Dead End-It's a Personal Jot Down

This is unlike most of the posts I write, but I was feeling inspired today.

Some people spend days upon days, years upon years, looking for that one special person that will complete them. That one person they can't live without. The singular being that will make them wake up every morning and be happy to be alive.
I'd like to say I  was a skeptic to "true" love. I was amongst those that believed in love but never believed it would happen to me. Or maybe it was that I thought everyone was never destined to be with only one other person. That they're were many people for everyone. If one person didn't work out, you dusted yourself off and moved on to the next best thing.
I still believe in this methodology. In a sense. There's those that lose their other half and decide when the best time is to move on. No one should spend the rest of their lives longing for someone they can never have back. A person is lucky to find true love once, never mind time and time again.
Anyways back to the purpose of this post, to jot down a bit of my personal life. I was the typical teenager, believing my "highschool sweetheart" (even though he was five years past high school! lol!) would end up being my one and only. In fact I was so convinced, I moved in with him and gave my whole self to him. Little did I know, that wasn't what real love was. I ended up changing into someone I found that I didn't recognize anymore. I had to work so hard at making him happy and myself happy at the end of the day, just to finally realize that neither of us were really happy when we went to sleep at night. One day, I made the drastic decision to move out of his house and end the relationship, and bought a one way ticket to New York. (I didn't end up going, but that's another blog entirely. Which can conveniently be read here http://huntinghobbits.blogspot.com/2011/06/dear-new-york.html

After my aunt passed away (who you can also read about in my previous posts) a part of myself died right along with her. My Ex would try his hardest to make me happy in my times of sadness, but I never felt complete. I always felt like I could never really be content or happy because that part of her that had filled my heart was now missing.
And that's when I met Charles.
Our meeting was one to be laughed at, through a friend on facebook and unintentionally. Being both shy and a bit introverted, I never opened up to anyone. And he was definitely not my "type" (although, I can never remember really having a type haha.) To be blunt, he was loud, obnoxious, full of himself, and a HUGE flirt. Haha! It still makes me laugh today that such different people were able to cross paths at just an off chance.
But we started talking and literally couldn't stop. A few weeks later we met for the first time, and that night was the first of the rest of my life. It seemed as if Charles and I had known each other in perhaps another life, or we had been destined to meet. Something of that philosophical nature! Haha! That night I told him things I  had never told anyone else, and he did the same with me. It seemed as if we had not just barely found each other, it just seemed as if we had found each other again.
The next couple months, we continued to be friends. Being an avid believer that true love rarely occurred, let alone at a fast rate, I lied to myself. Telling myself he was like any other guy that would come and go. But, as evidence of the past nine months has proven, I'm pretty sure he's not going anywhere. And for the first time, I actually believe a guy when he says he's going to stick around.
I never thought that I would be able to describe my perfect match, but now I can eagerly do so. It's someone who will take care of me, but is smart enough to know that I'd rather take care of myself. Someone who will let me be independent but catch me when I stumble over my stupid mistakes. Someone who will jump head first in with me over and over again, no matter how many times we crash and burn. A man who will never tire of my constant chatter (and believe me I talk ALOT) and someone who will argue WITH me instead of against me and someone who will stick up for himself even though it'd be easier to just agree with me. But most of all, someone I'd actually say "yes" to when they ask to marry me. And Charles is all these things and more.
I'm not one to let my feelings show or share my emotions often, even with my fiance. I've always thought that being strong meant not losing control of where my heart takes me. But for the first time, here I am. Letting who ever and their mother who may read this blog see how I feel about someone personal in my life. And for once, I don't care!
So to Charles, I'd just like to say thanks. For showing me that I could trust after being let down so many times, by both people I thought I loved and friends. For loving me for who I am instead of trying to make me into what you might've been looking for. For sticking by me even though I can be insecure and headstrong. For teaching me that I can love another person as much as they love me, and finally letting myself be weak around them. For letting your pride go, so that I could let mine go, and we could be real with one another. Thank you for bringing happy tears to my eyes again and again.
But most of all, I'm happy my aunt has sent you to me. Since you've come into my life, the emptiness that left my heart sorrowful is now filled with the love you've given me and continue to give me every day. I hope I never have to feel that emptiness again, and I hope I can bring you the same amount of happiness you bring me.
So for me, my love life has come to a dead end. But not one of those dead ends you accidentally end up having to turn around, retrace your path and find the actual place you're supposed to be. It's one of those stops were you get out of your car and take a breather, letting the surroundings engulf you. Content of where broken roads and wrong directions have brought you.
To everyone who has yet to find their dead end, take some turns of faith and u-turns of screw ups until you do find it. You'll be surprised how good it feels to stretch your legs after a bumpy trip.

