.  In fact, you find yourself feeling like a purring kitten when they smile at you.  It's freaking you out to no end, but you also don't want it to stop because, hey it's kind of nice to feel floating and goosebumps instead of the burn of vomit and the cold shock of your blood pressure changing while in a constant state of panic and dread. I actually sleep next to him; unheard of! Sleepovers were never allowed before him.  A man in my bed at all, for that matter. 

Speaking of bed things....I deleted 100% of my "old life", IFYKYK. But in turn, I have an all-new praise kink that came out of nowhere. Anyone who knows me, knows something is amiss with regard to that in the biggest way possible. But when it comes to him, it isn't. Again, about the writing to the imaginary person who includes some fun things of their own.  

Some things are allowed to be just mine. At the same time, I can't say that I mind turning the house into the red-light district every now and again. If your math is mathing, then you're also picking up what I'm putting down. I am most definitely getting my daily dose of D. 

This man is a walking library filled with your favorite words.  Everything they say to you sounds like Christmas morning.  What the frig are you supposed to do with that!?!?!?!?!? Conversations are completely effortless. We have so much in common for two people who have never met until this point in their lives for it to not be concocted by forces greater than ourselves.

Breathe.  Use your brain.  They're words!  Just words.  Calm your tits!  And for Pete's sake, stop it with the kind things already! 

I mean, so what if my shepherd's pie tastes like a marriage proposal?

They look at you like you're a magical mythical creature and here you are at last in front of them.    They're just playing you.  Or are they?  It's very alluring.   Like a mermaid who's going to drag you to your death.

Seriously though, I love with this man so much that I don't even know who the fuck I'm trying to kid.

At the beginning of this week when we were in Bar Harbor, he took a picture of his view out of the window in the restaurant that we were at because it was beautiful, and he wanted to make sure that I was able to see it. Yes, it brought me to tears. Who thinks of things like this except for him? Well, of course I do, but I was certain that I was the only one.

I have the walking equivalent to the best day ever in human form right in front of me.  Anything beyond me just thanking the universe is cocky. I'm still holding fast to the theory that he was created in a lab. 

Follow your heart and bring your brain with you, that's all I have to say at the moment.  If anyone has an extra, that'd be great.

Dear You

Dear you;

Yes you, the man who accepts the entirety of me.  

Relationships take a lot of work, but when I found you - the one I didn't see coming, the one that opened my eyes, and a door to a whole new world full of possibility; everything with you and this (whatever it is) seemed to just come naturally and everything fell right into place.  I love you, and I don't give a shit who knows.  I just thought maybe you should know that.  Sorry not sorry that I have given up on holding back my feelings (in this one very brief moment that we can pretend in person isn't happening) and they've invaded your personal space and violated the foundation of everything you say you don't want (but by keeping me around are all but saying that you do).  I'm experiencing a whole new realm of feelings and emotions that I, truthfully, have never experienced and have no idea in hell what to do with.

I've been letting my past haunt me and rather than not trusting in you, I'm doing the complete opposite.  Like a toddler you're watching sneak off with a box of cookies thinking you're busy watching TV, I don't trust my heart to keep it's shit together when it comes to you;  and frankly, since I'm being honest for a moment, it's times like this that I can't.  I have opened myself up and have (somehow) given you unparalleled access to wreck me entirely.  And I (somehow) have faith that you won't.

All my life, even as a little girl watching cartoons and who's first crush was He-Man (please don't judge, I was 4), I've always fallen in love with the idea that the man who's meant for me is a good guy who's strong and makes me feel safe and secure and is funny and when I saw him for the first time the whole world would melt away and I'd be magically happy forever.  So basically, an alien-ninja-clown-Casanova hybrid.  Sorry for that. 

Truthfully, that sounds so stupid of me to even say, simply because I know that you are far more than what my imagination could have even imagined, far more than all of the skeletons in my past, and much more than the "average Joe."  And I would know that, because I kind of used to be a whore.

You aren't perfect, and you'll be the first to tell me just that, but neither am I and that's what I love about you the most. Your imperfections are what make you so perfect in all of your unique little ways. You treat me with the utmost respect, you at least like me unconditionally, you never let me fail or doubt myself, you've encouraged and supported me, you stand by me in the rough waters and the calm, and you calm me down like no other.

I know that I doubt you and I rant when I'm upset, but I also know that you have me pegged and understand when I mean things and when I don't.  I'm stubborn and my mind wanders (like a fucking squirrel), but I also know that just because you don't react or respond in a way that I expect you to does not mean that you don't care or that you care any less.  One thing for certain is that we always know just how to talk to each other and flush those assumptions down the porcelain god.  Seriously, the amount of patience you have exerted listening to my rants, that are at least weekly, I'm in total awe of the fact  that you haven't permanently injured something attached to yourself.  You give the best advice.  And I almost feel guilty that I'm paying you solely with sex and the occasional baked goods.

I literally have the human version of a blessing in disguise right in front of me.  I can't explain why I constantly seek reassurance, and I'm so sorry that I do because you literally give me absolutely no reason for it.  I overthink and underestimate you at times, but I also know that we're both still in the process of learning each other. 

So basically, a big shout out to your parents for creating you.  I'm glad you exist, and thank you for putting up with me.

