► Exi§tenti▲l

Tangled you stumble

How are you able to survive the life you have been given

When your heart hangs from a string.

Tangled around your feet you stumble.

But you seem so very humble.

What has caused the passion for the pain around you?

Let me fill that dark void with the stars from my sky.

Maybe the light will guide you and illuminate 
the hanging arteries in your chest.

This is where you heart lie,

And here is the piece of you I find.

Reset

Please connect iPhone to iTunes
<
<
>Please choose a date you'd like to restore from.<

-----November 1, 2014 6:34 PM Western time-----
-----March 15, 2016 9:47 PM Mountain time-----*****Reset*****

November 1st 6:34pm —- 7 minutes before I met you. How do I remember this? Because I was sitting on the beach in Santa Monica with some friends watching the sun set, waiting for you.

March 15th 9:47pm —- This is the moment you asked if you could go to LA for a week, to visit a family you use to work with.

In November little did I know I would fall madly in love with you.

In March little did I know you would fly away to visit a foster family that had held a special place in your heart, and a guy from your past.

If I could go back, what date would I chose to reset? November a day where I could just walk away. Or March the day I could have said no, I have something planned for us this week.

Instead I will let it play out, I knew you had been wanting to see the foster family you had worked with, so I will slip the engagement ring back in to my pocket, and wait for your return. . .

-*-*-*-*November 5th, 2016. 9:01PM-*-*-*-*
Folded blue jeans that hold a secret, a secret never found.

*

Sliver

The way your lips fall shut against your white teeth, speak louder than your words. Watching your eyes sink down into despair, I see something I haven’t seen before. I can see behind your walls. It’s as if I am a little kid peering over the neighbors fence. As I stand on top of sketchy structure built with the toys I could find in my yard.

I know that I can only make this climb once and as I make it I understand that everything below me will collapse. But to me it will be worth it, worth it in this past moment. But that is the past moment. What about this present moment? As I look back I wonder why I risked it all for such a small glimpse. If I am to build a structure again I’d build it tall enough to pull my self over the wall and into your life. For once I break those walls, I should never cause them to be rebuilt. But that’s exactly it. I though I was peering over the fence, when in reality I was looking through the cracks of life. As you continued to reinforce your thoughts. You never seemed to trust me enough to let me in. I erased every woman from my life and never talked to any woman but you. Because I wanted to show you I was trustworthy.

I never gave you a reason to not trust me. I took really good care of you, never hurt you, never abused you, never left you, always comforted and provided everything you could ever want. You never gave me a reason why you left. Maybe me doing everything you asked was getting old. Or was it maybe because the amount of love that I showed you scared you. And you knew you could not repay it (even though you never needed to)? Or because you allowed someone behind your wall as I was doing everything to get through to you. Someone you liked before me… Which now leads to the question; why did you settle with me for two years? Everything was better than ever till you reappeared in his life.

Confound tears 

​Getting over you. . .
I sit amongst some of the strongest people in gorgeous sceneries. Realizations strike my mind out of no where. Tears form in my eyes but never fall down my cheek. Instead they sit on the cusp of my eye lid. As I shut my eyes, my eyelashes absorb what cannot come out, blurring my vision from what I need to see. Yet the tears never fall. . .

Why am I crying? I am not physically hurting, I am not thinking of you. But then again my mind tends to think of you when I deny the thought of wanting to think about you. My subconscious controls my thoughts, body, and heart. Just as when you’re mad and driving home from work. You are so use to the route from work to home, that your mind is thinking about your anger and frustration. But your body is driving you home. Once home you realize that you never remember anything about the drive.

But I am not crying because of you… Kind of…

I am crying because you took barbwire and wrapped my heart so tightly
that it constricted who I was, who I am, and who I was becoming. You tried killing the good qualities I had, that you didn’t like. For example my heart for family and people. You never admired it, but you knew it took precedence over you at times. I aloud you to wrap that barbwire so tightly around my heart that now it hurts to breath or become passionate about something. Because my heart cannot pump an adequate amount of blood to my extremities to perform the heartfelt qualities I fell in love with years ago.

These tears are not from pain, anger, or thoughts, they are tears of relief. Because slowly that barbed wire is falling off and my heart is becoming stronger. Never have I had tears like this. All I know is I am healing now.

Sorry.

​please excuse any spelling errors it is late and I typed this on my phone.

The absence of existence is not death… It’s just nothing. The definition of nothing is “having no prospect of progress; of no value.”
Being sorry is a word that is meaningless. It’s a conglomerate of letters that make a word we use flippantly. Yeah ill be honest I use it more than I should. But my definition of sorry is this.. Sorry is a meaningless word that has no value (nothing) till equal and relevant action is bestowed upon it to notice a change needs to be made in order for ‘sorry’ to exist. In simplicity you are not sorry till you recognize the problem and proactively adjust your actions to make sorry a non existent phrase but a powerful action.
This is something I have learned and am still learning. In my past I was always truly sorry but had no clue how to fix sorry. So the word filled the void of where action should be found.
To flow on a similar tangent of anger, when family asks “how are you” you want to open up and spill your heart felt pains. After all they are family. But as you start you see the eyes roll, and attention snagged by the moving car cruising down the highway. After 15 words into your pain you stop, smile and say “sorry, it doesn’t matter, how are you?” That sorry is truly empty and will never be filled because it is truly meaningless. Never have I been able to express more than 15 words of pain from this breakup, before I lose the attention of my audience.
But yet here I stand in a gravel filled parking lot watching you encourage a friend as I sit here completely dead and callous to everything around me.

*Reality*

My hands are not clean and groomed. My hands are dry, cracked, scarred, bruised, and beat. You always complimented my hands. “I love the tenderness of your hands, because it shows you work hard to provide and take pride in your work.” That’s the truth. But I am not sure if you noticed the blood that dripped from the tips each night. I am not sure if you noticed the bandages I used, so that I could do it all over again the next day for you. I remember lacing my fingers to yours. Your hands so gorgeous, soft, pure, delicate and manicured. Mine so rough like the wilderness after a wildfire… I remember waking up in the night searching for your hand. It was easily found 7 inches to the right of me. I remember being nervous at mixers and youd reach for my hand knowing i was nervous. I found comfort in your hands. Now I search… Nothing is found, I reach for comfort and my consciousness pulls my hand back into my pocket, where I fiddel with the lint gathered in the pocket seems.

Now my hands suffer working for all you took. No longer in my possession, I still work my hands to the bone. Just to provide for a life and possessions I no longer own. My house is a prison and my flatware mocks me as you run around the country leaving me to suffer.