I haven’t stopped to write for a while now.  Too frustrated, tired, and sick I guess.  Life goes on even without my ritual for self preservation.  I wonder sometimes why I fail to find the time to do even the most necessary things.  Writing is breathing and I have been holding my breath for much too long.

I did it.  I wrote him.  I know that this is stupid but I needed the link.  I wonder if it will help.  I wonder if converting both of her parents will somehow make me feel more justified.  However perhaps I am the one that forgot that he is more to me than she ever was.  He knew my mom.  He grew up with her.  He might know her even better than my dad does.  How amazing that would be.  Someone who could tell me what I am.  I feel so lost right now.  I guess it because of the cancer, but I feel as though I am moments away from being that lost orphan who has no family and no past.  I feel like I am about to become lost.  Maybe it is because I am older now.  More complete and more afraid of whom I am destined to become.  I don’t know why I ramble.  I do hope though that he understands his daughter and still can love me.

There are moments lately when I find myself struggling to breathe.  I gasp sometimes, falter, and fall down; half exhausted, half discouraged.  I enjoy everyday, every single one of them, even yesterday when I reigned the victor of a food fight, a vomit competition, and a pissing war.  However, so often I find that the weight is literally sitting on my chest waiting to cave in my lungs and push my heart into my backbone.  Perhaps that is my problem.  Perhaps my heart just needs to get a backbone.  Is courage the ingredient lacking in my will to succeed? 

I have been pushed so far recently.  Pushed by a fussy, needy baby.  Pushed by an increasingly annoying hubby.  Pushed by being a mother of four never resting and never forgiving little boys.  It makes me ill.  Honestly it makes me ill to think about going to bed once again to wake up with two boys in my bed suffocating me and drain all the strength I have left. 

There are times I just want to scream along with them.  It is all so frustrating.

I had the baby.  Still jaded, muted, numb, and tired as hell.  It never stops raining.

Throbbing fingers falter
Tender from each misguided prick
Hopes and dreams patched together
With glue and string to make them stick.
Lives are sewn together
Hastily but carefully played
An intricate pattern emerges
And a patchwork quilt is made.
Some seams are made to be ripped
And squares to be pulled out clean
While others must be cut
And jagged edges must remain.
My quilt is full of holes
Pieces that have been worn through
Missing parts of my life
That use to guide me through.
But you have always been the string
That has mended up my tears
That has guided and has comforted me
Throughout the passing years.
My quilt is worn and ragged
And bloody dots show through in spots
But I know that it will last me through
Because every string ends with a knot.

There was this sinking feeling today.
This dreaded thump of each heartbeat.
A slow and steady rush that was once welcomed but now seems tainted.
Where has your perfection gone?
The hopes and dreams dashed upon the ultrasound screen.
There is this scream inside my head that ignores my soul.
How can my heart love you so much but my mind falter at the words?
And always this echo
“If we had known sooner you could have had an abortion”
Each flutter is a reminder of my guilt
A reminder of my fear
And constantly I think I must be the brain damaged one.

My sorrow remains unclimatic
As the pain simply fails to peak
Your joy dissolves into my heartache
A piece of you that refuses to fade.
There were days that I adored you
Idolized you as the sun
Found peace and comfort in you
Held on for much too long.
Swollen tears of frustration
Inconsistent heartbeats lost
Failed hopes and dreams adorn me
Reminders of my weakest part.

I closed the chapter of my life where you reside.
I finally had the courage to put you up in the place reserved only for memories.
It took awhile, was painful, was sad, but now it is done.
You are done.
A finished chapter in a book that was good enough to read but not worth holding on to.

Goodbye

Welcome to the mind of madness
Crammed in between simplicity and chaos
An open door into imagination
Sorrow, joy, and unrelenting inconsistency
A character defined by no identifiable characteristic
Forgotten in a sea of others
Lost between you and them
Wavering on the waves of thought and temptation
Randomly bitchy, congruently sweet
Simply human and undeniably so

Your ignorance is palpable
An acid spew of filth so haphazardly laid
The fool you play, the foul jester
The disgusting whore who wails the wrong tune
Your own reassurances are faulty
Wrongly written and absurdly mistaken
You the ignorant bitch so highly placed
Will be beautiful only when you fall

How foolish of me to believe in you.  As though this world has some plan for us besides utter chaos.  I had thought that our past, our sex, our similarities was enough.  That it was possible for us to be kindred without being lovers.  However, that’s not the divine plan is it?  We can not be friends.  Amazing that you can be myspace “friends” with a hundred people you have never even met, but me, no.  I do understand though.  Do not let my disappointment mask the fact that I am acutely aware that you disappeared as soon as she walked in.  Is it not possible for you to love her while speaking to me?  Do you understand that I will never be yours?  Even after two failed marriages and twenty years to mature.  Brian I do love you.  You understand all the parts of me that no one else even tries to.  I will miss you, but now I know that your future lies with her and not with me.