Me

Half Measures

"Tell me we are hopeless and I will give up hope for you and I but until then that hope stirs within my head projecting images of us telling stories that we have yet to tell."
                          -S.L. Gray

Maybe we were just bad timing.  
Maybe we'll meet again in another three years from now.  
What if we were only trying to be bad because being good to each other was hurting us too much?
Just a stagnant reminder of all things that went wrong beforehand.

My entire body is tortured.  Not having you;  not touching you.  
You were the rabbit hole I'd been searching for.
One look at you and all I saw was an entire universe waiting to be discovered.
You were a wonderland and inward I fell.
I wasn't looking for a relationship.
I just wanted a partner to laugh, smile and enjoy life with for a while
Or forever...
I wanted to connect to your soul, have you talk about your complexities
and push each other out of our comfort zones.

You asked me a little while ago when we were discussing doing that thing that you like
"Why no other man has kept me."
The answer is quite simple you see;
I have never kept anyone around who had any interest in knowing who I am.
Never.  Not once.
I have never opened myself up to anyone.
I always just kind of "went along"
What drove me to do that, I can't say
Fear that they'd leave if I was myself?
They did anyway so clearly it wouldn't have mattered
Through weird vibes in the universe that are completely out of my usual realm
and in every fiber of my being that wishes for this to make sense:
nothing about what this is does.
I can't explain what happens to me when you come near me.
It's like all this time I've been this feral, wild beast in a cage and then you were my rescuer.
With one touch I was instantly tamed in spirit and I had no choice in the matter.
Whatever the fuck peace was, being with you was mine.

In other words:  I gave you an unparalleled access to wreck me.
And so you have.

And still I wonder if my relentless ability to hold on is a blessing or a curse.
Hope and ignorance are good drinking buddies on a foggy night when 2 a.m. memories 
of your smile wake me up.
Everything I have ever let go over has claw marks all over it.
I have a soul that longs to be loved for who I really am.
Maybe you were just some random sign from the universe 
to prove to me that miracles really do exist 
and to prove to me that I really do have a heart.

That is now broken.

We are all a little fucked up, so let's just be real with each other.  
You and I have more skeletons in our closets than most and can barely close the doors, 
so let's stop placing blame and pointing fingers.  
Forgiveness.  Put down the sword.  
To expect a soul's mate to be mistake free is dumb.  
You're only breaking your own heart by expecting this.  
I don't want to play that game anymore.  
In saying that it would mean I wanted to play it to begin with.
Frankly, the only answer I feel I can ever utter when it comes to you is "Okay."
I have spent more of the time that I've known you emotional, 
upset and confused than any other time in my life.  
Some external to us, some caused by us.  
If only you'd stop viewing love with your own narcissistic entanglements.  
We all want what we want until the person that wants us expresses pain 
that we've caused them
Finally a light has come on;  
I cannot give a person the blessings they deserve if they are not interested, even if that blessing is me.  

Please understand, there is a Grand Canyon of difference between the girl that likes you and the woman that needs you.

For me, some things are not options:  
I love hard and completely and I laugh even harder.  
I expect a call when I am told that there is an existence of intention to do so giving me hope. 
I was raised to never allow another person to feel like they are nothing 
I will hold you accountable when you do;  
even if it is after the hundredth time I've bit my tongue.
 I've finally had enough.
I devote myself to those who want me because that's who I am.  
I'm not begging you to stay, 

I won't chase what doesn't want me around.
I was never asking you to trust me.
I was only hoping for a chance.
That you decided you couldn't afford to give.
There will be no more, "I'll call" and then don't respond madness.
I am a person worth having, 
So commit to being in my life or just watch me from social media.

Half measures are not allowed.

If you wanted me, you would have found me.   
The only certainty I know is that if knowing that someone is who you should be with the second you hear a syllable of their voice, 
then I'd rather be condemned for loving all the wrong things than loved for hating everything you consider right. 

It's not letting go of the past that is a problem for me.  
It's that the cruel and unusual mind wants to keep its fantasies.  
Even when they're wrong and cruel to our hearts.  
It's that it's a constant struggle to let go of the possibilities that I saw 
in those rose colored kaleidoscopes.

            "It's all right."  He touched her face, gently, with the back of his hand.  "You disappear so completely into your head sometimes," he said.  "I wish I could follow you."
            You do, she wanted to say.  You live in my head all the time.  Instead she said, "What did you want to tell me?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I am dead,
And over me bright April
Shakes out her rain drenched hair
Tho you should lean above me broken hearted
I shall not care.
For I shall have peace
As leafy trees are peaceful
When rain bends down the bough
And I shall be more silent and cold hearted
Than you are now

-Sara Teasdale

The Real Kind

I think I've come to a point in my life where I understand people better,
or at least I try to.
When I see anger, I also see confusion and anxiety.
When I see tears I also see frustration and a willingness to keep fighting.

When I see you...
I see someone who just might change my entire world.

Can I tell you now that I love you?
Because I do.

The real kind.
I thought I was in love once.
It felt so right but we were not prepared to fall in love
So we settled to fall in pretend,
and then we both moved on like strangers on a city sidewalk.

