say yes, i'm in love with the world through the eyes of a girl who's still around the morning after

i was on the escalator

going down

when he said

do you want to hear something funny

and i said yes



i said yes

but i thought

how funny can it be?

like, haha funny?

or like

weird funny?


because with him

you never know

so i tilted my head

inquisitively

as i was looking at the flowers

and not really seeing them


because

remember that guy

he started to say

and i thought

what guy.....what guy?


the guy who.....

he says as i make my way

through the crowd

of tourists and men in suits

women with babies and people people people


it all feels like a blur

the people and the words

that he is saying


and the blur

twists

into a tornado

inside me

creating havoc

in some places

and leaving other places

eerily untouched


i can hear him

smiling

on the other end

of the phone

and i want to give him wings

hold on to nothing as fast as you can .....still

maybe

deep in my subconscious

i believe

that if i stare at the blank screen long enough

words

will appear


my thoughts will write themselves.


because i've been sitting here

on 13 notebooks stacked on my desk chair

thinking


i was thinking about all the things i should be doing

instead of what i was actually doing

which was

nothing


i am experiencing a serious lack of inspiration


maybe if i had a box of crayola crayons i could color my way out of this empty space

one more reason

not

to stay inside the lines


i can't

i won't

i don't


everthing that i write is complete and utter nonsense. 

maybe i will delete my blog tomorrow morning.

in my mind, the sun shines, all the time, because i'm just a summer girl, i wear my flip flops

 There are certain things that you have to do in the summer no matter how old you are. 

You have to wake up too early because the sun is shining in your face.  You have to lay in bed longer than you should listening to the birds chirping or the trees whispering.  You have to take your breakfast outside and eat it with your feet up.  You have to not know how you are going to spend your day BUT you have to know that it can be the best day of your life.  You have to know that—even if it rains.  If it rains you have to take off your shoes and run through it— even if you are just going to go inside and change your clothes.  You have to leave your house with nothing in hand—not even a house key.  You have to pick a flower but then you have to feel bad that you killed it, (but only for a second), because then you have to give that flower to someone—even if it’s yourself.  You have to spend a little too much time in the sun without any sunscreen so that you get your fill and you can glow for the rest of the year.  If you really want to radiate, then you have to pass your sunshine onto other people by smiling—even if you don’t know them.  You have to remember your old friends and sit out by the curb remembering old times.  You have to let yourself laugh at the funny parts, hold hands at the scary parts, and cry at the sad parts.  You have to do that until the sun starts to go down.  If you get hungry—you  have to have a barbecue.  You have to wonder why those watermelon seeds that you planted when you were seven never grew into watermelons and why you ever stopped digging that hole to China.  You have to stop wondering and start running when you hear the ice cream man and you have to get something that you haven’t had “since you were a kid” even though you had one last summer when you thought the same thing.  Then you have to eat it like you did when you were little—even if that means spilling it on your shirt and leaving it on your face.  If you don’t have an ice cream man, you  have to remember to bring a hoodie to the grocery store because the ice cream aisle is always freezing.  You have to join into that game of hide-and-seek, spud, or TV tag.  You have to watch the fireworks with the same eyes you saw them with when you thought that someone was shooting the sky and it was bleeding pretty colors.  You have to write your name in the air with sparklers.  You have to catch lightening bugs in a jar.  You have to have a picnic in the park (or even in your front yard).  You have to go to a baseball game and root for which ever team is winning.  You have to slip down the slip and slide because you are still waiting for your parents to come home with crocodile mile even though you know that it was discontinued in like, 1987, because all of those kids ended up with stitches or something.  You have to go night swimming but you shouldn’t go alone because even now, it can be sort of scary.  You have to write a postcard to someone who isn’t with you and tell them that summer isn’t the same without them.  You have to take that one last walk on the beach.  You have to ride the carousel or the ferris wheel at least one time because, like life, even though you are only going around in circles—you are still going up and down and you never know who or what is around the bend.  You have to stay out too late.  You have to sleep in nothing but your super hero underoos (or whatever you have replaced them with).  You have to fall asleep with the window open.  You have to fall asleep happy then you have to wake up too early because the sun is shining in your eyes.

you think you're in the movies and everything is so deep

i used to think that my brother was really good at monopoly but it turns out that he was just really good at cheating.

