One That's Not a Story, But Rather the Truth

Because let's be real, the only semi-decent writing I've ever done has been to you. I sit around sometimes and wonder why writing to you has always been easiest and I guess it's because there's something to knowing that no matter what you did, someone had your back. You didn't care if I woke up and wanted to be a bitch to every person who entered my line of vision, you didn't care if I wanted to lay in bed and cry all day long, you didn't care if I wanted to spend the day outside rolling around in the grass with no cell phone, just to feel the sunshine. It didn't matter what I did, or who I wanted to be that day, or who I hurt, helped, or made happy. You were always there, no matter what, with that same look in your eyes. I wonder if you ever think back that far, if those are memories you even still have. Do you remember staying up all night, talking about any and everything. Movies, books, aliens. Do you remember when Andrea was around? How silly things got the later the clock went on. Do you remember our senior night. I made you sit with her because I didn't want her to be by herself. You told her about punching Eric in the face, you taught all about deep-throating hot dogs, a conversation I will never understand how that came into existence, Benji said he forgot we weren't already married and that she wasn't our kid, we literally watched your brother eat 12 plates of food. Would you look at my life now and be surprised? To see me in the exact same position as always. My life slowly going up in flames right in front of me. I swear I don't even try to fuck things up on purpose, but hey, maybe you already know that? Would you feel sorry for me for once, to see me actually being a tornado, not just a bad force in your life? Or would you laugh at your favorite disaster, back at it again? I'd tell you about everyone. I'd tell you about Tristan, he's so shy and somewhat awkward, he'd remind you of Zane. You'd love Lolli, everyone does, he's like your mom, seems like he's motherly and then pops off with ridiculously inappropriate shit. Travis, you'd like, he'd remind you of the people you hang with. You would love his stories. Alex would remind you of the person you used to be, quiet and reserved. You'd love my kids, they are incredibly smart, also slightly manipulative. They'd like you too. Is Bukowski still the great inspiration of your life? You know the thing that Bukowski and Fante fail to tell you is, regardless of the no fucks policy and managing to not spend any legitimate time in jail and calling it adventure, they were deeply unhappy people. Then again, all I've wanted is to be Lula and I still manage to find myself as miserable as them, so damn, maybe you're doing it right. Do you wish you had woken up from the hospital with no memory? The doctor said you could have had brain loss, if you had no memory, wouldn't things be different. You wouldn't need alcohol to run from yourself anymore. Do you think I'm cursed, New Orleans voodoo shit? Would you sit down and try to distract me? Lots of movies and food. Would you sit with me while I cried? Would you tell me it's okay to run and hide? Would you tell me to fight? Would you blame me? Or him? If I could have anything in the world, that's what I would want. Another human being, like you, who had my back no matter what. Who loved me, no matter what. Who could watch me cry, or ignore them, or be a bitch, or be happy, and never look at me any different. To truly be myself in my constant state of confusion and have that be just fine. I hope all things happy and good in your life. Always, and just for old times sake, drink one for me.

One From The Night Before She Ran

"Do you love me?" the blonde boy asked, face to face with Sailor.
"No." Sailor answered, not quite meeting his eyes.
"Do you fucking love me?" The boy asked her again.
"No." Sailor whispered.
In one, swift movement the blonde reached up with his hand, cupped her face and pulled him towards her, their lips meeting. Sailor felt every resolve she had break in that one moment. It was a kiss there was no coming back from.
"That's what I thought." he responded, forehead to forehead with her, both of them struggling for their breath.
"Shut up."

The boy kissed her again. Hard. They began walking backwards until he gently sat her on the bed. She sat there, looking up at him. The eyes that were always looking at her, while his mouth said nothing. The mouth that always spoke to her with so much passion. She reached her hands up underneath his shirt to feel his bare chest under her fingers. A motion she had ached to do for days. He reached up and pulled his shirt off to make it easier for her. Sailor took a minute to admire the tattoos in his skin and he took that moment to reach down and kiss her again.

One From the Story Where He Broke Her Heart

Sailor sat in bed looking at him sleeping beside her. The moonlight hitting his face and giving his dark hair a red tint. Why is he doing this, she thought. Why is he digging up something we had planted so deeply in faith? Oh, that's right, she thought, he doesn't believe in faith and laughed to herself. How do you come out on top with someone who is always testing you, trying to catch you slipping, waiting on you to give the perfect answer every time your mouth opens. Why is everything I do jumping through hoops, she thought. Why can't I, myself, my thoughts and feelings just be enough? Why is it always about being the version of me that is acceptable? Regardless of how hard I try to jump through those hoops and pass those tests, I'm always lacking the perfect move. What is it about me that is never enough? Why does he sit here and say he loves me and somehow makes me feel as if he secretly hates me? What did I do to make him this way? Why does he hate me so goddamn much?

One From the Non-Existent Book, Scattered Pieces of the Blonde Boy

Sailor sat on the bed in the moonlight putting on her shoes, her running shoes to be exact. Here she was running, again. She looked over at the man beside her, sleeping soundly, blonde hair falling in his face, the man she loved. She got up quietly and quickly exited through the door.

Kenzie and Sailor were laying on the bottom of Sailor's bed. "I think you're just running because you're scared. The two of you are too much alike and I don't think you've ever really had that. Someone who could understand the way your brain works, not just the words that come out of your mouth." 
"No. We're both natural disasters. It's like a tornado. Everyone knows they're bad and you should run, but at the same time everyone wants kind of wants to see the eye too. You can't take two people who are notorious for fucking up and place them together. They will be absolute chaos."
"Do beautiful things not bloom in chaos?"
"No," Sailor said. 
"What if two people are in love?"
"No."

