Letting Go…

I’ve had my fair share of grudges.

Hell, to be honest, sometimes those misgivings are STILL much closer to my heart than I like to admit (both to myself and to others).

Yes. Sometimes, in the midst of my free-loving attitude, I frolic straight into the briar patch of insecurity, fear-based behaviors, and melancholy.

Now, not unlike in an actual briar patch, I sure am protected here—well, at least if I’m metaphorically a rabbit or other small rodent…


This is a safe place for the following reasons:

  • I am essentially untouchable: I am surrounded by the thorns of those who have hurt me in the past, which, in turn, will hurt anyone else who attempts to reach out or come too close.
  • This is an excellent opportunity for me to feel super high and mighty (despite the fact that I’m essentially huddled in some thorny bushes, all wide-eyed and quivery and shit) because I have successfully evaded whatever was making me feel vulnerable.

However, it’s called UNDERGROWTH for a reason, my friends.

Hahahahaha *wipes away a tear* Aaaaaaaand this blog is done.

Okay okay. I’m kidding. It’s not done (although, that may be the high point).

I know a lot of people define themselves by the hardships that they’ve lived through. This is what makes a person “tough” or “a survivor”, which are qualities that we value in our culture. You want someone who has experienced adversity because; A.) They are better prepared to deal with adversity associated with you; and, B.) They will be more understanding of the fact that you, too, have issues associated with your past. However, too much toughness makes for shells and walls and emotional blockades. And no one really wants to be with someone who is unwilling or unable to be vulnerable. It begets a lack of mutual trust, which is the cornerstone of any meaningful relationship, romantic or not.

On the other side of the coin, though, you want to avoid someone who is too “damaged” because… well… victims are going to be victims until they decide they are no longer victims. No one wants to be a villain to someone that they love. But, a victim needs a villain. That’s just how it works.

So, how does one find that balance between too tough and too tender—what I like to call self-sustainability? How can I avoid warding off goodness with the stacked carcasses of my vanquished foes, in a dramatic “YE WHO COME HERE SHALL PERISH” flourish, whilst also maintaining my cellular composure to remain in a non pool-of-mush state?

Well, if I’m being completely honest, I haven’t a fucking clue.


I am trying some things, in theory and imperfectly, in order to open up a bit more to genuine relationships.

Letting go of illusions of control – This one’s funny because I’m a complete control freak. I know I am. I also know that I have little to no control that extends beyond my person. So, I am working on letting go of micromanaging the aspects of my life that are free-flowing, such as my relationships with other individuals. This allows me to work on…

Letting go of distrust – If you are my friend, and you tell me something, I am going to believe you. I am going to trust you. At least until you fuck it up. Please don’t fuck it up. Thanks.

Letting go of pain – As I mentioned before, we’ve all been through some shit. The hurt you feel is relative to the pain you’ve experienced, right? The whole deadening your nerves over time” bit? The whole tortured soul bit? Well, personally, I’m guilty of this. I get all sad hulk* all the time. BUT, I recognize now that I don’t want my pain to define me. I want it to just be a memory. So, I’m working on letting it go, which means I also have to…

Let go of fear – All those people who did bad things to me? They’re all gone. They’re not coming back. You are not them. Blah blah blah. I get it. But it’s still scary to think of letting someone into a position in which they could come at me, bro. So I’m not good at it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be good at it. But I am trying. I am learning to trust my own judgement again, which helps with the irrationality. Which, IN TURN, MAKES IT EASIER TOOOOOOOO…

Let go of past mistakes – Yes, you were really dumb. Super dumb. But now you are slightly less dumb…

*unless you are insane, in which case… keep on trying!*

Forgive yourself. You have to, in order to move on. Living in regret won’t help you, and really, it’s self-righteous. “Ohhhhhh my mistakes were sooooooo biiiiig I neeeever deserve haaaaappinesssss” Yeah. You sound like a jackass. It’s okay, though. I sound like that a lot of the time, too.

I guess this is where they say, “Trust the process”.

*Sad Hulk is a marvel-spun spoof with a tendency to “Hulk-Out” with sadness. Usually involves binge eating ice cream, bouts of indestructible existential depression, and earth-shattering crying jags. “YOU WOULDN’T LIKE ME WHEN I’M DEPRESSED”


Last night, I had a reverie.

Truly alone,

I knew it a dream.

My empty planet

floating through darkness

bouncing off other planets

like tidy glass globes.

These are not the collisions I know.

Of shattered celebration

disastrous confetti

Passionate messes


In this pristine globe, I floated through space



Small taps against other celestial bodies.






And I gazed in wonder


The sights branded into my mind

only to heal


and fade and fog

until they, too, were just a dream.

And in my float

I flew amongst others.

They were there, too, I swore

I saw them in the distance.

Sometimes closer

Sometimes together.

with me, for a while

before moving on

in our separate floating bubbles

And they could see what I see

And I knew it wasn’t a dream

Because I wasn’t alone

I knew recognition

but not touch.

To touch would be to shatter

our neat, solitary spheres

and to die


losing breath

to the void


when nothing can fill.

To My Rapscallion Heart

Yes, you aren’t very bright. Right now you feel anguished and foolish and a lot of -ish, in general.

Luckily for you, damned heart, I don’t keep you around for your analytic abilities. That’s what the brain is for. You don’t need to be witty, or snarky, or distrustful. You just need to keep me honest. Connected. Pumping blood to my extremities. Warm.