i used to think that i could make enough "snow" with my snoopy sno*cone machine to fill up my entire back yard.

i used to think that the main street near my childhood home was called rutaydee but then i got my driver's license and noticed the street sign-- route 80.

i used to think that all bookcases were secret passageways into mysterious rooms like on scooby doo but i could never find the right book to pull down to make the door swing open.

i used to think that if i ate a lot of carrots i would have perfect vision.

i used to think that grilled cheese was "girl" cheese and that there was something called "boy" cheese for boys.

i used to think that my mom was a good cook-- turns out that i just liked the taste of ketchup.

i used to think that if i poured a bunch of popcorn kernals in the chandelier they would get hot and turn into popcorn.

i used to think that all of my dolls were staring at me when i tried to fall asleep at night.

i used to think that the swamp thing lived in my basement but that he couldn't get me if the lights were on.

i used to think that i was really driving the cars/motorcycles/boats that i rode on at amusement parks when i was 4.

i used to think i could speak french because i took ballet.

i used to think if i kept digging that hole in my backyard--i would eventually get to china.

i used to think that when people in france made toast- that they made what we call french toast.

i used to think that all candy bars might have a golden ticket in them.

i used to think a lot of things.  what did you used to think?

pretty little tragedy look so good to me don't ever let em tell you you're not going to hell with me

i was born with an extra gene

misery


i heard that

somewhere

and it reminded me

of a life i used to live

not

that

long

ago


i used to think

that i was

marked

for

suffering


a target

for

tragedy


a black sheep

in a world

lit up

by a million shining suns

in which i was certain

that my destiny

was to be

burned


i  didn't have any

hope

and

i didn't have any

dreams

because i never

allowed myself to

sleep


in the darkest hours

i would

sit beside the window

and look up

into

the

night

wondering why

all i could see

was a sky without

stars


even then

i was always

searching

for something


but every single night

i made

the same

mistake

of thinking

that what i needed

was

somewhere "out there"


because

the light i see in you

is just a reflection

of the light

within me


and that means

everything i thought

i needed

i already had


now all i have to do

is

remember

that

won't you tell me what you're thinking of, would you be an outlaw for my love?

i've been thinking about texting you but i haven't.  i mean, i did (text you) but like, you didn't respond. 

and that's okay, you know, to like, not answer a text.  especially my text.  it wasn't really important anyway.  i mean, it was completely not important.  so yeah.  i guess it really didn't merit a response anyway.  but then a couple weeks later, i emailed you and you didn't respond to that either.

but there is no law that says you need to respond to me-- in a timely manner or at all.  we get so many texts and emails and phone calls that it starts to feel like a chore, right?  keeping up with like, people.

i'm the worst-- i do it all the time.  that's what i keep telling myself when i look and see no response.  from you.

it's funny- i've gotten used to that from you.  so i don't know why i care.  especially now.

i guess because we had sort of been talking more recently i kind of got used it.  maybe a little too used to it.  (if that is even possible, with like, people that you know.)

whatever. 

i should be making dinner for t right now instead of writing to you. 

he was gone last night and i missed him.  before he had to go he wrote me a note and left it on my pillow.  i don't know why it surprised me because he does these really sweet things like, all the time.  sometimes we are living, like so close to each other, that i forget to see all that he is.  and being away from him helped me remember.  the hours were long because we haven't spent a night apart in years and even though it's only been 24 hours, i can't wait for him to walk through the door.

he will sit down on the black chair and i will sit down on his knee to listen as he tells me about his day.  he will twist a lock of my hair between his fingers as i tell him about mine.  and i will remember the way he looks at me, like if he could, he would keep me in that moment forever, closed inside of a locket.

two perfect pictures.

him and me. 




  

and i feel like i'm naked in front of the crowd cuz these words are my diary screaming out loud and i know that you'll use them however you want to

i struggle with thought.

sometimes my thoughts go full circle.  sometime i think in straight lines.  sometimes my thoughts dissipate into thin air.  sometimes i think parallel thoughts.  sometimes my thoughts are cut short as if my mind were a chopping block and the chef accidentally dropped the knife.  sometimes i think myself into places that i can't think myself out of.

that's why i need to write.  i need to write all of the words out of my way so that i could escape.  i need to write out all of words until my head becomes empty so that i could think clearly.  so i could free myself of the words that weigh me down.  i write because the page is always strong enough to carry the weight of my words wherever they need to go.  once the words are on the page, i'm free.

