I love you I love you I love you I hate you goodbye drop dead and get lost and try a new suit you cheap scumbag. You're the only one I want and I'll love you forever, you filthy thing.
You meant so much to much over the years, and I owe to you so much of my personal growth. I know something happens because I feel it in me, and I know you know you it, too because I feel it in you. You are the only one I see and I love you dearly. You kissed my cheek. Wordless. We never speak about anything that matters, do we? CATHERINE. I hate the way you say it; disconnected, but at once I felt the jolt as you talked about a different woman but meant me. You never understood how much I see, you think I'm dumb like the others.
You pretended not to notice, you were always like that, then I felt it, you put your hand on my shoulder and whispered up to me.
I see you. More than you could expect, but I know you suspect, if that makes sense.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
I love you.
Friday, October 21, 2016
Saturday, May 16, 2015
Catastrophe Averted
"Catastrophic thinking."
Maybe she is right, I used you. You were my imaginary house on the hill with the perfect life you never had an interest in. I took something, gave it all to you.
When do you forgive? Does the guilt dissipate?
A came over and lay on the bed and we talked for hours like we used to. Its hot in the apartment now that the summer is coming and everything is everywhere. We feel together; I can be myself with A. That love is something I can't appreciate enough; when I do not know what day it is.
I went back to the better gym, they have boxing there which I'm dying to take.
I want to go to the water tomorrow and stare at it to think. I want to leave flowers for K, I haven't been to the grave in years. N at work told me her best friend died the same way when she was 15, I couldn't believe it. Her name means "New Beginning." Maybe its a sign she came when she did? They really have no idea how much they help me.
My mother left me a book recently - I need to read it. She never says what she means, that woman. A pattern of avoidance that has carried into her children. S and I understand each other, just like our family. Cutting things off so as not to feel it. I like that we can be close, that I know I'm not entirely alone. S doesn't understand, he saw a different side. But S loves us both, you know?And I need that, the love of someone I think is normal. I want to know if S ever went to the doctor, do we struggle the same way? It's odd how eerily similar our lives play out. Everyone tells my mother she should be proud. I think so, too.
Two and half hours I talked to a virtual stranger about my inability to love. About my feelings had I had them. About disappointment, about meaning. She doesn't think I belong there, thinks I deserve to have answers.
It's going to be ok; I keep telling myself that when I feel down. A said I never sleep.
Maybe she is right, I used you. You were my imaginary house on the hill with the perfect life you never had an interest in. I took something, gave it all to you.
When do you forgive? Does the guilt dissipate?
A came over and lay on the bed and we talked for hours like we used to. Its hot in the apartment now that the summer is coming and everything is everywhere. We feel together; I can be myself with A. That love is something I can't appreciate enough; when I do not know what day it is.
I went back to the better gym, they have boxing there which I'm dying to take.
I want to go to the water tomorrow and stare at it to think. I want to leave flowers for K, I haven't been to the grave in years. N at work told me her best friend died the same way when she was 15, I couldn't believe it. Her name means "New Beginning." Maybe its a sign she came when she did? They really have no idea how much they help me.
My mother left me a book recently - I need to read it. She never says what she means, that woman. A pattern of avoidance that has carried into her children. S and I understand each other, just like our family. Cutting things off so as not to feel it. I like that we can be close, that I know I'm not entirely alone. S doesn't understand, he saw a different side. But S loves us both, you know?And I need that, the love of someone I think is normal. I want to know if S ever went to the doctor, do we struggle the same way? It's odd how eerily similar our lives play out. Everyone tells my mother she should be proud. I think so, too.
Two and half hours I talked to a virtual stranger about my inability to love. About my feelings had I had them. About disappointment, about meaning. She doesn't think I belong there, thinks I deserve to have answers.
It's going to be ok; I keep telling myself that when I feel down. A said I never sleep.
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Effort.
The best kind of man plants lilies in his garden and brings you pickle chips from his business trips. I love that C is kind to me, and patient enough to allow me my space. There really is something unique about being around a man who makes you feel beautiful. I like his American friends and slather my face in Russian skincare. I haven't decided what I want. Grandma tells me I look beautiful in all the pictures. I had drinks with J, who was a perfect gentleman and fellow creative. I'm thoroughly excited about the next couple of weeks, even with little idea of what that is going to look like. What can we do?
"You doing what you can, girl."
It's almost like waking up from some bad dream; I see change everyday. There are times I get sad and miss the past, but I'm happy to see everyone else is, too. It was a toxic place. I don't ever want to see those faces again. Today, anyway.