Untitled

It's a little rough, bear with me.


She laid in bed face down. Ignoring the noises and lights from outside, the girl tried to force herself to sleep. Midnight crept closer and closer, its darkness enveloping the little town. The young woman tossed and turned, threw the blanket off and on, but to no avail. Finally, she sat up and exhaled dramatically. Deciding she would be unable to fall asleep, she decided to take a quick walk around the house.
Now, to the typical person this may sound odd. Someone walking around a pitch-black house in the middle of the night, exhaust-ridden and a little dazed; but this was a nightly routine for her. The three other occupants of the house, her parents and older sister, slept upstairs with closed doors in order to keep the sounds of her stomping feet at bay.
She checked outside the shades and made sure all the windows and doors were locked. After making sure the house was satisfyingly secure, she tiptoed back to her room and shut the door. Off came the slippers and there she went jumping into bed. But she did not lay down. Instead she sat straight up, listening and waiting. That's when she heard it.
For the past year of her life, she had heard the same raucous over and over. A knock on a far window, then on another, and another. Until finally it would arrive at her own. A soft...pit pit patter patter. Then it would circle the house again. Pit pit patter patter. And on and on it would go until soft rays of sunshine would begin to hit her lavender comforter. Only then would the girl be able to sleep.
Her parents could find no solution. They took her in for psychiatric help, thinking maybe the stress of adolescents was taking it's toll on the then pre-teen girl. Doctor after doctor had different diagnoses and different treatment. Medication didn't work, the girl would still sit awake at night, telling the parents and sister of the pit pit patter patter only her ears could hear. Then therapy came along, but the girl would go in again and again, exclaiming she just wanted to sleep. That the pit pit patter patter was real.
Finally, at a loss for options, the family decided to uproot and move away. 40 miles and a new mortgage later, the family was in a different house. The first couple years after the move, the girl slept soundly, the pit pit patter patter far behind her, in both time and distance. Then one night, while relaxing for sleep, she heard the all to familiar noise. When she told her parents they banished her downstairs, telling her that she was now old enough to deal with her childish fears.
It was a year since the noise had returned. The girl would try to reason with herself, thinking it was all in her head. Some nights she would race to keep up with the noise, only to find when she reached the window the noise was coming from, there was no one looking back at her but her own reflection. She'd touch the glass, astounded at how she could be so crazy, and so sane at the same time.
So the night before this one, she had tried something new. She didn't get out of bed and she didn't sit straight up as she usually would. Instead, she laid very still, eyes closed. Acting as if she was asleep, but with a wide-awake mind. She knew she couldn't be crazy, that whoever she heard must have been following her during childhood, and returned this last year to continue his stalking plans. Tonight there was only one difference in the house. She had left her curtains slightly opened.
At a little past midnight, the pit pit patter patter began. She listened carefully, counting each window as it was passed. One...two...before she knew it she was at window fourteen. Slightly opening an eye, she waited for the stalker to confront her window, count fifteen. With a mixture of anticipation, anger, and fear, she stared and stared at that sliver of glass exposure. And that's when she saw her tormentor. Little did she know, they had seen her watching.
Tonight, she sat up in bed, alert and afraid to sleep. Fear swallowed her whole as a cold sweat developed upon her brow. She cowered under the covers, double checking to make sure her door was locked and the curtains securely shut. That's when an unfamiliar sound filled the air.

Click. click. Click.

A shudder fell over her. She recognizes the click noise all to well. The front door being unlocked, opened, and then shut. Closing her eyes, she began to reason with herself. What she lost last night would have no concept of how to unlock a door, would it? Could her sister barely be getting in? Had her parents snuck out for a late date night?
She reached for her cell and dialed her sister's number. Crossing her fingers that she could possibly still be awake, she heard the girl answer. Before the sister could start to yell about how late it was or how soundly she was sleeping, the girl whispered into her ear...to run to their parents room and lock the door behind her. Then call 911. The sister hung up, deducting that the girl was having one of her childish fantasies again.

clunk. clunk. clunk. clunk.