But you,
You're my three page love letter in a world full of relationship status updates.
Complete with heart-dotted "I"s.

A mouth can bring pain or pleasure.
Mine can be the absolute worst.
It is a great pleasure to show you what love is
and teach myself what it means to be at another person's mercy.

Honesty, I've learned, doesn't like the light of day, so where do I begin?

"He smells like snuggles feel."

I'm sorry, my memory is failing me
and I've already lost so many words that should be yours.

When I try to speak of you all the comes to me are images of that face you make
when you're thinking of something amusing
and it makes the freight train between my brain and mouth come to a screeching halt.

"Jessica, why are you smiling at your pens?"

Can I tell you now that I nearly renounced music after my surgery?
How I had no need for symphonies?
Can I tell you how I stopped writing and how I nearly abandoned words?
How I longed for only silence.
And then, you.

And somehow, it actually wasn't weird.

It is always such a comfort when someone sees the real you and loves that person first.
There is never a need to hide your stripes or filter your thoughts around such a love.
It's pure, what we have.
It's beautiful and rare.
I consider us to be the lucky ones.

Can I tell you now how you moved me?
How seized gears began rotating once more?
Can I tell you how much it hurts to be brought back to life?
In our perfect balance of independence and soul smothering love
let me spend all my days growing old with you.

I love that I want you to change me.
I can't wait to change the way we feel about love together.
Change my eyes to see my future every time I look at you.
Change our personal goals to include you beside me for them.
Change my life into your life each and every day until our hair has turned to gray.

We're going to have an amazing life.

The rest of the insufferable shits can just watch.

Sheets And Sparks

 Guys, this past weekend was the closest I have been to crossing off several items on my Christmas list that I have ever been.

Laying underneath the stars in Northern Maine, I started this piece.  An actual blog post is coming, I promise, but right now I would just like to have something that's mine if that's okay with you. And if it's not, then please go where I'm not.

I sent it out into the ether
That I won't stand for mediocre love
I want it to make my knees buckle
Like they do looking into your eyes
I want love to swallow me up 
Like the arms of storm clouds
Keeping me safe
I want love to rinse me clean
To shock me
I spent four years refusing lackluster love
And the world brought me you
A brilliant wildfire
And now there is not a single part of everything you are
That I could live without
Water and air
Yada yada
I want love to be something both as thrilling 
As it is reassuring
I want to curl up with it in front of a fire
I want to lose track of time 
Because there is no hidden agenda in our phones
I want to make a new world in our sheets
One that no one else can see
I want our feet and bare skin brush against each other 
And feel my heart skip a beat
I want to feel at home in your arms
I want the taste of you atop my tongue 
While my wild hair graces your body
I want your bated breath
My arching back in your hands
Feeling every curve 
As gentle sparks set fire to everything that once mattered
I want to feel your love for me coursing through my veins
I want to be this awestruck by you forever
Banana pancakes and Sunday mornings
I want to love you in every way that you've prayed for
As I have you
In the way that I wrote about you 
Before you were here in front of me
I want a love we've been waiting our entire lives for
There are things in life best enjoyed in small doses
But this
My love
Is not one of them

~cynicallovebird

**I don't know if I feel like this is finished, but I'm publishing anyways.

Call Me George

This man was a shock to my system

What do you mean you want to respect me

How dare you be a considerate lover

And call me when you say you're going to

I don't know what to do with this

Amazing everything

The power of the pen

I wrote about him

Manifested a partner exactly like this

YEARS AGO

It's as if my Mr. Perfect delivery idea 

Has come to fruition in an alternate dimension 

And the idea of a Marvel comic multiverse 

Isn't too much of a stretch

Because he was created in a lab somewhere

I'm certain of it

I want this man to do borderline disrespectful things to me
Like 
Things that would land us in jail in some countries
Unspeakable things
So hard and dirty 
That it was such a thrill to the senses 
That we can't do anything
But lay there for hours after just breathing
So much so that we have no idea what planet we're on
That it'll take days to snap back to reality
And if anyone knew what we did to each other 
They would be so horrified and proud at the same time 
That all they could do is high five us
Things that I can't wait to describe out loud in public
With everyone watching us talking about it 
And thinking we've been together forever
But it's been less than a month 
And rather than talking about our white picket fence 
We're talking about the dungeon in the basement

I also want to let myself turn into the purring kitten

I feel myself become every time he looks at me

And have dome light dinner every Wednesday

And sing karaoke with my person 

Who makes the lyrics make sense

I want to make out in a room filled with people watching

Who think we're adorable together

I want to create content with context

So great that we change hearts and minds

And if I have to spend the rest of my life

Being honest with him

Then chop down my cherry tree

And call me George right now

Jessie Says

 I am a vixen
                                 Always
I love control
                              Power
But you
                                   Disarm me
I want to ravage you                    
                          But this new weakness 
                               Foreign
Exhilarating                  
                   Calming
Freeing                 
My hardness
                            Softened

The lioness is now a kitten

I made the decision to show you who I am.  And due to the above, you were such a shock to my system that I was only able to show you who I am when I am with you.

I took my power back and I made the decision to show you who I really am, sprinkled with a little of whom I would love to be.