 "I have a question?"
"Shoot," the boy say intrigued.
"Why aren't you scared to die?"
"Because this is it," he said. "Life has no reset button. I like the idea of living while everyone else is just sleeping, doing nothing, waiting around. I want to live, to fully truly alive. Come with me, I'll show you." The boy walked over, opened up Sailor's car door, she sat down and off they went.

One From the Story Where She Admitted the Truth

Sailor sat down beside Kenzie and Kenzie just looked at her expectedly waiting on her to begin. "I think some days I'll hate him," Sailor said. "What," Kenzie said startled. Sailor looked down at the new and shiny ring on her hand. "I had to give up the only thing that really mattered to keep him. I lost the one thing that mattered to me outside of him. I've come to terms with the fact that life is not a fairy tale. There will some mornings in which I wake, look over, and realize I hate him. I hate him for everything I had to lose. There will be days when everything I say and do is nothing more than pretending. I will pretend to be a good wife, I will pretend to love him, I will pretend to be happy. Don't get me wrong," her voice softens, "there will be days that are full of real happiness. Days that we are in love, days full of real things and real moments."

30 Day Challenge, Day Five: Things You Want to Say to an Ex

To an Ex, but an unexpected one,
I could never say anything to you again and be totally fine. I harbor no issues or unresolved things with you. However, you love to point out areas where you feel like people don't add up, so I guess it takes two to tango. First of all, if you decide upon self-improvement as a means to make yourself more appealing in your new relationship, then it loses it's sincerity. Self-improvement comes from within, not as a means to getting laid by your new girl. Acting out and doing things malicious in nature will always be a stain on how you portray yourself. Next, using your faith as an act of being better than someone, condemning someone is not true faith. You never have the right to condemn people to hell, and when you do, you're just proving that you're not strong and secure in your faith because you're obviously confused on some things. You cannot tell someone they're sinning and they will pay for it, while you're out sleeping with anything that has two legs. You're just trying to get some and they're just trying to find true happiness while not hurting anyone, so which of you is actually worse? Being a decent human being applies all the time, you can't go out of your way to hurt people, simply because you didn't get your way. That is not how this works. You can't be a good person half the time, it's all or nothing, sweetie. But actually, I do hope you find happiness, and true love because those are the things that make a life. Those are the things that change people.

30 Day Challenge, Day Three: A Book You Love

Let's be real, like many things in life, I am totally enthralled by reading. I adore books, and think they are the easiest way to learn, to grow, to be someone different. If you ever find that you are not impressed with who you are, pick up a book, you'll be different by the time you're done, if it's good enough. I think I'll discuss a few and see where this goes, since everything I write is almost always pure stream of consciousness anyways. My all time favorite book is and will be forevermore Sailor and Lula, The Complete Novels. I love this story so much, my daughter will be named after it. Barry Gifford does something so magical to me. Even though Sailor and Lula end up having all these crazy, outlandish adventures, you feel as if they could happen to you, happen to anyone, if only you had the right partner. Maybe the point isn't to have such insane things occur, but to be with someone who makes you feel as if anything of those things could be possible. My whole life, all I ever wanted was for someone to take my hand and lead me far far away, to run away with me. All I yearned for was that feeling, that Sailor and Lula feeling. They're not some romanticized, perfect, love story, they're actually white trash mediocre. They're on the run, poor, smoking hooligans staying in seedy hotels. Everything your parents warn you against, but happy with each other and just being wild and free. This books somehow manages to embody love and freedom, two things that sum up everything I have ever cared about in life. Next on the list is a book I find lots of people are disappointed in. I love Looking for Alaska, I think it is the best thing John Green has ever written. I think The Fault In Our Stars is incredibly overrated, the most average thing I've seen. However, Looking For Alaska, a true masterpiece. Alaska is every girl suffering from severe depression, trying to find answers, stumbling around, looking for temporary happiness in thrills, trying to avoid ruining others because deep down you know you're a walking disaster. And Pudge is just is the guy who thinks she's a mystery. It's a book that portrays a romanticized image, only to rip that image away from you. It's like a train running right at you, and you know it's coming, and you are powerless to stop it. It's a book to read when you need answers, not because you get them, but because you don't. Following, we have my favorite author, Tony O'Neill. The walking, talking definition of underrated. Tony O'Neill is vile and disgusting, and not for the weak-hearted, or maybe even the weak of stomach. But there's always something to be found in the disgusting. My personal favorite, Down and Out on Murder Mile, a true story. It begins, have you ever loved anything as much as Tony loves drugs? Probably not. To pimp his wife at the time out for drugs and to get raging mad when she won't suck a guy off to fuel their habit, to not care about her or anything else. But what is the strongest force on Earth? Love. He says something to the effect of, I know I'd have to quit or she'd have to start. He talks about his choices not being between his wife or the girl he is in love with, because that's really no choice at all. But a decision between a life with drugs, or a change in the normal, the seemingly impossible, a life without drugs. All of this has come from memory so I don't recall the exact date this book was completed, but Tony O'Neill has been clean ever since, and is still married to the girl he fell in love with. And is still completely, so fucking rad. He didn't lose anything by getting clean, but gained a writing career, a wife, and a daughter. A book to embody hope.