Log in

No account? Create an account

realization that comes and goes

it had been months since he'd said anything that even remotely resembled the idea that he loved her. even longer since he'd said those three words directly. still, she stayed. tied down by the duties around the yellow apartment that was anything but bright that she knew would never get done without her nearly compulsive cleaning habits, and the platinum engagement band on her left hand.

when he came home from a buddy's house that afternoon, having left early last night to go out and drink, she didn't look up. she cringed behind the book she held in front of her face, hands shaking despite of the confidence she had built long before he, that she had planned to keep long after he had gone...but things didn't always work out in the way you expected them to.

he was stumbling over the pile of dirty laundry on the floor that she had just got done sorting, the process of washing paused while she was waiting for the delicates' cycle to be up. afraid what may come if she didn't, she peeked timidly over the top of her novel and managed a faint smile. "good afternoon, baby. i missed you."
no longer was she sure if her affection was all but the truth, or all but a lie.

the man was clearly hungover; he was clutching his head, and still attempting his way over to her. once at the arm of the lounger she was curled up in, he grabbed for her book and threw it down on the end table adjacent to her seat, nearly toppling the fourth glass of wine she'd already poured for herself since breakfast.

with innocent brown eyes that resembled a doe's, she peered up at him as he took her by the chin, body already braced for whatever it was he had in store for her.

but she hadn't expected the slurred confession that followed.

"i love you, nikki."

immediately, her eyes filled with tears and she slunk away from him, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. her head was bowed, and she shook her head as sobs began to convulse through her body...but it wasn't the cry of happiness you'd expect.

"what happened?" she asked, even more fearful than normal. "what did you do?"

but he didn't seem to understand. he grabbed her roughly by the arm, his supposed love never even enough to mar his harsh movements. "what do you mean? i just told you i loved you!"

after a pause, and a fit of more sobs, she wiped her eyes on the sleeve of his over-sized shirt that she wore, if only to retain his smell. "and when's the last time you told me you loved me?"

he wanted to be angry with her for not accepting his declaration, but somewhere under the violence, the lack of loyalty and the alcohol that had dehydrated his system, he knew it was true. the last time she had heard those words from him was after his last run-in with cheating on her. he was apologetic for a few days so she'd agree to stay, and went back to hitting her afterward. if he had betrayed her since, she wouldn't know. he only went through periods of guilt, and she'd heard enough from others to know she couldn't trust him.

"nikki, we were at a party. he had had just a beer to drink and he had his arm around this girl. he whispered something to her and they were gone. he's my friend but there was no way i could keep this to myself."

"do you know why he hasn't been home for a week? he's got hickies all over his neck, wants to hide them from you...jared has threatened me not to say anything, so please, nikki, i just had to let you know..."

"gabby again?" she feared, her crying suddenly stopped and her face pale. she grabbed her glass of wine, finishing off the rest before attempting to get up and go to the kitchen to fetch herself another, when her legs gave out and she collapsed back into her seat. the glass fell to the floor, another burgundy stain upon the faux hardwood floor as it shattered.

and in truth, he couldn't remember what had happened the previous night. but he woke up in a stranger's bed without any clothes, and a number written on his chest in red lipstick. he was a heavy sleeper, especially after a night spent out. it was then he wished it was nikki that he had spent his night with. because despite it all, he loved her as he always had. he had just forgotten how to portray that given everything they'd gone through. before things had gone to shit.

and if honesty was truly what you sought, she drank because when she finally blacked out, she wouldn't have any nightmares for him. her liver at the expense of his companionship.

"things will work themselves out one day." it was this she replied, when someone rang of his infidelities, or when she was feeling low, another feigned smile coming to her face. but there was a crack in her reflection.
when i sat down to write my last entry it occurred to me that i hadn't gotten such chills in a long while.
the good, eerie kind that envelop my body when i know i'm about to think up something good.

and God, i know my struggles are nothing compared to yours, but i feel like i have a better inkling of how sinning affects you now.
i really do try to be as much like You as i can, yet the people who i care for ignore this and do things in spite of me.
and my heart breaks.

the chronicles of nikita

i wish i was flawless.

what a good time to try again.

