Perhaps Happiness and Heartbreak

Perhaps happiness and heartbreak happen. Always. Together, or in ravaging separations.

This little suite I call home is full of loneliness and love. I will miss nights, second-hand sheets and pasta covered in cheese. Putting on a blazer and pretending to be the sort of person who carries business cards. Falling asleep on the couch to the sound of you struggling with a paper.

That's still away, I know. So this summer I'll lie in your arms in a yellow school bus, it's smell reminiscent of street Spanish and truck stops. And I'll sleep here by myself, on my side. cradling a new life growing inside.

It will be happiness and heartbreak. And maybe both together.

((Creotiv))

People

Brilliant. I got married and quit blogging. I'm a blogging statistic.

 I started out as a single blogger who read other single bloggers.

In all fairness, I was slowing down pretty good long before the conflict-free, recycled diamond ring.

I'm pretty sure I'll never write a Christian-wife blog or a mommy blog. But I guess you never know. A year ago I decided to pursue travel writing. And then I got married instead. I went to Australia, then took a couple courses and started writing full-time. Just not here. I love my job, but I think it hurt my love for rambling posts and Because or Why Not. Who knows what next year will bring.

Now at least three of my RL single friends have started marvellous travel blogs as they start changing the world in Uganda and the Philippines, or just explore the globe on their own terms.

I'm posting this because I still read your blogs. I do. Allison, Tabs, Risha, Alex... Sometime only every few months. But 20sb still taught me to care about people I've never met.

Google Reader is leaving us in July. And then I'm turning 27.

I miss this, but you can't have it all.

I will find a way to continue stalking reading your blogs.

And, Risha. How'd you do on 101? I thought it ended in April, only to find my cut-off was January. I will be making a new list this summer.

Office Wear Conundrum

What does a twenty-five year old, part-time tomboy even wear to the office? Shockingly, this was about my biggest concern. I went to the interview in black skinny jeans and a blue cable-knit sweater over a ribbed tank-top. To be fair, I didn't understand that it was supposed to be the official interview.

I'd never filled out a personality quiz for a job before. Is that standard procedure these days?

My second worry? That being a full-time student with a part-time job would ruin the rest of this experience, not to mention my relationship. Oh, it would be fine at first, but you probably know what it's like when deadlines and finals come around.

When I was seventeen my mother told me to apply at the bank. I realized that days in pumps and pinstriped pants would kill me.

Yesterday I visited my farm. I let the calves suck my fingers and showed my boyfriend around our tri-sided parlour. I was a different person back then. But, more than that... I think... was that I was living one part of me. I can't do everything.

So now, I have a desk, and a mac, and staff meetings. I still wear jeans. Sometimes even hiking boots. I was pleased to learn that my co-workers never wear heels or blouses. A few visits to the op shops, and I'm set to go with some cleaned up shirts and a pair of flats. I dropped two courses. Because school was supposed to be fun. Life matters.

I'm not sure how being a staff-writer and editorial contributor will fit me, but I'm excited to find out. Maybe one day I'll visit to show my kids around, and marvel that I was once this person. Meanwhile, the challenge will be enough to keep me around, for the first time in a while. I'll be pretending I know what I'm doing and that I'm quite used to this person.

And if you have any insight, I'm still open to ideas for what 25 year old, part time tomboys should be wearing to the office.

I'm not particularly fond of new years resolutions. Kind of hit and miss, depending on the circumstances. I do, however, like to use the new year for a little bit of introspection. This year, however, I haven't had the chance 'till now. I was tucked away at a refreshing winter camp. Then I was rushing home to rush through packing to rush back here to this mini-city. And, now, in the dying minutes of the third day of the new year, I want to think about the year past. I'm not particularly fond of memes, either. But every now and then I find one that's worth it.

What was 2011 for you?

1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?

I travelled north into the territories.

I learned to rock climb, ice climb, and I repelled off a bridge.

I went to regular full-time class for a full semester.

I was part of a quality music recording.

I volunteered at a camp.

I made gnocchi.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

There were none, but I knocked a few off my 101. There won't be any this year, either.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Yes, Jenni had another beautiful baby girl. One of my best friends and closest relatives is also due very soon!

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No. A plight I've mostly been saved from so far in my young life.

5. What countries did you visit?

The US of A. 2011, you have not been a good travelling year...

