Wednesday, November 12, 2008


Sometimes its hard for me to breathe

The silence is becoming my friend. Before it was a threat of the nothingness my life was becoming.
But now I am learning to welcome it. Silence. But still its hard for me to breathe sometimes. I’ve decided that I will stop fighting who I am. Its okay that I am an independent woman who needs to be taken care of. And who only saw marijuana up close when you used to visit. Too bad I never saw you through your purple haze. But I miss your laughter and your company. With all your nastiness that makes my face hot just thinking about it

You were …so…nasty

I really just miss the company.

I find myself listening for footsteps that never reach my door. But I made the choice to spend time with someone I really didn’t like, just for the company. I guess you felt that. Only now do I realize the consequences of our behavior. So now when the late night texts start coming again. I ignore them. I won’t do that to you again. Even if you want me to.

Its hard for me to breathe sometimes

I hate that people don’t let me be Other than what they have written about me in their heads. Like how I am such a heavy drinker even though I have only drank on 5 occasions since August. Which is something because August almost killed me dead; Trapped by your circumstance and past mistakes.
And maybe its true. Because why else would I be keeping count .

Its hard for me to breathe sometimes.

I’m learning that my happiness is no one else’s responsibility but my own. But I also know that it feels so good for someone to want that responsibility. And sometimes its okay to want to feel good. It doesn’t make me any less or selfish or faulty. Because feeling good helps me to breathe.

Because sometimes its about seeing what you want and getting it. Or not. And moving on . Or not
But making the choice.

I see my father and mother. Father sick. Mother by his side. Keeping him well. When you are sick, who will be there to hold your hand, clean your body. Do for you when you can’t do for yourself . Who will do for me?

My mother and father made a choice. As will I.

So here I am

Age 35. 36 around the corner. Still waiting for footsteps. But knowing if I hear them or if I don’t, Sometimes, It will still be hard for me to breathe.

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