Gate A50

It's been a few restless nights and long days since I've last posted. I moved states, twice...got married...got unmarried...and am actually still in the process of that last one. I wish I could sit here and say everything is better. Vivid memories of the nights sitting there writing...the sadness, the anger, the hurt...I feel it rush back into me; combing the lines of my past posts.

Now it's November, the cold already came, the snow is falling from the sky...but what isn't. I'm in an airport, I have been for 24 hours now. A feeble attempt to make it back home ended up in a missed flight with one missed standby after another. I say home, but honestly I couldn't define 'home' right now. If you asked me today I'd construe the airport as 'home'. I wish I could tell you I have a plan. A plan is the last thing I have.

There is a part of me, the kind of part you don't realize it was there until it's gone, it disappeared somewhere 25,000 feet above the Colorado rockies. Maybe, I don't really know where it dropped off the face of the earth, it could be somewhere in the Mongolian rim. Chances are I won't find it again, chances are I'll have to learn to live with out that bit of humanity that made me a decent person.

This airport, this flight I'm about to take, it's not the first time. I've made this flight thirty three times, trying to defy logic, or fate, or something. Finding something I haven't found, so I keep booking the next available get-out-of-here and make-a-run-for-it ticket. It's like always checking to see if the grass is greener, taking a blade or two from each place just to compare it. Thirty three times of not being any closer to an answer.

This is thirty four, and I still can't sit here an say it's my last. I'm the headphone cord in your bag, tangled in everything else, not being used for the indented purposes...because, well, it's too much effort to untangle.

That part of me I told you is unfound, I can't really even explain to you what it was. I don't feel any different, I pinch myself...and it's all the same. Saying it's that reasonable rational voice in your head, it's the closest I can come. It still talks to me, it's just saying things I never thought it would say. It forgot about it's soul, but yet somehow I still feel mine.

PM

It's hard to forget the past. More so, hard to forget all the bad things in the past. They continue to haunt us, while the good memories seem to fade away. When a bad moment happens, a tragic experience, or you did something you terribly regret, it sets the stage for fear. Fear you will loose what you have, possibly a social standing, your job, your love. Fear of loss creates sadness, regret, and all fear when stripped is just anger.

Mostly I'm just angry with myself. People do things to hurt me, and I just get angry with myself for being in that situation in the first place. Sometimes I do things out of character I can't even explain, and I ended up feeling like a terrible person. I probably am. I've done many things to create harm to others, I've lost a lot in my life. Keeping a constant in any part of my life isn't easy for me, and it doesn't come naturally. And because of the past, because of the fear, I tend to run away and hide from difficult situations. Or I take hard and stressful situations and make them worse. It's not on purpose, I don't know what makes me the imperfect person I am. I could take a guess but it would just sound like blame, and or passing my responsibility on to something else.

My fear brings a lot of my past into my current life, in my day to day. It causes anxiety, and depression. But it's all under the skin, hidden some where in my mind I can't possibly access. I just feel guilt, guilty for it all, guilty for not being able to control it. Guilty for not being a better person. I could be, better. Why I'm not, I really can't tell you. Maybe it has to do with my lack of sympathizing with others, and just generally not understanding human emotions. I probably let my Aspergers take too much of the blame for my digressions. I should know better, I'm not an idiot after all.

I'm struck with fear, and anger, and sadness, regret, guilt, so I sleep. It's the only thing to make it go away. Because as much as I try to push it all down, cover it with new experiences, I can't ever make it go away. So I sleep

Midnight Hour

It's the end of the road, it's cold and I'm alone. I'm not quite sure how I got here, so I'm not sure how to turn around and go back. Where would I even go back to? I don't know how to fix things that I wasn't sure that they broken in the first place.

There was a moment I knew where I started, but I'm not sure I was ever really even there. Not sure when it became something else. What do I even know at all?

I don't know.

I do know that I'm not fond of where I am now, on this road that ended. I tried so hard to keep it, keep the road going, trying not to make a wrong turn. I thought I knew all the answers, I thought I had it all figured out for me, turns out I have more questions than I have answers. If I knew the truth, I would tell you.