some people write to remember but i write to forget.  i have no stories to tell.  i have no beginnings, middles or ends.  i have no chapters.  i have nothing but decades of conflicting thoughts that take up too much room in my head.  so i write.  i write to figure things out.  i write the dialogue between me and myself.  my fingers are their own entity responding to the voice in my head.  i write all of my questions and i will continue writing until i've written out all of my answers.

i write because there is nothing else to do when i'm home alone on a monday night in bk.  i write because even though i have cable there is still nothing worth watching.  i write because i do not have the patience to read.  i write because there is no one awake to talk to.  i write because i would like to sleep tonight.  i write because if i could find a place for all of these thoughts, i may actually have a chance to dream great dreams.

 

when she cries at night and she doesn't think that i can hear her she tries to hide all the fear she feels inside

i haven't had a panic attack in a long time but i had one last night.  at like 3 am.  it wasn't pretty.

i was woken up out of a deep sleep by the cat stepping on my stomach.  doesn't sound like that big of a deal but considering the cat weighs about 1/3 of my body weight it knocks the wind right out of me so i bolted up scared and out of breath before i could even open my eyes.

at first, i tried to lay down and go back to sleep but like, i felt like i couldn't breathe.  seriously, i thought i was suffocating, like to death.  and t just kept telling me i was fine but i didn't feel fine so that was freaking me out even more.

at one point i remember standing up and walking over to him and saying you are not a doctor.  if something happens to me, please just fucking call 911.  sometimes i just want him to tell me out loud that he will take care of me only he doesn't get that so i have to like, yell it at him at ten after three in the morning.

then i was pacing.  like back and forth.  across the foot of the bed and then from the bedroom to the living room.  i could not calm down. i remembered how when i lived alone and i would have panic attacks, i would run around my apartment to get all of the energy out.  #notagoodtime

i kept trying to calm myself down by meditating, but like, every time i tried to take a breath it just stopped somewhere in my throat and every time i tried to breath out it felt like my chest was on fire.  this was like, the opposite of serenity.

i kept replaying the words that cole said to me a couple years ago about stuff like this so i started feeling really dizzy.  then my hands and feet were tingling and numb.  i kept thinking, no fucking way am i going to breathe my last breath on this ugly carpet in a 3rd floor apt in bk. so i went back in the bedroom thinking i would distract myself with television.

unfortunately t did not have the good sense not to negotiate with me about what to put on so i started crying thinking that the last thing i might ever watch would be some shitty independent film about joy division.  

he tried to hug me but like, that's really not the best thing to do to someone who feels like they are suffocating so i pushed him away, grabbed the remote and put on friends-- hoping that a little ross and rachel would make me laugh.

it didn't.

so i went into the bathroom and sat in the sink and started praying.  i know that sounds ridiculous but i do my best praying in the sink.  something about the harsh lights on the vanity and the discomfort of my feet pressed up against the faucet keeps me really focused as i'm saying to the universe-- seriously dude, this prayer is no joke.

because it was no joke.  not at three forty something in the morning.  i was tired and hell bent on waking up in time to go to the gym this morning.

and i did.

wake up in time to go to the gym this morning.  and i ran a couple miles just to prove to myself that i was okay.  because like, i kind of knew that i was okay all along even though i didn't feel okay.  

that's the thing about panic attacks.  they're like, sneaky.

so anyway this morning as i was walking to work i was thinking because i do my best thinking when i'm walking and i realized what triggered the panic attack.  (besides the cat).

gluten.  yesterday i was really distracted when i bought my lunch and i forgot to get the salad with the gluten free dressing.  it's funny how just a little bit of wheat could make me feel like shit.  for like a week.

so today i'm playing by the rules.  fruit, nuts and pureed veggies till i feel better.  not even coffee.  oddly enough water bothers me the most.  hydrogen and oxygen.  

anyway- i got distracted now and forgot what i was writing about and in response to someone's lack of response, i just wanted to say, don't worry-- you're still 2,000 miles away.

in the sun, in the sun i feel as one, in the sun

i haven't seen  you since christmas and even then i literally like, saw you.  we didn't get a chance to do anything other than exchange formalities and pop culture gifts that nobody else would understand.