It was the best.  The preparations made my soul tingle. I had put all of my special toys away, giving up on the idea of ever getting to play again. I don't usually enjoy secrets.  Yours are most definitely the exception, yet I'm certain that we've established this. It's nice to have something that's just ours. I never thought it would be something that I would ever get to have.

The game was Jessie Says.

Jessie says eat the dinner I made you.

Jessie says get in the shower and wash your ass and put on what I handed to you.

I let you choose your implements.

Experience.

Experiment.

Touch.

Taste.

Sound.

To be continued.....

I have to keep it sort of appropriate here.  My grandmother reads my smut.

                                 

Untitled

 I crave a gentle life.

I know what hell looks like already.  

More harsh lessons aren’t necessary.

Give me soft evenings, 

sweet as chocolate.

Nights worn like wool.

Let’s laugh till we’re in tears,

alongside those who make loving us look easy.

I want to breathe in the air of everywhere I once dreamt of making memories.

Though my hardships have shaped me,

in beautiful and painful ways that I will forever be grateful for.

I want my days to be full and affectionate.

I want to be formless,

someone who flows and moves without worry.

Some days I’m water.

Others, I’m lava.

Both are real.

Both are me.

All versions of me are honest and necessary.

Who I am is safe when respected.

I’d rather be a great friend to a few

than an acquaintance to many.

I’d rather be widely accepting

than widely accepted.

I want to be the one that others know it’s safe to turn to.

I want to be the person who I needed all those years ago.

There’s a softness within me that wasn’t always there.

It grew from heinous places.

Cold, callous, remorseful places.

My softness is my greatest strength.

To not be hardened by the very things meant to break you, that’s what I’m most proud of.

Home

 The truth is — genuine connection is ease. It is peace. When you find it you will know. You will feel seen, you will feel like you are being mirrored back to yourself, like you are discovering the shadow of your own heart in another human being.

Slowly, through loving the right people, you will come to realize that the human beings who are meant for you in this world will not exhaust you, or hollow you out, or leave you feeling like you are hard to love. Slowly, you will come to realize that you do not have to romanticize the things in this life that hurt. You do not have to run towards the fire. Love does not have to feel like a fight, does not have to feel like battle, does not have to wound.

Slowly, you will learn how to lay down your arms. How to walk away from those who will only ever love you in halves. Slowly, you will learn that you cannot love someone into loving you, or being ready, if they are not. You cannot love someone into their potential. You cannot close their hands around your heart if they are not willing to hold it themselves. You have to let them go. You have to focus on the people in your life who bring you back home to yourself. You have to focus on standing up for that kind of connection, on honoring that calm, because it exists. It exists.

And I hope you learn to trust that, because when you come across it, when you ultimately experience it, it feels as if you are standing at a door you finally have the keys for. You enter it with ease. There is no fumbling through your jacket pocket trying to find the right way in. There is no desperately reaching into your bag trying to uncover the point of access. You are no longer banging your fists against the door, asking to be invited in. You walk through. Soundlessly. Softly. Relief washes over you. You take off your shoes. You hang your coat in the closet. You put on a pot of coffee. You’re home. 

27 Orgasms

 I was minding my own business

Out with friends

The way that all spinsters are supposed to support each other on their birthday

Zero interest in dating, sex, or anything to do with a man

Who would turn out to just be another neanderthal 

Papier mâché walls up

It was the only way to be if I was to survive

And then you sat down

And your face turned into the sun when you looked at me

And I knew that the only appropriate thing to do would be to kiss it

"I like your face.  I'd like to see more of it."

Apparently my lack of the ability to effectively flirt actually worked this time

I've never been so allowed to be myself

Permission withheld only by myself of course

I was fine with avoiding

I think you have a magnet inside you 

Or something I can't quite put my finger on

But I don't know if I want to know

It's something that can only be brought to the world by the eclipse

Stop thinking and just do dummy

My papier mâché walls 

Crumbled

You threw all my past lovers into my hot chocolate moat to distract the piranhas' 

Who knew they were conspiring to build a bridge for you out of their bones

Fuckers

Your body is the only one I want to feel ever again

We are so much alike that it scares the shit out of me 

In a place nobody has bothered to scratch

You do something to me that I can't explain

The line from my favorite song

It never made sense until now

But I do know

That if my weekends continue to consist of Sunday mornings

And 27 orgasms

You my best friend

Aren't going anywhere

That Thing You Can't Throw Away

When it comes to living in your world

If I could be one thing other than 

What I am right now

I want to be a little Post-it that has 

Something as dorky as

"I love you"

Scribbled on it.

You're brand new to my world

But that old, odd, drunk cat lady that lives 

In the back of my brain won't stop shouting

"Fuck.  We really like this one"

I want to always be randomly left 

Where you'll come across it

When the day isn't going your way

Or when your heart is defeated

When the moon is shining 

Brighter than the sun

I want to be the memory 

Of a perfect moment where

Nothing in the world mattered 

But learning who about who we are 

And loving each other more

Than the rest of those insufferable shits

~cynicallovebird 

The Dating (ces) Pool

I'm starting to think that the Lord is testing me, and I didn't study.

So.....in other news, I'm single. Still. I know, I know.  You're clutching your pearls in shock and awe.