6. What would you like to have had in 2011 that you lacked in 2010?

A fulfilling job. And, in a sense, I did. But it was part time writing and other freelancing. The full time stuff was duller than dishwater.

7. What dates from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory and why?

Actual dates? Sitting through the night listening to hippis play guitar, sing French folk songs, and dance around the fire, and tentatively holding hands. It will be remembered fondly.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Four A+s, and an A, mastering freelance, and learning to love.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Breaking a heart, not maintaining all the right friendships, working through summer.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Nothing serious. 

11. What was the best thing you bought?

The very best? Perhaps my motorbike... Good times were had!

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

My siblings. All of them. I wish I could tell you how each has grown. How they've supported me. How I've loved them, even though we may fight on occasion.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

There was some unfortunate summer drama. I made some poor decisions. And I've also been disappointed by a past room mate/best friend. Why do good things end?

14. Where did most of your money go?

School. And associated expenses. Blech.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

University. And a boy. Silly boys.

16. What song will always remind of you 2011?

You want the unfortunate confession one? No Getting Over You... That one with LMFAO, Fergie, and all those other pop stars. 2011, though, has been a marvellous year for music. 

17. Compared to this time last year, are:

a)happier or sadder? Happier

b)thinner or fatter? Thinner, I think

c) richer or poorer? Close to even... But soon to be much poorer.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Travelling. 

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Working at my first-half job.

20. Did you fall in love in 2010?

Yes. Yes, I did. I freaks me out, and makes me excited-happy all at once!

21. What was your favourite TV program?

Big Bang Theory. I've never watched a single episode... But I'm pretty sure I think it's hilarious.

22. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Hate... It's a strong strong word. No one comes to mind, so I don't believe so.

23. What was the best book you read?

2011 was a poor year for reading. To many I meant to read, and not enough that I actually did.

24. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Elllie Goulding, Florence and the Machine, Adele, Lindsey Stirling. Looks like my tastes are taking a feminine twist... How odd.

25. What did you want and get?

I wanted to leave my job and try something new. I wanted a solid relationship. 

26. What did you want and not get?

I wanted to travel. I wanted to snowboard more than I did. My wants didn't happen, but they were twisted and exceeded.

27. What was your favourite film of this year?

I watch very few movies... And it takes a lot to really impress me... Tangled was good ;).

28. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 25. Somehow it phased me much less than 24. I entered it dancing in a barn loft with good people. I worked, another first ever, but briefly. And I got a stack of letters from the people I care for that I promised not to open until I turn 50.

29. How you would describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?

Increasingly athletic and tomboy, but I don't shy away from the feminine things I like. More make-up this year than ever before, which isn't saying much. Longer hair than since I graduated. Some kick-ass boots. Oh, and fake glasses everyday to school... Something has to help maintain those grades.

30. What kept you sane?

My family. Oh, and chocolate.

31. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

I believe last year was Channing Tatum... This year there was no replacement. I like to stay firmly in reality...

32. Who did you miss?

All sorts of people. Friends who's lives were part of mine, but who have moved on.

33. Who was the best new person you met?

My blue-eyed boy. We met on a hotsprings roadtrip early on but didn't get to know each other until summer months and carefree days.

34. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010.

Compromising because you damn well want to isn't usually worth it.

35. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

One lyric? I think not...

I picked this up on Lexi's blog. She doesn't know I exist, but I very highly recommend you visit.

Broken Pieces

I think of you like yesterday,

(ElifKarakoc)

a smile on your face.

An array of broken pieces

all but dappled shades of gray.

I think of you as everything.

Deception that was chance.

The thought of what we used to be.

Fading error, trip and dance.

I think of us as nothing,

just the stories that we told.

The passion of a summer's morn.

Open water, flakes of gold.

I ponder.  Pensive.  Carefully,

a thought I should forget.

The heavy rest of midnights past

a glimpse I should regret.

For tightly tangled, hidden now.

Leather boots, my thoughts, this kiss.

The comfort of an autumn day.

So much I must dismiss.

Worth Having

Come Autumn I need change... and things. 

It's been a summer full of fun, confusion and living like I was free.  It was rope swings and barbeques.  Rock climbing and iced coffee.  It was boys and camping and a star spread sky.  To much rain and not enough lightening.  Best friends and family, the two of those combined.  Long talks, happiness and the world beneath my motorbike.  It was mistakes for all of us, decisions among us and more good relationships than I could possibly have hoped.

It was a summer worth having.