Heavy footsteps upon the stairs. She called her sister again, and before the other girl could speak, she begged her again to rush to the parents room.
"He's coming, he's coming. He's coming for you"
The sister heard the urgency in the girl's voice and decided to appease her fears for a night. She hung up the phone. The girl listened for the thumping of running steps on the floor above her own, but they never came. All she heard was the clunk...clunk..clunk. Of someone going up the stairs, and down the stairs, over and over again.
Finally the noises ended. The girl heard the front door open, close, and lock from the outside. Shaking from fear, she rose from her bed and stumbled to the door. Only now did she notice her sweat stained sheets and her newly bitten down finger nails. Nerves had gotten the best of her, and she thought maybe this all really could be in her head.
She looked at the clock and saw that it was 4:00 A.M. A safe enough time she supposed, so she wrapped herself in a robe and emerged from her room. She was met by the house just as she had left it. The curtains firmly over the windows and the front door locked. She walked quietly up the stairs to her parents room. After opening the door and seeing for herself that they were safely sleeping in bed, she continued to her sister's room.
'Maybe I am just crazy,' she thought to herself.
The door to her sister's room was open. Odd, considering she always slept with it closed. The girl looked inside and saw her sister stuff under the covers. Just to reassure herself, she walked to the edge of the bed and poked her foot. But there was no foot. She then proceeded to poke her leg, then stomach. But all of these body parts were missing. She ripped the blankets off, and realized someone had replaced her sister with pillows.
The girl began to hyperventilate, the room spinning and her mind crashing slowly. She ran to her parents room, throwing the door open and ripping their covers off as well. Pillows replaced where their warm bodies should've been.
She collapsed to the floor, unable to comprehend what was going on. She heard the noise...pit pit, patter patter. She looked at the clock , hoping for a time that would indicate sunshine. But all she read was: 2:21 A.M. Her jaw dropped. Had she not read her clock correctly? Maybe she was dreaming, maybe her parent's clock was wrong, maybe this was her family playing a mean trick on her. Whatever was happening, she wanted no part of it.

Clunk.Clunk.Clunk.

She flew across the room and slammed the door shut, locking it with the old key her parents kept on the bedside table. She heard the foot steps creep closer and closer. The girl shrank up against the wall and closed her eyes, for once wishing that perhaps she was insane. Maybe this was all part of her mind and it would go away. Her parents would yell at her for waking them up and being ridiculous. She'd be forced to return to her isolated downstairs bedroom, and she'd wait for sunlight so she could finally sleep.

The foot steps arrived outside the door, and the knob slowly turned. The key unlocked the door from the inside, so the unwelcome guest could continue to open it. Although she knew she'd regret it, she had to open her eyes. She had to see what was coming for her.

When she opened her eyes, she saw nothing. The door was still locked, the covers on her parents' bed were still thrown back, and she was still curled up against the wall. She frowned at her ignorance and looked around the room for a hint of something different. She found nothing. With that, she slowly crawled to the closet and shut the door behind her. Even if she was going crazy, it made her feel better at least.

She leaned back against her parent's clothes, and suddenly there was someone wrapping their arms around her. She screamed and flung herself forward through the doors, lunging towards the bedroom door so she could try to escape. The hands gripped for her feet and ankles, dragging her back towards the closet. She clawed at the hardwood floors, crying in both agony and fear. The hands clawed their way up her calves and thighs, gripping her sides and flipping her over.
She stared into the emptiness. Into every fear she'd ever known of the night. She scratched into the creatures body and face, screaming for help and mercy. It smelled at her neck and chest, shuddering with the scent of her flowing through it's nasty veins.
"What are you?! What do you want?!" she yelled at it, squirming to get out of its grip and continuing to kick and claw at the beast.
"We're the things of thrown out souls!"

With that, the monstrosity of human creation towered above her, with its' dark, dirty fur glistening in the moonlight and blood fresh upon its calloused human hands. And never knowing what the creature was or what his words meant, she was ripped to shreds and strewn across the house. The creature rolled in her blood like a vicious dog, keeping its fur shiny and its senses ready.

And in a psychiatric ward 20 miles away, there was a schizophrenic screaming in his room, waking the other patients and causing havoc.
"The monster! He's gotten her! My monster has gotten her!"
The doctors dismiss it as another episode and continue on. Cause all of "these" types of patients create beings that aren't real. Little do they know, the crazies of the world hold the keys to all the things under our beds, hidden in the dark, and pit pit pattering outside our windows. The girl and her family were just too sane enough to see the creature that had come for them.

Life's too short.