I was the only "I" in training, and went to the gym with A, an odd instance of us getting along. I'm always closest to those I can't even stand to be near at first. The most profound loves of my life are always found in people I hated. Mutually!
I go home in two weeks to visit K. I want to go back to copper, I always cling to the roots when reaching the tangibility of something.
I asked A to take me to the mountains in an odd want to hike. N wants to take me to the islands in a getaway from her own life. They know me.
"It ain't bad, Cat, it's just different."
I'm trying, God knows I'm trying.
"You doing what you can, girl."
It's almost like waking up from some bad dream; I see change everyday. There are times I get sad and miss the past, but I'm happy to see everyone else is, too. It was a toxic place. I don't ever want to see those faces again. Today, anyway.
I was the only "I" in training, and went to the gym with A, an odd instance of us getting along. I'm always closest to those I can't even stand to be near at first. The most profound loves of my life are always found in people I hated. Mutually!
I go home in two weeks to visit K. I want to go back to copper, I always cling to the roots when reaching the tangibility of something.
I asked A to take me to the mountains in an odd want to hike. N wants to take me to the islands in a getaway from her own life. They know me.
"It ain't bad, Cat, it's just different."
I'm trying, God knows I'm trying.
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Sunny Reflection
Everything is gonna be alright. I say that recently and am starting to believe it.
There is something irrestibly beautiful in the pain of having suffered unrequited love and servitude. Something in those moments feeds something within that isn't there in the droll of regular relationships. In effect, I think it was probably the greatest expression of love to me I've ever seen, the love pushing me into a better version of myself. We are fueled by this, changed, moved into newness into a better understanding and higher expectation.
None of this ever had anything to the object, the person who, for reasons forever unexplained, couldn;t love me. I've come to understand that freedom lies within learning to forgive them for what they couldn't give. Is there a part of me that used to believe that was the truth? Absolutely. But that needn't be the end, and it never was.
I'm seeing things as this continuous, beautiful climb. There will unfortunately always exist the pain, very real, very persistent, but I can choose now. I have to bury the hope for anything different, but understanding that it was me all along is helping. I will always love the people that color these moments, my mother first and foremost. I will never understand, I will never get closure. But maybe we don't really need these things?
I used to believe I'd one day move onto a family that would give me everything I lacked. When I remember that, all the imaginary plays that kept me surviving in a world that must have been so hard for the child I was, it strikes me as incredibly sad and strong at the same time. I don't believe any of the people that ever got woven into the fantasy could really ever measure up to that belief in the first place. There is an odd calm in the acceptance of that. I gave them more credit than they ever were due.
I will always the be the child of a woman who couldn't love her. But I will also always be original, unique, and inherently different because of this. I owe so much to the child that kept up those fantasies, I owe so much to the things that kept me afloat when I could have given up. People always say you get what you can handle, I see it as true in this fact. And you know, maybe even that horrible lifetime and experience, not so far from my reality now - perhaps just different players, had its purpose after all. Could I have been the woman I am today without being the kid I had to be?
The world doesn't glorify women scorned, doesn't allow for anything of that nature. They don't know enough, I'm convinced.
I was monumentally sad all week after dinner these last two weeks; being around the people who hurt you most is never positive on the surface. B said this week she thinks those people have something to hide - their own normalicy. I can't say I will never long again, I will never feel that inevitable pit in my stomach, the urge to react, but it is a strange and beautiful world I created that I am reacting to. He glorified my speech, ever enthralled with my story-telling, but I think it is flattery out of the pity of not understanding. I used to wish we'd never met. Still do. But the epiphany, the relationship of this to so much of my life's greatest hurts and slights, has me beginning to see this in a new way, understand the bigger picture, and thus, finally, heal. There is a genuine love I will always feel at the memory of him, but it's just that, the memory of something I created in a habituation of an empty and incomplete capacity to connect.
I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life, and I never thought I'd say that, years ago, being where I feared the most. S has texted me more, I love him and S; we understand each other better than I ever realized. I visited everyone in Jersey, and fell in love with the idea that those days are over, and I can close the book. My grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins. Godson, most of all. I was finally able to close the door, and come outside.
My mother moved into my room. The sun still spills in and looks just like it did, she kept the color. I love that place more than I can convey, but there is a strange comfort in not being able to go back where once I saw fear. I'm free. It is that shell that kept me, I finally understand the wall I built.
Maybe there is real love beyond this moment, and relationships I've run from for so long don;t have to be the tangled mess of bore I once believed. Maybe there's been a happy ending all along, and feeling happy is a state that can last, not taken selfishly away by the monsters I lived with.