i'm still trying to find my prose, and my way. tonight i have my God and parents to thank for everything. and my friends. <3

things aren't going well for me, unfortunately. i guess i'll hang on if i'm martyring for him. that seems to be what my life is about now.
idk why i always protect the people i love, even if i know they're wrong. it's loyalty, but it feels like a flaw. the other day i was screaming, home alone. and i looked at myself in the mirror and picked myself apart. i haven't done that in so long, no matter how many times i look at other girls and feel hatred because i don't look that way. whether my nose is too wide or my upper lip is weird, i'm still pretty, and i know that. and even if he doesn't anymore, a lot of other people care about me and think i'm something special.

you give beauty to all, but where's the beauty of losing a lover?

and it's hard to take you serious when you tear me straight apart
back to relying on my screams to wake me up in the dark
the faith has left eyes, 'love' no longer sets right in my heart
i swear i'd give up forever to take things back to the start...



foolish or all-absorbing passion or an instance of this: a mere infatuation that will not last.


a person or thing that draws, attracts, allures, or entices: The main attraction was the after-dinner speaker.


the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc.

now, define love.

you can't.

giving up

there were things i loved at one point. i'm no longer loyal to them, they no longer hold an interest in me.
remaining as what makes me the happiest, is seeing others so full of life.
why can't i make myself happy?
even in my words there's no fucking conviction. a bitter shadow of the writer i used to be.
the heart i used to be. the mind i used to lose on a regular basis.
and i'd rather have it running than have it spinning, trust me.

when i sit, and when i think, there are chills. so much more than i've felt for so long.
hurt, or engulfed in the idea of needles covering every inch of my skin?
with some kind of terrible drug that numbs, yet brings me back to life at the same time.

john donne - undone

"Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite, ‘Fool,’ said my Muse to me; ‘look in thy heart and write."

not how i imagined it.

soon, he'll be in oregon.
and this was never how i imagined it. i always thought i'd be the one to end it. the one to get up and leave. i was always on the verge of it but i never had a good enough reason. now he's found his. going off to college...and i knew it had to happen, i knew it did. every plan is a prayer and father time answered this. we've been discussing it for month. my face has been falling apart over it and i don't have any one to put it back together. because he doesn't make me that happy. there's no way he can anymore. i don't want to allow myself the joy i know is going to be stolen away forever...i need to get used to being without it. i haven't cried any more since my last three advils for that nasty headache, it'd been too much already. i'm working on getting my breath even, my chest goes up and down and i watch it to make sure it doesn't stop. when i'd lay on his chest, i remember, i'd always be too focused on his heartbeat to pay attention to my breathing...and i'd be too used to the sound of his to get mine back to the way it should be. now the rhythm of my compacting and contracting lungs is in sync with my sobs, and they both steal from each other. i feel as if i have no energy left yet that's all they keep taking from me. and this is the end. he's going to be gone. i don't even want to see him one last time. i won't be able to take it, and i want his going away to be somewhat happy...without me holding him back or making him regret the decision we came up with together.
it seems like we only ever say goodbye. this is it.
no matter how hard i try i can't seem to get myself to look up, my eyes stay glued to the ground. pretty little pessimist, saltine weighing my lids down. i think my face is going to be permanently stretched from just this. i've always wanted a longer face, really. but this is a different sense of long. this is worn. this is hurt. this is what i told myself i'd never become again.
i told him to go, so now i have to let him.
a truth i would rather lose, than to never have lain beside at all?
maybe. but when he leaves...who's gonna watch me die?


i am the sweetheart.

that's what those who see me around and don't know me that well think. because i'm quiet and i'm little and i've always got a smile on my face.
maybe i am a sweetheart -- that's what i'm becoming. a "sweetheart". and i'm a sweetheart because i allow myself to get pushed around and i allow people to be rude and i can just pull a face when i'm unhappy to make people feel bad for me...the one they don't know to be anything but sweet, not yet, 'cause i haven't had a chance.
a chance to stand up for myself. i am a pushover. people take advantage of me.
i used to be the bully. i used to be the one people liked but knew they couldn't get away with messing with.
and now i'm the easiest to take advantage of because i'm too busy thinking and feeling depressed to know it's not right.
maybe i'm waiting for people to realize that i'm not okay; that they need to stop, that i can only handle so much. the weight of the world.
and it's crashing down on me. i cry and i cry and i cry and i cry.
my old self is coming back, my older self is the one i need. where is the girl who's never afraid?
lost. wandering. unsure.
trying to retrieve her personality. but for now, she's just stuck.

Dec. 17th, 2008

shot four times and i'm twisted and sore
well i'd do it again and i'd die once more
mangled or not you'll take me as i am
this should be a crime. self-loathing
to the point of destruction. where is my personality?