At Least I Had Love Letters To Rip Through

I’ve had a hard time finding time to write on this blog and I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve lost a bit of inspiration or if it really is because senior year is wrestling me to the ground. Either way, a new commitment (mentally and now electronically) has been made to bring back the effort to this site.

I wrote this at 1 am last night while laying in bed.

I have found that writing through my emotions and pain (however long and grueling a process this is) has been the best way to deal with what I go through. It’s kind of insane how I can feel so incredibly content until I am exhausted at home from the day and have to sort through this mess of whatever I’m feeling.

Sometimes I get jealous of those who aren’t emotional at all.

Then again, they probably wouldn’t write anything like this…

I ripped through your words tonight.

I was waiting to burn them but I couldn’t wait anymore. 

I ripped every picture and bribed my heart.

I told it that if I could make it through this moment without a single tear that I was stronger than I thought.

And I didn’t cry.

I wanted to. I wanted to read every word one more time and then hide them in a corner just to know that I wasn’t dreaming what I thought I had. 

But I ripped through them instead because I knew that I wanted love back, not you.

I ripped through diaries and stories and I love yous gone to hell.

I ripped through ticket stubs and anniversary cards and I took them straight to the dumpster in the pouring rain. 

But you know what? At least I know what it’s like to have love letters. 

But I don’t ever want to know what they said anymore.

And as I walked back up the stairs to my apartment door, damp from the rain, my head became light and I fell onto my bed.

For a night, I could finally breathe. 

And if you see me as weak, pathetic-you name it. I am far from every single one of those words.

I am worth more than dead poetry and used to bes.

I am more than false hope and biased memories. 

Last night, before I ripped through the past, I reached the end of my rope.

I want you to know I felt so awful, I would have done anything to get the crushing weight on my chest flown off of me. 

But I couldn’t think of  a single thing. 

It was crushing and suffocating.

Until I ripped through those memories. 

Every single rip rang in my ears and put something back together.

Every tear of another page made my heart ice over the searing heat that had left me so angry.

Tonight- I felt something that I haven’t felt in a really long time. 

Not closure, not a heart beating anew, not healing… I felt myself inch forward.

A fraction of an inch that I took so proudly that I can’t bear to tell you how destroyed I had to be to get here. 

These tiny inches are battles that I am fighting every single day and to tell you that I’m okay or that everything happened like it was supposed to would be a lie. 

Every day, every hour feels different. 

But my god, that fraction of an inch felt so good. 

Until Next Time,

Anna Marie

The Terror of Leaving Home

11373964_164868337184836_54135550_nIts scary isn’t it?

You’re used to the way your bed fits in your room, the weird quirks of the microwave and the neighbors surrounding you.

You’re used to the neighbors and the dog that is constantly barking.

And now you want to move somewhere new. 

Why?

Maybe it’s the memories you have in this town or maybe you’ve just outgrown it’s borders.

Maybe you crave a new lifestyle or different weather.

Maybe you want to move to the mountains or the oceans.

There really is many reasons why you can love your home so much but still want to leave.

I’ve been fighting with this dilemma for a while now.

And to be honest, I don’t know if I want to stay because I’m scared, realizing I could really have some great opportunities here or just terrified of leaving my family.

On the other end, I don’t know if I want to leave because I’m running from something, naive or in love with the idea of starting over in a place I choose as everything I want out of a home.

It’s terrifying and exhilarating.

I have nothing and no one holding me back and that is the beauty and danger of being on your own.

You get to decide exactly what you want to do and it’s a lot of pressure when it comes down to it.

I have 9 months to decide where I’ll go and I don’t have any idea what my decision is yet although I’m leaning.

I’ve wanted to leave for even just a couple years, ever since I was little. I’ve wanted to go anywhere different from where I have been.

I think, but I’m not sure, that it is what I truly need to do. Maybe.

This plan has changed and twisted several times due to people and experiences and that’s okay, but now that I can dwell on me, myself and I, the clock is ticking.

I’ve grown a beautiful cocoon in this place I call home, but I think it may be time for me to spread my wings and fly somewhere else.

After all, I can always fly home.

Until tomorrow,

Anna Marie