No, don't ask me to explain. The important people that need to know (and have tirelessly listened to my nonsense) already know all about it, edited of course.  On here, I don't hold back so much.  But some of it is for another time.

I have attempted to cast my net into the dating pool again.  I think it might have been too wide of a cast this time, and I didn't even mean to do it.  Or maybe like I do with everything else; I have just blindly flung myself "out there" and I pretty sure that I am just going to meet up with a school of piranhas.  But cool ones, if that makes sense. Like instead of consuming me, they are awesome, and I like them.  All of them. And my brain is just coming to the same conclusion every time I have a chance to stop "powering through" and realize what the F.U.C.K. I have done, and then I'm back to being alone because I can't handle talking to multiple people at once.  I truly do not have a clue how people do it, especially cheaters with a person in every town.  I have been skimming through profiles and many of them are the same that I saw back in 2020 when I was looking last time. It's icky feeling. I have noticed a marked difference from the last time I made the attempt though. 

Not by any stretch of the imagination is dating fun for me.  

At the same time, the only thing that I have ever wanted more than anything, is to be a wife.  

And this last time that I tried to date, without going into details because, well frankly I'll just break my own heart all over again merely talking about it, cemented that.  I know that I have this weird demon inside of me that I've always had that is impulsive and dirty and needed to fuck whatever is in front of me just to get something scratching at the back of my brain to shut the fuck up; but at least I'm honest about it being there.  I wasn't always. If you were to go back in time and talk to the me that was ten years ago, there was some odd primordial need to not be alone. I couldn't really explain it, I just couldn't sit still in my own skin. 

I have done the work that I need to do in order to heal my shit. I have had the same counselor since 2016, and we have done more digging than they did trying to uncover the Sphynx. I have been alone for 4 years and can count the number of dates that I've had since on one hand, because it was much easier than anything else that I've had to deal with. I don't want to get to know anybody new, people fucking suck.  Especially the ones that make me feel something but end things in such a way that was proof that they were just lying to my face the whole time. Or at least it felt that way.  The bottom line is that I deserved better, whether I believed it at the time or not. Perhaps some things on my half of the relationship could have been better, but I definitely didn't deserve to experience the abuse that I did. I want to be with the same person forever and that's it.  I think the real issue, is that they have seriously underestimated my willingness to die alone. Or maybe it's that I am so fine with it that I don't know how to open up, until this last time. 

And every millisecond of our time together was everything that I ever wanted.

That son of a bitch, walked into my life while I was minding my own business, completing not intending for him to be there. Maybe there wasn't a spark. Who knows.  What I do know, is that the spark turned into a mother fucking forest fire and before I knew it, I was a national park in drought season. I am not going to wish for him to reappear. Not too hard, anyways.  I tell myself I will only allow myself to be sad once a day. There are 24 hours in a day.  If you don't stop being sad, it is only once. Leave it to my Irish roots to find a loophole to that one. I like air more than I like being sad, so I won't hold my breath. Much.

I'm reopening some wounds by writing this. I mean, not literally, though I guess it wouldn't be atypical. I have always had a tendency to pick at scabs. Something in me has definitely shifted. I hope for the better. Scar tissue builds character, right?

Messy

I'm not the girl who gets picked
I'm not the girl you spend the rest of your life with
and I accept it as fact 

before you even say the first hello
but I am the girl who makes you want to change
who you reflect upon who you were 

who you have been 

and who you want to be

for someone else
I am the girl who five years from now 
you will look at your daughters and pray 
that nobody ever hurts them the way you hurt me 
on purpose
because my life is too messy to fit into yours

or so you say

you were never here for any of the messy parts

so how would you dare say that you know 

maybe I just needed you to show up unannounced

Hersheys with almonds in one hand 

and your heart in the other

the perfect equation 

where you meet my vulnerability

I keep hidden away under the guise of strength

behind papier mâché walls

and my hot chocolate moat filled with piranhas
maybe I just say 

I'm the girl who loves you when you're broken 

before you find your forever kind

while wishing it was me
the one you take all your anger out on 
so your real lover doesn't cry themselves to sleep

while I do

maybe I don't need a knight in shining armor

maybe I wanted you

the jackass in a tinfoil hat
the one you always want to kiss 
but only in private
I'm too much to explain
I don't care about being chosen anymore
not by you
the one you care for
but just don't love enough
to pick
I have to mourn you without wishing you will come back
and I've made peace with the fact that you won't
but a small part of me wishes 
that you miss the way that my head felt on your shoulder
how it always felt so perfect like it was molded just for me
I know you don't
but that messy, lonely
really fucked up part of me 

wishes for 9pm mozzarella sticks and The Labyrinth

in bed just the same

you won't call me when your broken-hearted daughter

is crying after being treated the same way you treated me

and I don't know if I would want you to

but I am sad that I won't get to wipe her tears

in solidarity

you'll always be the man with an empty plate of promises

and I the girl who chooses herself over all them

An Update For the Bored, From the Boring - Amended

As a kid, while all of my friends were dreaming of The New Kids on the Block, Christian Slater and Skeet Ulrich, I was hopelessly in love with Debbie Gibson, Indiana Jones, He-Man, Weird Al and the entire cast of The Goonies. So, when I attempted to manifest their existence into fruition at the age of 15 after watching The Craft with my besties for the millionth time, I had no idea what was going to show up, but if you're anything like me, you know that I just threw the wishes out into the ether and expected it to actually work. GUYS, I think I have met a person who is all of them rolled into the same person. It's hard to describe, not physically of course, more like how they make me feel....as good as I am at descriptions you would think I'd be better at this one. And just like that, it's all that I am going to say about it. For now.