M told me she wants to go to UPenn. I sincerely hoped, honestly, that she gets in.
Things look beautiful out here, they genuinely do.
There is something irrestibly beautiful in the pain of having suffered unrequited love and servitude. Something in those moments feeds something within that isn't there in the droll of regular relationships. In effect, I think it was probably the greatest expression of love to me I've ever seen, the love pushing me into a better version of myself. We are fueled by this, changed, moved into newness into a better understanding and higher expectation.
None of this ever had anything to the object, the person who, for reasons forever unexplained, couldn;t love me. I've come to understand that freedom lies within learning to forgive them for what they couldn't give. Is there a part of me that used to believe that was the truth? Absolutely. But that needn't be the end, and it never was.
I'm seeing things as this continuous, beautiful climb. There will unfortunately always exist the pain, very real, very persistent, but I can choose now. I have to bury the hope for anything different, but understanding that it was me all along is helping. I will always love the people that color these moments, my mother first and foremost. I will never understand, I will never get closure. But maybe we don't really need these things?
I used to believe I'd one day move onto a family that would give me everything I lacked. When I remember that, all the imaginary plays that kept me surviving in a world that must have been so hard for the child I was, it strikes me as incredibly sad and strong at the same time. I don't believe any of the people that ever got woven into the fantasy could really ever measure up to that belief in the first place. There is an odd calm in the acceptance of that. I gave them more credit than they ever were due.
I will always the be the child of a woman who couldn't love her. But I will also always be original, unique, and inherently different because of this. I owe so much to the child that kept up those fantasies, I owe so much to the things that kept me afloat when I could have given up. People always say you get what you can handle, I see it as true in this fact. And you know, maybe even that horrible lifetime and experience, not so far from my reality now - perhaps just different players, had its purpose after all. Could I have been the woman I am today without being the kid I had to be?
The world doesn't glorify women scorned, doesn't allow for anything of that nature. They don't know enough, I'm convinced.
I was monumentally sad all week after dinner these last two weeks; being around the people who hurt you most is never positive on the surface. B said this week she thinks those people have something to hide - their own normalicy. I can't say I will never long again, I will never feel that inevitable pit in my stomach, the urge to react, but it is a strange and beautiful world I created that I am reacting to. He glorified my speech, ever enthralled with my story-telling, but I think it is flattery out of the pity of not understanding. I used to wish we'd never met. Still do. But the epiphany, the relationship of this to so much of my life's greatest hurts and slights, has me beginning to see this in a new way, understand the bigger picture, and thus, finally, heal. There is a genuine love I will always feel at the memory of him, but it's just that, the memory of something I created in a habituation of an empty and incomplete capacity to connect.
I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life, and I never thought I'd say that, years ago, being where I feared the most. S has texted me more, I love him and S; we understand each other better than I ever realized. I visited everyone in Jersey, and fell in love with the idea that those days are over, and I can close the book. My grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins. Godson, most of all. I was finally able to close the door, and come outside.
My mother moved into my room. The sun still spills in and looks just like it did, she kept the color. I love that place more than I can convey, but there is a strange comfort in not being able to go back where once I saw fear. I'm free. It is that shell that kept me, I finally understand the wall I built.
Maybe there is real love beyond this moment, and relationships I've run from for so long don;t have to be the tangled mess of bore I once believed. Maybe there's been a happy ending all along, and feeling happy is a state that can last, not taken selfishly away by the monsters I lived with.
M told me she wants to go to UPenn. I sincerely hoped, honestly, that she gets in.
Things look beautiful out here, they genuinely do.
Monday, January 19, 2015
New Year
They say that January was named after Janus, Roman god of doorways and openings.
I used to hate when people said that one door closing meant another would open. I think, lately, and I'm not even sure why, that I've got the secret - you've got to want to turn the knob.
Things have been so good as of late I'm terrified of jinxing it. I believe in prayer again, a faulty Catholic at best. My granddad died without ever seeing me get married, but you know, I think he was proud. My mother, long afraid of losing her father, more than I ever would understand while he was alive, found my picture among some of his papers. I genuinely cried at losing him; the man who loved me when my mother was too stressed to.
I'm inspired lately by my grandmother, so strong through all of this. My Irish grandfather all but willed himself to died when his wife passed, my grandmother makes jokes about the process and asked me how I liked living alone. I've forgiven a lot of the family in this process.