I've heard the saying "Life's to short" since I was old enough to start making my own decisions. Do this, do that, life's to short! A few months ago, someone told me they didn't understand this standard piece of advice. Why? Because 'life is the longest thing you'll ever do'.
Why hadn't anyone thought of this before? And if they had, why had everyone left me out of the loop?
I'll be 20 in two weeks, finally out of my teens years and past the age where I can make excuses for why I can't do something or why I don't chase dreams or aspirations. But really, how is anyone supposed to go off and chase ANYTHING these days? Everyone is barely trying to keep their heads above water, trying to find the good amongst the hard and bad.
Then you have the people who tell you to stop complaining. You don't have it that bad, someone has it worse then you, ect. ect. But while your in that moment, drowning from all the thoughts in your mind and all the pressures of that moment, you're not thinking about everyone else and how they have it bad. You're thinking about yourself and how you have it bad.
Bad things happen to good people. Millions die everyday, and millions are born. We rejoice in birth but push our planet to the brink. Work hard and you'll still get ripped off, by your present employer or later by social security. Millions of people spend their lives working 40+ hours a week and for what? To live a depressing life as an elderly person with loads of regrets and little experiences. Along with only a little bit of money.
I'm a positive person typically. I believe in bad people that can change and everything will eventually work itself out. That you have to hit rock bottom before you know how "good" you can have it. But, sometimes even the most positive person in the world has to say every once in awhile "there's things in my life that really fucking suck." Dwell on it awhile, then you move on.
So with my 20th birthday approaching and the beginning of the new year, I've decided to create the infamous "Bucket List." Might as well do something with myself, life is the longest thing I'm ever going to do.

Compromise

Lovers break hearts and obstacles break spirits
Mazes are meant to confuse, while life is built brick by brick
A brick of apathy, then a brick of rage. And brick by brick we go.
The maze is full of twists and turns
Small holes to squeeze in and flood gates to open and swim through
Dead ends, tight turns, dropped floors, and broken reflections.
Mazes intersect, passing people...pass, pass, pass
And sometimes people stick together for years, just to split apart
Going into opposite directions to face challenges of their own
Voices that belong to faces you can never see

And when does this maze end?
Or is it simply the infinite labyrinth of life?
When can we choose to simply walk away, forget the bricks we've spent so long laying?
Perhaps only when we are at peace with ourselves, even while at odds with others
Maybe the bricks will just come crashing down
Demolished by the ease of understanding.

The entrance could still remain, all the bricks in it's wake to be rebuilt
All the tears of pain and happiness in the form of buckets of gluey plaster
Used to piece this life back together
What is one to do?

For you, I'll never know. But for me, I'll never piece that maze back together.
I'll turn the other direction, whether it is into a desert with mirages of false promises.
Or a fun house of mirrors that makes me face my insecurities day in and day out.
I may be hallucinating and thirst-stricken in the desert
Alternatively, crazy and broken down in the fun house

But in the end
In the fog of a mirage or the reflection of a mirror
I'll see the person who has stuck by my side and never compromised.
Myself.

Dealing With Dawns

To every day, there is a new beginning.
A beginning that is simple and sweat
The friendly gesture to a neighbor or morning coffee
One feeling of completeness or lack of sorrow
Worries are somewhere far from mind
Peace fills us to the brim, overflowing to the people around us.

And in a perfect world every day would begin this way
But people and fate contribute to what is known as a far from perfect planet.
These days people wake to arguing, to buzzing alarm clocks or unwelcome sun.
We sit up in our beds and stress suffocates our new beginnings
Thoughts of losses, struggles, and tasks consumes us

Insecurities and burdens are heavy on our shoulders as we go through our morning routines
Zombies to the modern world and the negativity that surrounds it

Whole days are contributed to these monsters
The creatures that creep up during snapshots of happiness
As a whole we never imagined our parents being right about the boogey-man in the closet or the monster under the bed
Yet here we all are, combating these beings everyday of our lives.
And not until we are old and grey do we realize we are only fighting ourselves.

I'm not afraid to admit
I look into the mirror and see all of these demons trying to over take me.
Sometimes getting out of bed is the hardest thing to do, and the whole day is designated to these demons.
I may hide it with work or smiles, reading and writing, but deep down everyone is battling.
Whether these demons are big or small.

Every night I awake having thoughts upon thoughts, stress upon stress.
And although I cannot see it, I feel the warmth of the sun enter my window.
As I lay there from lack of sleep and a tired mind,
All I ask of myself is for a good and steady day.

In reality, every human being wakes up hoping for something along these lines.
Easy, happy, simple, sweet.
A day with no duties, a day alone, a day to have someone back that you've lost.
But all of these desires are just too far away...so we wait for the next day
Another day for us all to make a deal with the dawn.