Head to toe goosebumps coupled with heart skipping beats popped up in case you needed a visual representation of what thinking of them does to me. I wouldn't have the blog name Cynicallovebird if I didn't acknowledge that it is reminiscent of a panic attack. 

Anyways, the above information is not what I came here to do. 

Ah, who am I kidding. Of course, it's all I want to do.  But I'm not going to, because self-preservation, too much too soon, past history, crushed dreams, and all that entails. I haven't even dubbed him with a nickname yet to be able to write about him (or have I?). 

Read first ever blog post to get the reference.

If you know me at all, it's that avoidance at all costs, including my sanity, when things are getting heavy in my world is my superpower. I haven't given much for updates, so I thought it was time, because while I am dictating a lot into my sticky note app and creating draft after draft when I need to get some energy out, I don't feel like I have anything to actually say until I can talk about life for a second.

Health: 

Let see, for me there's a lot of upsides. Last year I put my foot down and made my provider send a referral to be tested for ADHD. Everything about going back to college was reminding me of how much I struggled as kid in school.  Holy crap, the medication that I have been on is a life-changer. I was getting to the point where I was so worried I would be broken forever. Just like in normal Jessica fashion, I nonchalantly messaged my doctor that it was time for me to see a specialist because I noticed some changes, expecting that it was natural stuff for the over 40. Saw the specialist, it was definitely not normal, had a couple of biopsies and got scary news that I was not going to spend the remaining time that I have on this planet worrying about, so I had all of my lady parts removed in May.  My body no longer feels like it's in a constant battle to stay alive.  I have lost 18 pounds just existing. I finally got the clear to exercise and do all the fun adult things. I have started with walking without pushing myself.  So far so good. I did the fun adult things. It was nice to know that the part of my brain that had zero interest was just saving it for a time that was worthy. Oh boy was it ever. Smoke a cigarette in my honor if you do, because I don't and I feel like I could use one. It was also a reminder that it's time for yoga again, I was not nearly as bendy, mostly thanks to me spending hours on end scrunched up like a bog troll at the computer working/learning/writing. Later today, I am going to push myself a little, but I feel like I'll be able to handle it. I'll do it later this afternoon, so I don't waste my entire day sleeping if my SLE decides to flair.

Family:

I vented what I needed to vent to whom it needed to go to.  My parents are both newly engaged to good people that my six-year-old self wishes they had found a little sooner, but we all have a journey. I've been spending a lot of time in Deer Isle and learning things about my family that I wish I knew sooner, in a good way - it's nice to know where I got my love of dinner parties and fancy things came from.

Kids:

If you pay attention to the ticktock reels of parents of Neurospicy kids, just know that it is so much worse. Having a child, that is now an adult, that you are in a constant battle to keep alive does things. Nothing I can say out loud to someone who has zero experience with.  Just know that if I do come to you when I can't take it anymore, I am giving you the "crystal lite" version. I don't need advice from someone with no experience. I can't "just" anything. There are days where my entire well-being depends on how they are doing and I am so, so tired. Therefore, I leave this conversation to the paid professionals.

Work

I truly have found the thing that I was meant to do, and I want to keep doing it forever. I get to spend my day being happy for complete strangers all day long. In the 6 weeks that I was out on medical leave, every time I woke up, whether it was in the morning or after a nap, I woke thinking it was time to get ready for work.

Home:

It feels like every time I turn around something in this apartment building is breaking. Starting Monday, I get to stay at a hotel until Lordt only knows when because the main sewer line from the house to the street has collapsed somewhere along it. I can still come home to get food, clothes and do homework at my computer, and I'll be right up the road, but Jesus Murphy I would give anything for a normal day. I have the big bedroom for once in my life.  I have an area for both a vanity and an office. My son moved out and I have been working on setting up the extra room as a reading/craft/crap room. I got my great grandpa's sign hung.  Of course, said Neurospicy first child had to have something to say about it not being where she wanted it. It just feels like I'm spending my time doing a constant facepalm.

Dating:

I said what I said above and I would be lying if I said that my brain isn't doing cartwheels.  I also deleted my Facebook dating profile. I had deleted all of them for a bit, then one evening I decided that it would be a great idea. **Thanks, post-surgical Dilaudid haze for that.** I hope that "above mentioned person" doesn't think that I did it because I'm insane and it had anything at all to do with meeting them there. There was a lot of careful consideration put into it that is a post for another time. A long time ago, I decided to add being partnered on the shelf as something that was a "nice to have", rather than something that I needed in order to be happy. That shelf is getting pretty crowded. Again, a post for another time.

