San Diego

Thinking of you laughing with her gets me through.

Quitting

I haven't had a cigarette in 21 days.

I need to quit you with the same conviction, without giving in for alcohol or boredom or loneliness. For stress, for anger, for heartache.

I've quit you innumerable times, letting the gentle and oh-so-subtle tug of your attention lure me back in. Why can't I muster the anger I harbor when I know you're with her when you look me in the eyes? When you moan in my ear? Why do I allow your kiss to electrify and deceive and control me?

You are a chase and, while thrilling, I'm just so tired of running. I've got to know, deep down, that you aren't the one. Though, against my own advice, I cannot stop thinking of our forever.

I quit cigarettes. I can...I will quit you.

Straight Up

Tonight I drank my brandy straight up.

It's warm. The feeling in my belly offsets the icy piercing of our last goodbye.

You'll find happiness. Hell, I probably never made you lose it. I, on the contrary, haven't had a strong sense of self or persistent peace of mind since you made your way into my bedroom.

You will find someone to walk through this life with. I will (and, probably, rightfully so) likely walk alone.

She will be beautiful. She will be kind. She will love you as I have. But, she will know what it's like to have her love returned.

What Call?

I've been putting out some fucked up vibes into the universe over the last few years.

Karma isn't real. It's cause and effect.

You are the effects of my actions.

You are a liar.

You are a user.

You are my everything.

You are lucky that I'm not the girl I once was.

Goddamn Wizards

You have got to be a motherfucking wizard.

How can you turn off what I do to your heart? I breathed and ate and slept and craved and cried and wanted you. How can you resist me so?

For years I'd been in control of my emotions. Never giving more than what little it takes to appear at peace, worrying only when my own selfish needs weren't met.

And then you.

You saunter into my life, smelling of forever and fucking me to tears. Do you mean to tell me you felt nothing? You didn't begin to yearn for me a fraction of the way I did for you?

I haven't been here in three uneventful years. And now? Now this is my love letter to you.

I only wanted you to want me.

Lost Where I Belong

It seems that I found this album that the perfect time. I'd heard snippets of Andreya Triana's voice against the backdrop of other artists, but'd never realized her worth as a soloist. Her voice gives me the feeling of sitting in a dimly lit, smoke-filled lounge pawing at the one I want. Her lyrics are anything but shallow and, from what I understand, completely self written.

Aside from being stunningly beautiful, she is a singer-songwritter that you can appreciate anytime, anywhere.

And now, back to sadness. Merry Christmas.

Sweet Baby

Oh, shit. I've caught the baby bug.

I spent a weekend with the cuuuuutest fucking two-year-old ever. Ever.

Complete with tummy rubbing and Barney watching and diaper changing and tantrum mitigating, I'm hooked. I want to be a mom. I'm a natural. Candace love the kids.

I knew when I figured that her juice had too high a sugar content that I was made for this. My mom, also a natural at nurturing, obviously passed this sweet gene on to me. I was born for motherhood. I could make the next president. Maybe not. I'm too liberal and artsy for that shit. Still. I could make a pretty well-to-do motherfucking human.

I'm vulgar and lost and self defecating, but goddamnit, I can love. And what else does a little future need besides love?