And now I'm here.  In a big empty beige house with no furniture.  And in classrooms discussing Philosophy, Psychology and knowing I'll be struggling through homework.  Learning how to write creatively.  Because I've never dabbled in that before.  Thinking about taking on more freelance journalism through this all.  With a blue-eyed boy I care for.  In a city I've always thought was unattractive discovering hidden places where beauty exists.

Feeling seventeen sitting on the back step drinking lemonade out of mugs because we don't have chairs or glasses.  Holding hands, smiling lots.  Opening crisp new school supplies and learning my way around.

It's more change than I could possibly hope for.  It should be a fall worth having.

Wrapped in Fleece

I'm lying on the floor. On the edge of the carpet. Wrapped in fleece. Trying to sleep. Except that I'm really actually looking at the footprints in the dust on the hardwood that blew through the open window. That I'm really listening to "Bookends" without really listening at all. Because acoustic guitar is just part of the background. Because that's just where I'm from.

And I'm writing this down on the space that's my mind. And aware of my breath and the things that unwind. Listening to "Blue Jean Blues" without really listening. Because that's just the way I am.

Needing this place. Some time just to breathe. A break from the best and a place for my dreams. Listening to "Old Love" without really listening. Because that's just where I'm at. Needing to be alone, wrapped in fleece and trying to sleep.

Wishing you were here.

Here

This post will not be long. It will not have photos, it will not rhyme, and my wording will not be impeccable. I will not be telling you to vote (my ballot was cast advance) or commenting on certain political developments. This is the first full blog post I am composing via iPad, but my reasons are good.

I am in Prince George, en route in a two week back-country hard-camping road trip to the Yukon. Last night we slept under Jasper stars and watched a hint of northern lights streaking the sky.

I recently turned down a job promotion, met a boy I share a lot of mutual like with, found a room mate with a thirst for adventure and a long history of learning to appreciate each other (we're succeeding). Pre-wrote half a month of paid posts and put my car on the road after biking for a month.

It's nice to have an open road, a full tank of gas and two of the coolest brothers you can imagine to share this with. This is here.

Fought and Forgot

I listen to Eminem, sometimes.  My headphones on, the volume up, my angst and anger cringing in the face of pop's greatest claim.  But that's not why.

I listen for the blonde crew cut.  For the baggy jeaned white wife beater of a culture not my own.  For the thrill of memories I'll never have except scrawled in this poem.  And with you.

For those times we parked and fought or didn't fight and I forgot.  For the words that say you better then I ever could.  For the ones that are actually good.  For Stan.  Haunting obsession and dysfunction.

Do you listen to Dido, thinking of me?

For regretting your past, for you.  My present, with you.  A future without.  Not dreaming I'd end up with  some commercialized beats on a mix disc of songs we could both appreciate.  For Cleaning Out the Closet.  Our one common conquer of communication.  For the times that disagreement and you lips on mine were a confused passion.  A plethora of emotion, of action.  And of painfully knowing I could never like Eminem.

Because he reminds me of you.

Lonely Again

My room mate is leaving tomorrow and I'd be lying if I said I'm not even a little bit sad.

(Aly-Wan)

Not because she's the best room mate I've ever had.  She's not.  Not because we spent a lot of time together.  We didn't.  I alternate between sadness and very glad that never again will she eat all my food when I'm not looking.  Never again will I have to listen to her boyfriend and her at 2:00 AM through cardboard walls.  Never again will all the dishes and the salt shaker end up in a pile on her bedroom floor.  Never again will she leave the toilet paper empty and the lights all on.  Never again will....  Umm...  That's it actually.  She's a beautiful (and incredibly hot) seventeen year old who's sweet and mostly pretty considerate.

She makes me want to mother her.  Not to worry.  I never treated her as anything but an adult.

I'm also kind of excited for her.  Because she's excited with the excitement of a seventeen year old who's never headed out on her own.  And I'm a little bit jealous because she's going on a road trip with the boy she loves to plans she's optimistically thrilled about.

Oh, to be seventeen again...

But I'm sad.  Because I'm not nearly as optimistic as she is.  Because we'll never eat popsicles for breakfast and talk about travel plans together again.  Because I never met her brother, never saw her step-dad's straw house construction, never talked to her about things I think are most important.  She taught me I'm not quite as confrontational as I think I am.  Especially with someone I don't know and wish I did.

