Splinters

"I will always remember you
watching me walking away."
Meant by Elizaveta

"Your name is the splinter
inside me."
Joshua Radin


That last lyric
breaks me every
single time I hear it.
I know how that is.
I know what that is.
I live it, because there are splinters
and names inside me all day every day.
I'm sure some of these names know who they
are and there are others who know and don't care
and others still who never knew how much they became intrinsic
parts of me. I hold onto these names and I tell people that it is because
they make good stories, and I'm sure they do, just as I'm sure that I will tell
the stories one day, but the truth is, is that I've let these splinters stay, because the
pain of splinters stuck in my flesh is worth the remembrance of times past.

These splinters have sliced my hands when I slapped them
and became a part of me, sucked into my bloodstream
because when I was angry at them, they became intrinsic parts of me
how I remember and relate.
But now, where they came from is irrelevant to a certain degree because
there are now bits of wood and glass and steel, all with various names
and dates and deeds floating about it in my body
These are the prettiest and ugliest bits of me.
Splinters of people who touched me and set me on fire
and people who spoke words that remind me that family is choice
and that I will be loved despite the overwhelming prevalence of ugliness
that is inside of me.

There are splinters of people who
I text Thrift Shop lyrics to every other day
and see almost every Sunday
and people I talk to once every two months
and we are warriors and friends and sometimes
domestic as fuck and at other times we are gods of bagpipes and feminism
and splinters of a person I knew once all too well
but his god is not my own and I am broken in his eyes because
I do not believe that I need to be saved.
And splinters of people that are in the downward swing of our friendship
but because I know everything is a circle, they will swing upwards
and splinters of people who have been close to my heart
since I met them.
These splinters can be painful
but they bring so much beauty, that it is worth the pain.


On a sillier note, every time
Welcome to the Black Parade
comes on
I turn it off
unless it is just me listening to it.
There is the true confessions of my life.
And dancing around like a muppet is to this song
is one of them.

My Gift is my song (And this one's for you )

"Every word you say, I think
I should write down
Don't want to forget come daylight."

"I should know who I am by now."

~Joshua Radin

Once upon a time
a few mistakes ago
a manboychildthing wrote to me and said
I really thought he was gonna grab my hand, pull me close and threaten to rip my soul in half."
It continues to be the funniest thing
I have ever read. Just looking at it makes me
want to howl. My poor dad.

He told me that I was Sybilla
and Vesper Lynn.
And we determined that I was a goddess.
Once, we prayed together and
I saw things for weeks after
in the air and water and mirrors
and there was power there.

We were heinous at times to each other
I scratched him so hard, I drew blood and left scars
His sister once tore his shirt because she didn't want us dating.
I slapped him. He didn't sit next to me during key events and
during our prom, the teachers made fun of the fact that my main rival
for his affections was his best male friends.
I'm pretty sure at one point I tried to set him on fire
He tickled me during class so I screamed during ridiculous moments
and would NOT let me play with his calculator.
He was mean to me about being catholic
and I to him about absolutely everything.
He once wrote
You literally are the worst thing to happen to any human being whatsoever and the greatest pox on men. And quite honestly you don't offer very much to anyone, but I still love you.
I have never been so pissed in my life.



I've never forgotten those words.


We were friends long before anything ever happened.
It was like a violent sort of friendship, one that revolved around
antagonistic behavior and being frustrated and tired all the time,
a common thread in many a high school setting.
There were times, though, that I was so fucking proud of him
I could have screamed it to the rooftops.
I hate the word lame
and he used it around me frequently just to make me crazy.
Senior year he sat behind me in English every other semester
and said the most random inane shit I've ever heard in my life
and got me in trouble all the time for baiting me into talking to him.
He also once called me a cold tamale.

We had the best banter of anyone.
We were harsh and cruel and I had teachers ask
why we hung out if we were so mean to each other
but there were lovely parts too, parts where we supported and
comforted and loved, things that I remember more than the time he told me
that he didn't care.
That we weren't real.
I was so rage-filled at times
and he was there, like a wall
and he took it and dealt with it
and I found that infinitely fascinating.
We publicly yelled at each other
but if I ever make it to the top of the Tower
I will shout his name.

When we liked each other we were bad
and when we didn't, we were worse
and we pissed off teachers with our physicality
whether we were kissing or just shoving each other
down the hallway, it was like watching a forest burn.

At the same time, he was stone
and I was water.
I could crack him and break him or nurture him and love him
but he was still there.
I once told him I was not an option, I was a priority.

When we broke up,
when I destroyed him, because what else could I do
but burn and main and kill
what I loved?
What else does a goddess do but demand sacrifice
from the ones that love her?




But now I am no longer the Lord his God(dess)
and I am less angry
and somewhat less destructive
and perhaps, perhaps, perhaps
there could be beauty in the friendship
because more than I miss the worship,
I miss laughing with him every day
and knowing he got what I was saying.


Therefore, as friends
we shall be again.
maybe
possibly
probably
definitely.

Ouch my heart

Music by Joshua Radin
is the most melancholy of music
and every time I hear it
I feel my stomach start to hurt.
I love it and it is so raw and beautiful

I always forget that it seems to be specifically
designed to hurt me when I hear it
that there are corners of my heart that crumple into
themselves when I hear the voice
and the sounds
because even if all I have is beautiful
sometimes all I hear is
"I could lost myself in the rough
blue waters of your eyes and I
miss you still."

And then I have to put something else on
because ouch my heart