I don't know.

I'm sort of so used to being unhappy, I always find myself there, if I wanted it or not. My stomach turns at sour thoughts, at past memories. I got myself here, even if I don't know how, and I feel like I have to keep trucking on. I'm so lost, I don't even know if I'm driving anymore. Take the wheel, find my heart, take me where I want to go. Tell me you love me, hold me, and tell me everything will be okay. Tell me I'm crazy for being unhappy, tell me I don't have to be. Say anything, tell me anything, tell me what to do. I need you there, and I reach out and touch nothing. Take my hand, that's all I want.

I don't think I'll get what I want, I don't think what I'm looking for is there. It breaks me

23 1/2 years

I feel like I absolutely need to get this off my chest, one way or another, or I'll combust into a million pieces of confusion. To start off, I've been estranged from my sperm donor of a father and his family for over 7 years. And in those seven years, I've struggled, with a lot. Part of it was just life, and growing up, but most of it was coming to terms with what a father meant to me, why I didn't have one, and trying to understand his extremely perturbed and demented mind. 

The hardest part was wrapping my head around the idea you could just leave your child behind, in the dark, not knowing if they were happy, or homeless, or even dead. How you just carry on life as if your "donation" you made had no long-term repercussions or effects. And then, how you could do it two more times, to two more beautiful baby girls, with nothing but love and affection in their hearts; just wanting a mother and a father to feed them and bathe them, take them to school and tell them everything is going to be alright. How you walk around living your life like you are a good person, when all you do is go around literally ruining peoples lives, not just one, not just two, not just three, but everyone around. When you decided it would be a great idea to cheat on your wife dying of cancer, you completely lost all of what makes you a human being. When you decided you were blocking me on Facebook for telling her you were cheating and never talking to me again, that's when you lost your left-overs of a heart. Your path of pure destruction, your undeniable and disgusting selfishness, your lack of any notion you have any humanity left inside of you. You are loveless, you have no idea what the concept even is, you are alone and forever lost. You must be empty inside, you must be hollow from your pulmonary artery to your soul...if you have one. Laugh now while you can still keep your misery and guilt buried.  

Yes, there might still be hate. But I've turned the hate I had for him doing that to me, to hating him more to doing it to my two sisters, my life and blood, My baby girls, and leaving me to pick up your mess. My sweet darling baby girls, whom, thanks to you I couldn't have a relationship with. I literally had to track down court records to find one of my sisters mothers last name, to find her, to tell her I love her and I haven't ever let her go. And my other sister, I'll never know, her mother hated me and will do everything in her power to keep me away from her. Her hatred coming from when I was 13, hatred of a child just trying to do her best to keep alive. 

The donor was so awesome, he didn't pay a single dime to my mother for the first 15 years of my life. So when she went to court to get the back child support, the back medical bills, the back "thanks for taking care of my child I wanted nothing to do with"; I was given an ultimatum, tell my mother to cancel the law suit, or never speak to donors side of the family again. I was 15, may I remind you at the time, still a young girl...one with no such power to demand that from my mother, nor would that have been the right thing to do. They told me my mother was just being greedy, and "how can she do that to your father after being so good to you and trying his best. She tried to keep you away from him" they said, "She wouldn't let us see you, and that’s why he was never around, he tried to be a good father, and he did his best". Let's just call bs on this one, and I think we won the whole dam game. That bloody bastard needed to pay my mother every last dam cent he owed her, and so I made my choice. 

It's been over seven years, a long and trying seven years, to get to a place in my life where I know I have worth, I know that I should be loved, and I know how I should be loved. Where I can love back, with my entire heart and soul, and not be afraid I'm dating my image of my father. I've come a million miles from who I was, and where I was. I'm okay with never hearing his name again, I'm okay with him never knowing if I'm happy, or homeless, or alive. And I'm okay never knowing the same about him, and that goes for his enabling family as well. 

So don't call me when you are in the hospital just to hear from me 7 years later, as your last ditch effort not to enter the gates of hell. I won't call you when I'm on my death bed, I won’t call you when I get married, I won’t call you to come see your grandchildren, I won't call you at all. I'll let you leave every awful, abusive, and disgusting thing you did, in the past, where it belongs. That door is far closed, and it had to be, to actually live a life. You do the same for me, if you could ever do anything for me at all. 