And I'm selfishly sad.  Because I know in two weeks I'll be talking to myself again.  I'll be sitting on my couch eating a meal I cooked for myself.  I'll realize I'm more comfortable if I know someone else will come home.  Or that, even if she rarely emerges, there's someone else in my other room.  And I'll realize How much I don't like living alone.

Crushes and the Blogger

I have a blog crush.  Yes, I do.  But, warning:  You can read this whole post.  I'm still not going to tell you who he is.

See, because this is a real blog crush.  There's the "Hey, Girl!  I think you're funny and a great social network connection so, guess what?  I have a crush on you!"  Those are fun.  They're fine way to tell people I like their writing, I like chatting, I like their twitter and the pictures they take of themselves in the mirror (just kidding.  I don't "crush" on anyone who does that.)  But I think it's a lame use of the term.

Then there's the real crush.  As in, I think I'd like you for real.  I'd like to hang-out with you, go on epic adventures with you.  Maybe, you know, marry you.  That's all.

I think you're funny, intelligent and kinda cute.  Yes, I think about you.  Mostly when you post.  I wish we could be friends.  It would be nice if I could see if we're both the same as we seem to be when we write.  If we could really argue about music on road trips to places we're both excited about.  If we could really talk about what's important and where we want to go.  If you'd let me tag along when you do fun, creative things.  If you'd want to learn to do the things I know.

I never had any sort of never-met-before crush until I started blogging again.  I thought it was stupid to like celebs or people you'd never meet.  I still do, actually.  I like myself better in real life.  I simply like the real part.

Still, though, this post is about someone specific.  The only blogger crush I've ever had that I honestly thought maybe I shared values, lifestyle opinions and interests with.  But he's far too far away.  I've never stalked his Facebook (because I've never thought about it before.  I know what I'm doing after this publishes) or anything silly.  I'll just keep reading his blog and thinking that he's a pretty cool guy.

The internet sucks.

Seventeen 'Till I Die

Today my room mate turned seventeen.  I told her, as I always tell people who turn that age, that seventeen is the best year.  In my mind I could fairly happily stay seventeen forever.  But why?

(xCoffeeAddict)

It was actually a pretty crappy year.  I was lacking direction and fought to no end with the school I'd chosen to graduate with.  This ended in tears and the principals office.  As well as fantasies of judo-throwing her incompetent self through the floor (she got fired the next year, and had been shuffled around repeatedly because she can't do her job).

I got kicked out of home.  It didn't last long, but was something of a reflection of my family situation in general.  I never got pregnant, did drugs or assorted rebel behaviour.  My parents just didn't get down with my lack of respect for imposed authority.

I spent three assorted months house sitting.  Nothing seemed more magical then a place to myself.

I questioned the beliefs I was raised with late at night, realizing they'd have to become mine, and not sure if they could.

I built.  Houses, with my Dad.

I passed my road test and took to driving like I was made for it.

I dedicated myself to judo, and subsequently reached my peak.

I struggled to establish a social group after the six month trip earlier that year threw a massive friggin' wrench in the one I was supposed to have.

For whatever reason, all that compiled into a belief that seventeen is independence, freedom and life more abundantly.

In the month before I turned eighteen I bought my own little car that I learned to love.  I also graduated, put a down payment on a place, moved out and got a full time permanent job.

Maybe it's just that I never much cared for being an adult.

Just This

If you read this blog this month there's nothing to indicate that I celebrate Christmas, let alone that it's altogether and absolutely my favourite holiday of the year. 

If you read this blog this month you wouldn't know how proud I am of my Christmas tree.  You wouldn't know the joy I find in Christmas music, the people who smile at you on the street.  A white season, gift wrapping and baking.  Hockey on our outdoor rink, snowboard plans, cards thanking the people in my life for a year of memories.

I savour tradition.  Stockings, paper snowflakes adorning the windows, real ones caught in my hair.  Smiles, Charlie Brown's Christmas, memories.

So, I am sorry.  If you read this blog this month I never shared any of this.  As usual, it's also the busiest part of the year.  Ironic that Christmas day is when I get time to sit and type this to you.  Really all I want to say is something you've heard a million times before.

Merry Christmas!

 

The Middle of Nowhere in the Middle of the Night

Dec. 31st, 2009, 11:30 PM.  I needed change.