I've started seeing a very nice man. He brought me flowers on the first date (something that, in all the men I've ever been out with and their many gifts, no one has ever done), where we wore tux and gown to ice skate at Bryant Park. I got photographed by the fashion photographer of the NY Times, and met people with names I can't pronounce. As much as I've dated, successfully and unsuccessfully alike (more of the latter, admittedly), there is always the high when you meet someone you like enough to let like you back. The flowers have yet to wilt, and its been a week, a sign that they were given in good faith, Marilyn used to tell me. He contacts me all the time, even if on business. Crossing my fingers it keeps going well. I didn't think I was going to enjoy the date, admittedly, for no particular reason, so it is good to finally be pleasantly surprised.
What is it about dating a good man that suddenly makes you lose that nagging need for attention you used to have from all the rotten ones? Suddenly, "relationships" I invested so much of myself into seem stupid. You get to this place where you suddenly see, it really wasn't you. What is broken to begin with can't be fixed by breaking again, and it never compared to the possibilities I've come to believe are waiting ahead of me.
I see D and I see stagnation, it hurts me because he still wears my clothes. But it's over; new man, C, said you know, you'd have been dressing him for life. And he's right. J got engaged, I want to say I was sad at that news and truly, part of me was, but more than that, a deep feeling of reverberating truth: I'm free. He's happy now; everything had a purpose. I kissed the thought of him on the cheek and wished him happiness.
K invited me to the alumni event for Browning/Marymount, a late twenties version of a dance. Joe will be there, recently divorced, I'll take him around and introduce him, poor kid. K is a dirtbag. His recent trick was to apologize for "going MIA" lately. I didn't have the heart to let him know that only what we care to look for is really ever missing. He's so selfish. And for what?!
I want to turn it up at work this week. I want to excel, I feel like I've been slipping and I've got to give them my entire being. It's necessary!
Happy.
I used to hate when people said that one door closing meant another would open. I think, lately, and I'm not even sure why, that I've got the secret - you've got to want to turn the knob.
Things have been so good as of late I'm terrified of jinxing it. I believe in prayer again, a faulty Catholic at best. My granddad died without ever seeing me get married, but you know, I think he was proud. My mother, long afraid of losing her father, more than I ever would understand while he was alive, found my picture among some of his papers. I genuinely cried at losing him; the man who loved me when my mother was too stressed to.
I'm inspired lately by my grandmother, so strong through all of this. My Irish grandfather all but willed himself to died when his wife passed, my grandmother makes jokes about the process and asked me how I liked living alone. I've forgiven a lot of the family in this process.
I've started seeing a very nice man. He brought me flowers on the first date (something that, in all the men I've ever been out with and their many gifts, no one has ever done), where we wore tux and gown to ice skate at Bryant Park. I got photographed by the fashion photographer of the NY Times, and met people with names I can't pronounce. As much as I've dated, successfully and unsuccessfully alike (more of the latter, admittedly), there is always the high when you meet someone you like enough to let like you back. The flowers have yet to wilt, and its been a week, a sign that they were given in good faith, Marilyn used to tell me. He contacts me all the time, even if on business. Crossing my fingers it keeps going well. I didn't think I was going to enjoy the date, admittedly, for no particular reason, so it is good to finally be pleasantly surprised.
What is it about dating a good man that suddenly makes you lose that nagging need for attention you used to have from all the rotten ones? Suddenly, "relationships" I invested so much of myself into seem stupid. You get to this place where you suddenly see, it really wasn't you. What is broken to begin with can't be fixed by breaking again, and it never compared to the possibilities I've come to believe are waiting ahead of me.
I see D and I see stagnation, it hurts me because he still wears my clothes. But it's over; new man, C, said you know, you'd have been dressing him for life. And he's right. J got engaged, I want to say I was sad at that news and truly, part of me was, but more than that, a deep feeling of reverberating truth: I'm free. He's happy now; everything had a purpose. I kissed the thought of him on the cheek and wished him happiness.
K invited me to the alumni event for Browning/Marymount, a late twenties version of a dance. Joe will be there, recently divorced, I'll take him around and introduce him, poor kid. K is a dirtbag. His recent trick was to apologize for "going MIA" lately. I didn't have the heart to let him know that only what we care to look for is really ever missing. He's so selfish. And for what?!
I want to turn it up at work this week. I want to excel, I feel like I've been slipping and I've got to give them my entire being. It's necessary!
Happy.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Losing Control
You know, I love that I had that effect on you. You are beautiful, wonderful, mysterious and perfect.
And I never realized, you're just as scared of me.
And I never realized, you're just as scared of me.
Thursday, April 17, 2014
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