True story: The words "I would rather set myself on fire and put it out on a floor covered in Legos before I try to date again.  It would hurt less." were spoken, out loud, in conversation with my best friend, and less than 10 seconds later, "DING".  I get a message from above mentioned Mr. on Instagram. Yes, he matched with me on FB dating (for the second time, long story), and then followed my profile to Insta and messaged me there. I have to say, effort is enticing.

Overall, I have stopped doing all the things that once held me together, and things were messy for a long time, but I like the version I am now even more.

I'm sure that there is more that I am missing, but if you're at the end, "Thanks for noticing", as Eeyore would say. As always, open to questions and conversations.  Be good to each other.

***So it turns out that while this person may be amazing, they "didn't feel a spark" - after seeing me twice and talking about themselves the entire time they were together, naturally I like him.  He barely let me get a word in and didn't have the emotional intelligence to be honest with me about their concerns and sit down and talk to me about it.  They're wrong, but what can I do to control that if they are going to quit before they even try? And I reactivated my dating profile and will give it energy when I find the time. Which of course will be never.  \

Still waiting on that Mr. Perfect delivery service. It's whatever. 

Not Today

 One day, I'll finally wake up and walk through the world like it isn't my job to hold it up.

Today isn't it.

One day, I'll finally be able to be happy to see my sister's loud and proud posts all about how amazing everyone else on the planet is without a single mention of my existence.

Today isn't it.

One day, I'll finally be excited to do something for others and I'm not ignoring something important in my life that is going to bring me to the breaking point because I'm not taking care of it instead.

Today isn't it.

One day, someone will drop everything and show up.

Today isn't it.

One day, I'm not going to feel the air sucked out of the room when my child is struggling.

Today isn't it.

One day, I'm going to be excited about dating someone whose effort matches mine.

Today isn't it.

One day, I'm going to make batches of delicious jam and not feel the sting of the lesson of The Little Red Hen.

Today isn't it.

Today just isn't it.  

But it will be.

Grief, But Make It Pinterest Friendly For The PTA Moms

A former love interest once told me about how his cousins that I went to school with were so wild and crazy as teenagers, that their parents had a suicide pact.  I laughed it off.

My aunt, on the day that her only child graduated high school, I found nearly catatonic sitting on her bed in her underwear with her dress in her hands when I came to pick her up.  I laughed it off.

I am no longer laughing.

Grieving isn't just a physical death of a person; it's change in its entirety; your own expectations of how something should be.  I can't force someone to love me the way that I wish they would.  I can't make someone treat me like I am a person worth getting to know.  Everything that I ever dreamed of for a life for my children may never happen.  

When you're a parent of a child who is different, the world looks very different than it did before you were.  

If you met me in my 20's and when my children were little at all and think that it's an entire picture of who I am as a person you couldn't be more wrong.  I wanted to die.  Not in the literal sense of jumping off a bridge, although there were definitely moments; it was more of a.....

I need help that I've been told never to ask for, nobody is helping me navigate life, I have been thrown out into the world to figure it out entirely on my own and I have no idea what the fuck I am doing, constant free-falling state of chaos and panic.

There was nothing about my life that I enjoyed.  I wish that someone would appreciate the fact that every day that I wake up, is a day that my 14-year-old self never planned on having.  I was reckless, and careless, because honestly, I truly wished that something would kill me.  I didn't dream that I would be a mom before I even had a savings account, let alone two children with extreme needs.  I definitely did not dream that I would be doing it completely alone.  When I turned 30 and suddenly started having all sorts of medical trauma that was terrifying, again, I was left to deal with it alone.  The first 35 years of my life felt like a long, dark, cavernous hallway searching for something that was always eluding me.  I have always been the outsider, even to my own life.  Growing up in the household of my mother, all of my decisions were made for me, and I was always told, rather than taught.  Expected of, rather than heard.  I have been so lonely.

Even as a child, I resigned myself to being the one who heard about everyone's birthday parties rather than the one who got to attend.  The one who got to be happy for everyone else, but from the sidelines, never to participate or be included.  Forever the single girl that everyone talked about behind their back, kind to my face but heeding warnings to everyone who would listen that they needed to watch out for me because obviously since I'm single, I must be after their partner.  It could never have possible had anything to do with the fact that I believe in treating everyone with respect.  The quiet one, who doesn't gossip about other people, but again, is gossiped about by people that have nothing to do with me.  I have always been the one watching the weddings, the baby showers, birthday parties, get togethers for drinks and cards, major life-events that I would have given anything to be there for.  How shitty of a person do you have to be to deserve something like this? 

I guess I have been destined to have a life full of acquaintances, who will see my obituary, and say "Wow, she was a really nice person", but not anybody can say that they actually know who I am.  If I'm being realistic, there isn't going to be an obituary unless I write it myself. I love every single person that I know, but I don't know how to get close to anybody.  If I was even given a chance for any amount of participation, I would give 150% of myself to you.  But nobody knows that.

I have lived the past 22 years of my life in this weird glass cage of emotion, switching back and forth between having to act like Mary Poppins and The Hulk.

There were the occasional playdates and sleepovers, but they would never be invited back. I had to work to make ends meet, they didn't like the daycare that was my only option. It's impossible to connect with other humans when you're stuck in survival mode.  Isolation was my only safe choice.

