From 12484 km away I can feel the hope. The way it radiates out between the pixels and the filters chosen to frame it. It takes courage to go against the grain. To go against what you have been taught. What you have been forced to think, do, and behave. I can see the happiness in both sets of eyes. The relief of being reunited that reinforces that the decision made was a good one. How do you stay connected when you are separated by oceans. What fuels the choice to abandon everything you know and leave your continent for his. I suppose it’s the hope that I can see and feel even though I am 12484 km away.

Generally the fear keeps it in check. The fear of going back to the dark. Yet sometimes I can feel it crawling back. The sickness seeping into my brain. It drips down my neck. It nestles into my shoulder. It get’s lost in the monotony of everyday. Wake, shower, eat, commute, work, eat, text, commute, write, sleep. It’s harder to wake. It’s harder to shower. I often feel selfish. I should not feel so derailed. Yet I do and the guilt is revived  You make plans and decisions which alter your hopes and your dreams. Everyone does this because your dreams must be compatible with your hopes. Innocence is trumped by reality. You forfeit your dreams to fulfill your hopes. What happens when you are faced with not achieving your hope? Such a hope that I thought I was entitled to. It was so simple. Everybody has it. The white picket fence. It’s not so simple. I ache for it. I risk everything for it. I am hurt and broken but I keep licking my wounds and going back for more. Yet I’m not sure why I do. I don’t get anything from it, other then the hurt. I can not control it.  Alone yet together. Alone and Alone. It’s always there regardless of the configuration. What if I didn’t want it. Instead I sacrificed the hope for the dream. Would I have the dream and no hope? Or the same as now, no dream and no hope.

The night before I dreamt of you. My mind so desperately trying to finish processing us. Trying to file away the warmth, smiles, and hope. Trying to digest the abandon, loneliness, and hurt. Deep thoughts and lofty ideals.  Amidst the unconscious recesses I felt your touch as you held me tight. I breath you in so deep trying to replenish the fading memory. I kept trying to grab your hand. It kept slipping away. You kept slipping away. We kept slipping away. With a quiver i’m back in the now. Back in the safety of my quilt watching the sunshine creep in. I reach over to feel your touch. But there is nothing there but blankets and sunshine. 

I sit with the girls on a king size bed, drinking wine from hotel mugs. Truth, laughter and comfort come from nights like these. Were amongst the eyelashes, lipstick, and heels we pour out our hearts and laugh until the tears stream down our cheeks. The best relationships come from friendships. You already have that base and that sense of who they are. Truth. That’s the worse part of dating. Those awkward moments were you try to build that base with strangers yet all I desperately want is to skip through the preliminaries. My Ancient women tells me this is going to happen. Confusion.  I can’t say I have never thought about it. Well not at least for a long while. Maybe because it could be a good fit. Maybe because i’m scared to have someone give themselves to me as much as I would to them. My black heart has been pretty bruised lately. It no longer lives in hurt but rather echoes the sentiments of The Lumineers The opposite of love is indifference. Yet how do I know that there is an opportunity for more. Uncertainty. What if I throw the dice of the wise women’s prophecy only to be shot down? This could very well happen. Worse then risk with a stranger because you can never go back to what you had. The stakes are higher. There is so much more to loose. Similar. Sometimes I feel like we have lived our lives parallel to each-other. Others are scared to be with us for fear they will break us. We are not so fragile you and I. Yet…. I can’t help wonder if I too might break you. As I have broken other’s in the past. I don’t like that we are treated as if we are pieces of a glass menagerie. Could the ancient women be right? Are we approaching a point were we will intersect?



CandyLand and Mario Cart used to rule my world. Back then I enjoyed the game. In youthful bliss many hours were spent giving myself to the moment. My competitiveness bursting through. From a young age we are conditioned for the game. I was good at Candyland. I was even better a Mario Cart. If I lost, frustration rushed up and down my body heating my ears and causing me to clench my fists. But it was o.k. if I lost I would just try again. As I got older there were still games. Yet try as I might I was never good at any of them. The stakes were higher. When I lost the frustration was till there but the sadness that also occurred was palatable  Weighing hard my chest. I still gave all of myself. Perhaps that was the problem. The game is always to leave them wanting more. If they have all of you they have already won and it’s on to the next. Yet they always return. Once they realize that the next is not you. That game makes me sick. For now I think I can play for awhile. They can be the ones to give everything and try.