Hindsight is a swift kick to the groin, fair heart–Sometimes with an additional twist… maybe some stabbing sensations… *Pfft* You don’t need your reproductive organs anyway.

It’s okay to drop to your knees, tearful eyes raised to the heavens in lament.  To curl up, as dense and tiny as possible. To build up the energy to explode forth, taking no prisoners. You do you, heart. Feel the fuck out of things.

Love is pain. Love is bullshit.

Love is a lot of things.

but… for you…

Love is also an adventure. A late-night, drunken romp through the wilderness. Sure, you may wake to bumps and bruises and confusion, but… You really had a blast. The ill-effects are temporary, and it will make for an excellent story.

Love is an inside joke. Sideways glances, and lip twitches, and muffled giggles. Obscure innuendos, smirks, and arousing suspicion in those who aren’t in on it. Unashamed, but subtle, as you don’t have the desire or need to justify it to anyone. Fuck them.

Yes, Rapscallion Heart. The brain and I may roll our eyes. We may think you’re crazy, and a tad lacking in the sensibility department, but without you, life would be simply lackluster.

So, you do you.

Revisited: How to Love a Girl Who Don’t Give a Shit


She totally does give a shit.

Of course she does.

But, for one reason or another, she has decided to not live life held hostage to the idea that happiness is found behind a man (or woman) who will hold her hand for the rest of her life.

She’s intolerant of the games often associated with dating and relationships in today’s society.

She values sincere and honest relationships over romance and sentiment. She is not fickle with her heart and mind, despite having freed herself from the muddles of social expectation. Her interests do not flit from person to person or lack in intensity, despite her laid-back and open persona.

She will be upfront about her feelings and goals because she refuses to waste her own time, or yours. She doesn’t mind being alone, as she realizes that her relationship with herself is the only definite. She is capable of self-managing her emotions and insecurities, but will still share them with you. She doesn’t require validation (even though she still appreciates it).

She’s disinterested in emotional strife and struggle. While she recognizes that worthwhile relationships take work and effort, if she can’t get what she needs in her current situation, she will move on. She knows that life is too short to be constantly battling, and that there is a distinct line between compromise and martyrdom (and no one needs a martyr, these days).

So, how do you love a woman who doesn’t need you, but wants you?

Do you become insecure about that fact that she chooses to be with you out of her own personal fulfillment, rather than because she fears to live without you? Do you question your worth if she desires your time because you supplement her life, rather than complete it?

Well, hopefully not.

You love her openly, honestly, and without trepidation. You appreciate what you have, while you have it, recognizing that it will last as long as you both are happy.

Because, really, what’s the point of doing otherwise?

Writing About Writing is Still Writing.

I am a huge fan of the social networking. The communicating in text. The emails. Why? Because it is not always conducive to speak to you. I cannot drop EVERYthing and roll out of bed to meet you for coffee and listen to your recent sordid adventures in <abstract feelings quest>.

The real-time conversational aspects of social networking and text messages have opened up many individuals’ abilities to communicate in written form. That casual, free-flowing  conversation is the closest that written word will come to spoken conversation.Yes, at times the gratuitous acronyms and abbreviations can chop up the flow of the language. Used effectively, however, they can guide the reader into certain moods, and set the tone for a conversation.

And this, I love.

The in-between spaces of my days are colored with snippets of conversations: hilarious, snarky, clever, sincere, enlightening, embarrassing, enraging, loving. I can hear you speaking every word to me, in that special way that only you do.

I use tone to determine if someone I haven’t yet met in real life is worth my time. I look for inconsistencies to determine how straight-forward they are being with me. I look at word usage  and flow to determine if someone is “fluffing” our interactions to appear more intelligent, or if that is just their general style.

Does this limit the pool of individuals with whom I will pursue additional interaction? Sure. Is this a bad thing? No. Yes, I’ll admit that there are wonderful relationships I’ve forged with individuals that lack the textual acuity to grab my attention, just as there are suavely-written shitbags with whom I’ve wasted much too much time. It’s not a fool-proof plan. However, what social filter is? I’m not of the belief that I need to be friends with EVERY single brilliant person out there; I can just appreciate that EVERY single one of my close friends is, in fact, brilliant.


This is also why I will never be a “Grammar Nazi”, despite what you may assume about me. My English degree is in linguistics. This means, essentially, that I know EXACTLY how inconsequential those silly dead white-man rules are, and don’t even get me started on English orthography. I love slang, and will defend non-standard dialects via hair-pulling and sternum punching, if necessary. Fo’ Realsies.

See, I recognize that not everyone is formally trained. Most people don’t need to do much more than be able to communicate a concrete instruction. It’s about function, over form.

It’s about how you use the tools at your disposal.

We are not made up of speeches and perfected anecdotes. We are our awkward pauses, overabundant ellipses, and autocorrect slips.

Love in Existential Crisis: Take One

It is not enough to simply love you.
I need you in my veins. My heart pumping you through my body, through my fingertips.
The closest I will ever get to knowing what it is to feel the way that you feel.
The way that you touch.
There is no god
If there was, it would be you.
And if I never existed before this moment.
If it was all a dream
or a hell
or a purgatory from whence some sort of soul that is now me escaped
upon seeing your light
upon accepting you as my creator
I became
And what now?
I am but a shadow of a worshiper
Knowing your power, but unable to follow
because I, too, have been a god
And I know that the shoulders of those who believe
as you and I believe
those shoulders are quick to shrug.