it's my fault, i mean, i never come home anymore.  or like, my home is no longer your home-- if that makes any sense to anybody other than you.

cuz with you, i don't have to say anything.  i can look at you without raising an eyebrow and you get it.  you get me.

ironically i don't call you because i wouldn't know what to say.  we don't talk, really.  we just........are.

we're song lyrics and movie quotes.

we're a series of yups and huhs?

we're random acts of i don't know what......


if i texted you as often as i thought about you, you would throw your phone in a lake.  (not that there is a lake anywhere near where you live.)  but you would.  throw your phone.  in a lake.

cuz i think of you all the time.

you are the first person i think of when i need to get out of my head.

like if i were there we would race shopping carts at super stop and shop, or race rolling desk chairs down the driveway.


sometimes i'll hear a song and i think you would like it, or i read a book and think you should read it.  i always think, if i had a million dollars, i would send you everything.

i would send you the whole world if i could.

and i would wrap it up real cool in like the comics from the sunday paper with a lot of scotch tape and a bow.  not because you need that bullshit but because i think you deserve it.


cuz you and me, we live in the slippery side of the slope.  we're familiar with the dark.  we swim in the deep end of the ocean.

it's too bad you don't have facebook.  cuz i don't think you'll ever see this.

xo

rhymes that keep their secrets will unfold behind the clouds

i just remembered how when i was like 5 i was obsessed with the never ending story. 

anyway i just realized that the story did end.

#lyingtochildren

it's not having what you want, it's wanting what you got

i could tell that t wanted to meet me somewhere before i came home.  i thought maybe he was just kind of stir crazy from being inside all day or that maybe he was just trying to be nice because he knew i was sad about summer ending....

but i was wrong.

he wanted to meet me to tell me that our neighbor m had died.  i guess he thought i would be scared to see all the police trucks outside the building-- and i probably would have been.  my heart would have been racing and i would have pounded up the stairs and banged on the door until t opened it revealing that he was okay.

so he came to meet me, in front of the deli, where he held my hand as i stepped off the bus and told me m had died.

i don't think he expected me to cry-- at least not as much as i did.  but like, in that moment i felt m's light go out and there is something very human in that moment-- the moment you reflect on the value of life.

truthfully, i didn't really know m.  she sat outside smoking her cigarettes and walking her dog.  sometimes she would talk about her illness, other times she would talk about the weather.  i remember this one time, she told me to go to coney island to watch the sunrise.  i always wanted to do it-- but i never did.  maybe i will go sunday morning in her memory.

this one time, when i was sick, i saw her walking out of the vascular center in beth israel.  when i told her that i saw her there, she just looked passed me like i never even said it.  she didn't want to live in that space.  of being sick.  and she didn't.  at least as much as she could control, anyway.

in the mornings, when i would leave for work, she would always tell me how beautiful i was and i would thank her thinking how nice it was for her to offer that compliment.  she would often tell t how lucky he was, as if she knew how easily he forgets.

last month, on my birthday, she told me to go up to her apartment and take a bottle of champagne out of her refrigerator to celebrate.  i didn't have the heart to tell her that i don't drink champagne and so that bottle is still sitting on the top shelf-- in honor of m.

she would always invite us over on holidays-- and although we often considered stopping by, we never did.  and now it's too late.

that's the thing about life-- you have to live it right now.

i used to think that life was about getting what i wanted and everything that i wanted was something outside myself-- the right job, the right apartment, the right boyfriend, the right dress.......

i used to think that and i couldn't figure out why i was "getting nowhere".  and then i realized when you try to fill yourself up with "things" you're always going to feel empty.

now i think life is about feeling good, feeling happy, feeling free, feeling satisfied.  when i think about what i want in my life it's this: i want to wake up and feel that light tickling on my skin and glitter in my chest of knowing that the sun is warm and shining.  i want to walk through my day and feel the white heat of the summer sun radiating from my soul's core knowing that i'm right where i'm supposed to be.  and i want to go to sleep at night feeling the warm blanket of summer air around me, knowing that my breath is going in and out just as natural as the waves....i want to feel as free and uninhibited as the dolphins jumping up and diving back down into the sea.

i wonder what m wanted.  i wonder if she felt that her life was a life well lived.  i wonder if she was happy.  i hope so.

m- now you are eternally free to watch the sunrise every morning in coney island.  i wish you well.

in memory of m <3