Sometimes I can’t sleep. I was once told it was because someone was thinking about me. My dreams and my nightmares are often consumed by you. I wonder how much sleep you get and if I to am keeping you awake at night. I’m sorry if my selfish contemplation keep you from rem. As I wonder if it is you that keeps me cognizant as well. If so i’m always up waiting for you. I will sleep to come. I will stop thinking of you if you stop thinking of me. Deal?



It’s hard not to feel broken by another. It’s easier to cower back and take a break in the shadows.

No I disagree he says. With warm eyes and between quick puffs on his marlboro lights, the wisdom pours out. I’v been rejected many times. I’v also rejected others many of times. That’s just the way it is. I am confident in who I am and what I have to offer. 

Another drag from his cigarette. This one longer and more thoughtful. In and then out. It’s better to take the risk then to live in regret. 

To live in regret. I choke on the words like the puff’s of smoke that rushes my lungs. I suppose those are the shadows that I have made my home in recently.

Why do you care what a stranger thinks of you? I’v never regret any relationship i’v been in he muses. The rejection doesn’t bother me because it really doesn’t matter. 

His wisdom lingers like his cigarette smoke on my cardigan.  As I chew on his assertions slowly like a mento’s who’s taste is both shocking and comforting at the same time.

It has been a long while since I have been lost in the moment. I forgot how much I missed it. This weekend has been a series of amazing cascading moments. Meeting new people at an old haunt. Managing to grab a taxi on the FIRST try in the heart of Vancouver. Going to a new place with old friends. Trying new beers and laughing so hard it became a cackle. Nestling in at home and reuniting with an old friend. Were we talked long into the night. Waking up to sunshine and spending the morning paddling out in the crisp air encased by mountains and light. My little black heart is swelled up with happiness. 

I never really felt that I fit in there. My stress level always resided on the higher end no matter what. It was as if I was holding my breath for five years.

It’s troubling to feel like you still do not know anything even as the years slip away.

Just

keep

holding

it…

Hindsight is always twenty twenty and now looking back I wonder how I did not rescue my soul sooner. How I let it lay there hurt and shackled. 

It’s interesting how the fear of variation, the fear of something fresh, the fear of the strange, the fear of consequence creates four thick walls around us.

Just

keep

holding

it….

It’s easier to stay behind the walls then to figure a way out. Just keep ‘yer head down and trudge on….

I always wish that I had the ability to make a change before things become to insufferable.Inevitably you reach your breaking pointas you question, “WHAT AM I DOING!”

I

CANT

keep

holding

it…

It is at this point when something clicks and the courage to move on has come. It rushes in fast and quick propelling you forward. 

With my head down in the cage of darkness I fumbled around desperate for a way out. Struggling. Apprehensive. Fearful.

I

CANT

keep

holding

it…

It wasn’t until I finally looked up did I realize that I could make my escape. Light bulb moment. Once you take your blinders off change is imminent. Aspire. Hopeful. Content.

It’s comforting to find a place were you feel like you fit. Nothing is forced. Your hard work instead slides you smoothly as you fill the missing piece.

And

Exhale.

 What a rush a breath of fresh air feels like.

It’s an anomalous feeling when you finally get something that you want and it changes your life for the better. Yet you are still not satisfied.

How the loneliness creeps in demanding even more.

The achievement begins to drown and the selfishness rushes in. It’s thick and heavy and unrelenting with it’s demands.

Practice makes habit I was once told. So in my head I practice the idea of being alone.

I cultivate loneliness. 

I used to try to push through in an attempt to protect my black heart. And then sometimes I would let it rush over me consuming my mind. 

It feels like a slow bleed that is not within my control.

There were the two that got away. They flood my memory when the loneliness is tragically palpable. 

From an arms length I can still smell your cologne and see your sad eyes and my heart pleads so hard that you would come back to me and tuck me in. But you left me.

Then there is a whole other world of regret. This debate in my mind were I wish I could have made thing’s work with you. I wish I could feel the same spark that you felt. But I left you.

Instead here I am, just me, practicing the art of cultivating loneliness.