11:30 PM and someone said we should climb the lookout.  In the middle of a wildlife reserve.  In the dark.  We were in the middle of this nowhere anyway.  We were tired of flying down an icy hill on over-sized tubes and throwing gasoline on the fire.  I was tired of chocolate Christmas baking and being the oldest in the group.  I was tired of doing doughnuts in empty parking lots and hours spent running in a mild winter out of pure frustration.

twenty five of us piled into four cars and sped down to the empty reserve and a clear starry sky.  We ran down clapboard paths over dead winter marshes and up the four flights of steps to the open top.  We made it, breathless, by midnight.

I screamed at the emptiness and my small town's lights in the distance.  I grabbed my blonde friend and we looked at each other, jaws set.

"Get lost, 2009.  We're so done with you!"

She was going to Calgary.  I was going to Arizona.  I haven't seen her since.  I miss her, but I know her life has gone the way she wanted.

And myself.  I just didn't know.   I'm not my brothers that were hugging me, lifting me, threatening to throw me over the rail.  I'd given up construction long ago.  I was twenty three.  I'd seen the world.

Twenty four of us yelling in the new year.  Crammed in an open look-out tower blindly hugging and looking forward to 2010.  And me.

Foreign Flavour

(Jahblessme)

I think I think I like you
'Cause I really think you're cute
You're sweet but you are edgy
Like you're trying to improve

You smile, hold the door,
but in every conversation
I'm really very certain
you swear without realization

You're genuinely thoughtful,
even when I know you're wasted
Like a new and foreign flavour
that I've never really tasted.

You wear death metal t-shirts.
Yeah, you seem a little shady,
but you really are exceptional
at helping out old ladies.

I think I think I like you,
and I know you think I'm hot.
So this may seem a little crazy...
I won't give us a shot.

Abortion, My Thoughts

I'm confused as to why the abortion debate is considered a religious or feminist issue. Either an unborn baby is a life, or it's not. If it is, terminating a pregnancy is wrong by every standard. Abortion is a humanitarian issue.

It's dangerous to draw a line defining when life begins. Is it when a fetus can feel pain? Is it the first time it cries? It's first breath of oxygen? The day it enters the third trimester?

I'm aware that pain is caused every day to women who attempt their own abortions. I'm aware that rape and marital molestation result in countless pregnancies. I would never ever argue that these are anything but tragedies.

It's unfortunate that sex, even uninvited, can result in accidental life. It's unfortunate that birth control fails, or isn't readily available in parts of the world where population control is needed most. It sucks that life sends us challenges, responsibilities and mistakes. And it really hurts to realize that this is passed onto the helpless little lives that result.  We need to work on fixing these issues.

Regardless, hundreds of thousands of abortions exist simply to terminate an inconvenience. And yes, illegal abortions can kill women. Abortion is a possibility and a fact. It's not going away. But here's the thing. If I believe that a fetus is a child. If i believe that the emotional upheavel experienced after a miscarriage or an abortion isn't simply a coincidence. If I believe it's a life, then advocating for the privilege of ending it is a terrible injustice.

I'm not pro life because I'm religious. Certainly not because I'm anti-woman.  I am pro-life because I have an adopted little brother I love into a million pieces.  Because I think that even those without voices need rights.  It's an opinion I'll never apologize for.

I'm pro life because I believe in living.

Goodbye Autumn

(dorguska)

Yesterday is but a memory.
Tomorrow's just a dream.

The (No) Internet Experiment

Here's the thing.  I like the internet.  It's an endless resource ever at my fingertips.  So I abuse it.  I don't even want to know the amount of time I've spent online over the last year.  If I am away for a week I don't have any trouble going offline, but I spend far to much time in front of my screens when the option is there.


Let's face it.  There is much I want to do.  dreams I want to pursue, thoughts to be had, family and friends I know I don't see enough of, cooking, music, cleaning, studying, exercise.  All far more worthwhile then catching up my FB feed or watching movies on youtube.  (hey, at least I don't have an actual television).

In short, I am so much closer to the person I want to be without the internet.

I'm not about to delete my facebook, or give up blogging or online courses or news sources.  I'm not doubting the online world is useful if we make it serve us the way we want it too.

This is, essentially, the first time with my own place and internet and computer. In the past I've relied on stops at friends and the library.  You know what?  It was better that way.

I love the outdoors.  I love conversation, adventures, life.  You know, the real version.  I'm just terrible for procrastinating it.

So, here's the plan.  For the next week I'll be online for no longer then half an hour each day (including my apps), outside of studying.  I'll still be blogging, but I'll just c/p from word.  Actually, don't be surprised if I blog more, and better quality.