I just "knew" once my kids were older, I would have all sorts of time.  I'd be able to whatever I wanted completely uninterrupted.  I'd be way more rested because I wouldn't have to lay awake all night long worrying about the never-ending checklist of making sure that I had the right food in the house for my picky eaters, emails back and forth with teachers making sure IEPs were followed, money, bills.  I didn't have other moms my own age with kids.

Nah, they were just traded for the never-ending highlight reel of everything I have ever done wrong as a parent. I still end every day feeling as if I had just gone toe to toe in a boxing ring just trying my best to make sure they're still alive. 

There was so much available time in my delusional future. Now when they want to spend any amount of time with me, I find myself terrified to move a muscle or make a peep exactly like when I finally got them to sleep like when they were babies because I don't want the moment to end.

I did my due diligence yesterday; counseling, journaling, commiserating with those who "understand" but still came out feeling empty through no fault of theirs.  This period of my life is supposed to be mine now, but nobody has ever loved them like I do and therefore no one can possibly understand what I am feeling right now. 

No one....

In the history of the world....

Ever.

I am neither the mean kid or the bug, and there was never windshield nor magnifying glass involved, yet I still feel like my heart has been squished just the same. 

I didn't know how to be present for my own children while I was busy wishing someone else would take over. 

As I write this, both of my children are the same ages in which I had them; my son is 19, the age that I had my daughter and my daughter, 22, is the same age that I had my son.  I don't know what the fuck I am doing.  For 22 years.  All I know is that I have spent this time desperately holding this umbrella over them and praying that they have no idea what it feels like to have nothing.  I have wanted nothing more than for them to find their way in their own time.

Alas, there is a better chance of me becoming the next Supreme Leader of North Korea than there is of me getting my children to maintain baseline human function on their own.

I have hit a wall. 

My son has made it known that despite the fact that he has no money of his own, no job, nowhere to go, and zero life skills, he intends to leave on the date of the ultimatum that I have been forced to give him.  

The ultimatum, given in February:  

By April 1st, you need to step up and start helping me around here without an argument and making me want to kill myself.  If you don't want to do that, then you need to find a job and start paying for one third of the monthly household expenses and you get to do whatever the H.E. Double Hockey sticks you want.  Or, get the fuck out of my house.

I have given him all that I can in the name of "understanding", but I have watched him go down a spiraling rabbit hole of being an entitled douchebag - who is an adult now.  Nothing, nothing, prepares you for watching your child, my baby, fall apart in front of your face. Gone are the days of therapy and med adjustments to help manage his multiple mood disorders that he has been diagnosed with multiple times over; he has decided that I am the mortal enemy who ruined his life because I got him the help that he needed while I still had a (legal) say in his care. He refuses to do anything around the house without breaking me down in such a way that I would give anything to be swallowed up by a sinkhole where I stand in my own home.  I am all done paying to be abused in ways that I would never tolerate from someone that I was dating, yet I have endured this from my own child since they were a toddler with no outlook of it ever changing or getting better.

I have cried until there are no more tears.  Dry heaving and sobbing in my car and bedroom, alone, until I'm gasping for my next breath. Stared at this computer screen trying to think of the next thing to say until my eyes want to fall out of my head because I forgot to blink.

The more I look for someone who understands that more I realize that this grief is something that I must do alone.  That is, after all, what grief is about anyways, right? I don't want to be a downer, but I want you to understand that even though what I am going through (not around, or under or over, despite my best effort for avoidance) is the worst possible thing a human can endure and that they/we must do it uniquely and as individuals but there are many who have done it before and came out the other side intact. All that means, is that something within the Universe, God, fate, inertia, etc., has a plan through which I will endure this present darkness and I will hold hands with whatever is with me while I mine through more than it is possible to describe. 

I will always be pushing a river that should be flowing by itself, with radical acceptance that I am wet.

Done With You

Sitting in a corner playing with my monkeys
All is dark
There used to be a light
It was stolen
I was raped of all necessities
Love doesn't exist anymore
Never will know if it ever existed
Left with all this pain
Feelings of your pleasures rip through my walls 

Like glass on flesh
I'm here with open wounds
Identity pouring through
Have to hide it
Can't give in
Don't touch me 
Don't give me the happiness
Leave me with my pain
My only friend who never betrays me
Pour me that drink again
The one that tells me with every gulp 
That the only one who ever needed me worse than heroine 

Was you
You're the only one who cares
Oh wait
In my confused state
I have seemed to have forgotten 
That since your beverage runs through my system so fast
It leaves me with a terrible discomfort in the pit of my stomach
Hand me a Rolaid instead

I found this poem that I wrote when I was cleaning my room this past weekend. I vaguely recall the notepad I scratched it out on being in my purse that I used whenever I would go to Mr. Invader of WhatTheFuckLandia's house, circa 2017. I wrote it as a bit of a cleansing - kind of an odd thing, finding something that occurred during a cleansing, while performing another cleansing. I would always feel so empty when I was with him, and I could never place my finger on why. At that time, anyways. I completely understand why now. I used to get the same rush and subsequent crash when I would randomly touch base with him, and now that I live in the same town, ten houses down the road from where he works to be exact, I just have no energy left for him anymore. I feel really good about that.