This isn't about forgiveness, there is nothing to forgive. What happened in the past is what happened. I was a child at the time, and I've had to live with your choices...and now you do too. 

The Keys

Sometimes you just have to sit, maybe in your car, maybe at midnight with a glass of wine. Just sitting there, thinking about your life, why you got to this point, and where to go from here. Where do I go from here?

I get so lost, the trail far behind me. Sometimes I get so stuck. How did I get here? You got what you wanted, but this isn't really what you asked for. You can't look back, there is no where back to go. Your pride is so much of who you are, it defines your very actions. You've lost so much along the way, and you don't have much to account for now. Nothing more than broken hearts, and people left in the dust.

You died, because you where alone, but in fact you were never alone at all. You had everyone, and you had me, you always knew you had me. It never changed, I was always there, and you knew it, you knew that and you still were  so alone...so alone you had to leave us all. I should have given you a reason to stay, but I didn't know. I didn't know anything, though the signs where there.

I'm kept in tiny little boxes, such as a metaphor to my life. Put me in a box I stay there, it's the very foundation of my being, I put myself in a box. It's a cozy box, it keeps me at bay. I try so hard to remove myself from it, but no matter the distance I travel or the walls I change, it's still my box. I can't every leave even if it was the break of me.

You keep me in my box, physically shoving me in it. Closing the doors. Sometimes I'll forget about my box, and then you come and open the door, just to close it on me. Just to make it that much more noticeable I can never leave.

Choices

If being happy is a choice, I don't feel like I'm good at making choices lately. It seems strange to ignore the fact my relationship is changing, and growing out of the honeymoon phase. It's not fun anymore, you have to force it. Put a drink and a good location and it can be done....sometimes. He doesn't randomly let you know he loves you. Doesn't go out of his way to make your day. And if you are lucky, you won't fight. Lucky if you don't think the your world as you know it is slowly leaving.

You don't wake up to being held anymore, knowing the day is going to be fine just simply because he's there. Reality, is just that it is real life. To think you can live in fantasy every day for the rest of our life is absurd. You can pretend everything is okay all you want. It doesn't change anything.

It's a feeling of being somewhat cheated. You didn't call the bluff, and now your all in, about to loose the game, or just give up while you are still standing. You fell for something that wasn't there.

Now are you going to choose happiness? Being content with the change? It's a choice now, one you don't make a good bargain for. But I've come this far, and a lot more to loose than gain at this moment. It isn't the worst I've ever had...but doubtedly the best. And I'm one for striving

It's september

I was feeling tired. I was feeling under appreciated. And while I looked back at the start of our relationship, I see how much effort was put into it. How he picked me up on our first date, how we talked for hours, and laughed about every thing. How he texted me just to tell me nice things, things that made my day. How he made me feel like no one else in the world. How he brought me flowers, and surprised me constantly.

Every day I wake up, I want to do something for him, something to make his day. Something as simple as reaching out my had to pour more whisky. Making sure dinner is ready when he is home. Sending him notes at work. Making sure I have enough money to cover the bills. The list doesn't end, and it lengthens every day.

I don't feel compensated. Although I know I shouldn't be looking for it. But when you feel like your on a ship and only one side has all the cargo, when you are walking up to the other side and keep slipping down, down to all the weight the ship holds.

It's easy, in a way, to claim to feel unloved, knowing that isn't the case. Can I logically say I don't feel swept off my feet? Yes. Do I feel like I create these problems in my head, making them seem worse than they really are. My boat is not, in fact, sinking. Do I feel things could be done to make the situation a tad better? Of course.

When everything is perfect, and there are no surprises, and you are perfectly content having it be this way forever and always...and then it's not. You had promised you wouldn't change, but maybe the person I fell in love with, wasn't even you at all.

Today isn't a good day, feelings wise, for me. I'm lost and a little confused by my own thoughts and feelings. I want to feel comforted and consoled, and I'm not finding that.