I'll miss some of my mind numbing time wasting standard habits but we'll see.  Maybe I'll have to enact this as a standard part of my life.

She Holds an AK47

I've been at a music festive here in the NW, and it was five days of amazing.  I have something to say.  But, here.  First of all have some music.


Now.  I'm wearing dog tags.  They say simply

Name: Yex Seung
Gender: Female
Age: 8 Years
Status: Active
*Burma*

It's a representation of an active soldier in the country with a larger concentration of child soldiers then any other country in the world (over 75,000).  I'm sorry to admit I wasn't aware to the extent of the tragedy.  I'm wearing her tags.  She is raped, fired at, and taught to hold an AK47.  At eight years old.

I don't want to scare you away and I don't want to freak you out.  I know there's a tendency to avoid anything depressing, sad or hard.  I don't want that, but I believe in awareness and honesty.  Truth is, this is a pretty broken world sometimes.  We do have reasons to celebrate, but a responsibility to bear.  I'm a part of the human race, and I need to ask myself what that means.

I'm not trying to guilt you, either.  What I do want is for you to visit projectak47.com.  Or I want you to search a change you believe in.  Maybe you'll reach into your heritage, or your past.  Maybe you have to deal with yourself first.  Just don't hide.  I've researched this one enough to believe in it.

You can get dog tags of your own.  But I don't want you to start there.  Read about a project.  Get Involved any way you can.  Learn.

Yes, I believe this is a positive cause.  However, what I'm also asking for is that you find a way to support somebody somewhere somehow.  Find something you believe in.  You're creative, smart and hopefully caring.  Believe it.  And tell me what you find.  I want to learn about that too.

Fragments of Friendships

They're memories of you. All of you. Sometimes I don't open the drawer for months. Other times I take them out five times in a single day. Pulling these close to my heart, brushing them with my lips. Clenching them in my fists or throwing them back and slamming the drawer.

Random pieces. I like life a little better when I forget they exist.

A homemade necklace. A charm that says “friends.” Yours said “forever,” of course. We were twelve and we knew it. This one is a broken heart. That's not what it meant at the time.

I hold it now and it remember the confusion of torn families I only observed. Whispers over the phone. And you disappearing one week without a goodbye. The strong decision your Mom needed to make. I still see your Dad sometimes. I'm glad you're free, and I trust you grew into a woman that would make your Mom proud. Confirm she made the right decision. I know more, now. Things I wasn't ready to understand when I was twelve. Things you probably weren't either, but had to. I'm sorry. I wish my two letters could've said more then that I missed you.

Where are you now? I don't know. I guess I never will. I searched your name on Facebook, but it's probably not what it was.  I still have that piece of pressed metal that says “friends.” That's what I'll remember you as.

A sand dollar. I was sixteen now, walking with you down an abandoned Mexican beach. I was so proud to call you my best friend. So sure you were cool, you convinced me that athletic teenage girls like us looked good in over sized t-shirts. We would wrestle, and I would win. I believe that you thought it would last forever. I trusted you.

At nineteen we lost touch, but I still have that sand dollar. I wrote letters, e-mails. I poured my heart out and scribbled in my notebook. Life did get in the way. Such different paths, you and I. We share the most important now, but it's not enough.

I'm sorry. I try to hard.

A pair of drumsticks. They say you'll love me forever. I almost believed that, too. Luckily I was jaded enough to question it all.

I know I held you at arms length for longer then you thought possible. But you were my best friend. A misjudgment, but I wish that part could have been true. I cried with you well you held me. I cried when I left. I stuck by you until I couldn't any more. It was too long, yet far too short.  How you could blindly cut me like that, I'll never know.

These drumsticks will never tell.

And you. You haunt my life more then any other with these reminders. We shared our childhood, our struggles and, finally, my home. Others came and went, but you were like my sister. My sister with communication skills that would never match mine. Is that where we went wrong? This crumpled stack of notes, letters, ramblings? This giant paper clip, teddy bear and a heart. How unlike us, then. You and I with our hitch hiking, our first time swearing, our baggy jeans. The times we shunned each other and our mutual respect.

And this last letter. The one where you asked me not to reply. The one I'll never understand.

I'm closing the drawer for now.  I've learned that others will be added, despite my greatest efforts and my learned reservations. I regret that it's still so damn worth it.

(photo source: Barcarola)