Roads

When my cousin was 19, I promised her a poem or short story of sorts as a 20th birthday present. (Yes, I prefer home made gifts, though we all know store bought ones are much faster! Haha) So, even though I'm a few years late (whoops) I decided that I should probably just get around to it. So Lyndsay, I wrote this in the form of a shoulder to lean on. I hope it will bring you comfort whenever your stumbling through the journey of life.

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Roads

The best aspect of a road is the adventure or familiarity they can portray

Roads to new lives or new people
A road to one's favorite spot, another that leads to home sweet home
Whether these paths are straight or topsy-turvy
Smooth as ice cold water or pothole boulevard
We travel with the knowing of a pleasant arrival
Using maps for some
Memory for others

But for every rainbow, there is also the storm.
It's how the world was constructed
Even all these roads

Roads on the sides of cliffs
Covered in snow
Plastered in mud
And even though we gotta get to where we gotta go
We're gripping the steering wheel and controlling cartwheels in our stomachs

Then there's the endless ones.
The ones that you drive down for hours and hours
Looking side to side, Driving through towns
Or maybe driving through nothing at all

Just fields upon fields
Nodding off from the dullness of your surroundings
Perhaps stuck with thoughts you've been pushing to the back of your mind
Coaxed out from the lack of stimulation around you

There's the dips you can't see and the weather you can't predict
People walking in and out of view
So you have to keep swerving and swerving
Braking and braking
The urge to pull over and rest
Call someone to drive the rest of way, or just come pick you up.
Maybe the desire to lock the doors and just walk away

All the people you call for help
The ones you just need to hear "It'll be alright, just keep on keepin' on" from
Others who you've called to come fix your car or change a tire
In the end you realize who will go the extra mile for you
And the ones who simply make excuses or ignore the call

With all of these uncertainties and insecurities,
It's a wonder we don't all board up our windows
Sell our cars
Turn in our shoes for slippers
But there's moments that make even the worst roads bearable

Turning the volume up on old-time favorites
Falling asleep in the passenger's seat, the wind teasing your cheeks and the sun keeping you warm
Waking up to nature conditioned hair and a California tan
Classic games like slug bug and I spy,
Kids laughing, pointing out silly stuff they spy outside the window

I spy, I spy
A bright shiny sun on the horizon, as blinding and hot as you like it
Kids sleeping in the backseat
Listening to the songs that have made so many memories for the both of us
Looking out the window, as trees make way for the barren fields of California
Holding the hand of the man you love

I spy, I spy
Rainy weather and a depressed looking sky
Bags of clothes hanging out in duffel bags
Rocking out to ACDC
Drinking cup upon cup of coffee
Leading me to the forested border of  Oregon
Holding tight to thoughts of hugging you.

Sometimes these paths aren't what we've been expecting
The detours are mostly long, the two way streets far and inbetween
But.
No matter the bends or curves
Nights, Days, Bumps, or Dips
I know a road that will always be true
And that's the road between me and you.

Dear New York

 Oh my dear dear New York,

I have been earnestly avoiding this goodbye for months now.  But my stubborn spirit is finally folding.
In less the a month, I should've been walking along your sidewalks, feeling your nastily humid air (lol) and dragging my luggage in your train station. July 4 was supposed to be my ultimate independence day. But alas, life never waits for ones dreams or loves. So I must bid you farewell.
I'll continue to only imagine being far from here, free from these responsibilities but burdened by many others. I wont be able to enjoy your snow-ridden streets, slipping and falling on my ass. Laughing but pissed at the same time. Leaving my loved truck Lucinda behind, trading it instead for the two shoes on my feet. Won't be able to see all the trees that would've surrounded me. The experience of living with a crap load of room mates...or rather dealing with them...is out of reach now.
You, my dear friend, were so close to the grasp of reality. I think after everything I've been through this year: Being let down and letting go. Breaking up and losing. Not being able to fulfill you has been my ultimate source of heartbreak.
People keep telling me I have held false hope in you and all that you have to offer me.. Who knows. I could've moved up there and been miserable. Scraped up the little money I earned to walk the road of shame all the way back to California. Those same people now tell me that I'll have another chance..someday. But these reassurances fall on deaf ears. I needed the new beginning you had to offer me now. And now all that I have given up has been in vain. I have simply been burdened by more.
I hope you and I are able to cross paths one day, my dream is high but my logic is doubtful. If only I could hold the hand of  this which I want so much....but no.
I'll continue to google you and see you on the television. Hear stories of you by word of mouth. Listen to music blaring your name and all the wonderful things you could've offered me. And I'll do all of this from my California room. And soon enough my own place...hopefully.
My heart is where you are, even though I am 3000 miles away.
Your almost lover, Brit.