Log in

Jan. 12th, 2017

"Exposed" - If emotional pain made physical scars.


      My sister and I had a fight today. Something petty, not worth mentioning. We've gotten really good at fighting over the years. I can't help but think that one of these days she'll slam the door and never come back. And she's gotten really good at slamming doors, let me tell you.
      After her dramatic exit, I'm still fuming, heart racing. I walk over to my bed and that's when I feel it. I wonder how bad it will be this time. The skin on my forearm starts to stretch until it splits - bursts like a seam. The pain hits me belatedly. I need to sit; I collapse onto my bed with a gasp and brace my arm by my elbow. Now comes the blood. I place a shaking hand to slow the bleeding while I find a towel. I get up and stagger just a bit and walk briskly towards the bath room. I grab my dark purple towel - hopefully that hides the stains - and press it down hard onto the gaping wound; I grit my teeth. Holy crap. This sucks.
I wonder if my sister is handling herself as gracefully as I am at this moment. You would think I was used to this by now.
      I stare down at the bright red gash on my forearm. It is maybe only about 2 inches long; I wonder to myself if I need stitches. It isn't bleeding anymore, just... throbbing. It still fascinates me how quickly the wounds show up - mere minutes. I've always thought it brilliant that they are never worse than I'm feeling, rather perfectly synced to the emotion. "What you feel within, will be displayed throughout," they say. Strong emotion is never felt without wearing a scar to match.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. That sure was an ordeal. I walk over to the full length mirror and take inventory of all my battle scars. Some nicks I got when I was younger, faded and small. The tiny cut on my collarbone from when I broke up with my boyfriend of a week in the eigth grade. I thought it was the worst thing that could have happened to me. Then my dog died and I bruised my ribcage. My best friend moved away and I busted my lip. I fell in love in the summer and in the fall he fell in love as well, but not with me. I touch the scar he left on my chest just over my heart.
      It's a wonder I am still in one piece. I should take some pointers from Sally and carry around some needle and thread.
      I arch and twist and look for more little dings and scratches in the body work. The pain in my forearm has subsided. The scar closed and turning pink. I guess the speedy healing is something to be thankful for.
      I hear my phone ringing from the bedroom. I see the screen blinking from my desk. It's my sister. Her scar must be all healed up as well.
      "Yo," I answer.
      "So... you okay?" She asks. She sounds tired. Hell, I'm exhausted.
      "Yeah, it's all good now."
      "Okay. Talk to you later."
      That's as close to an apology as I'm going to get. I decide to let it go. No need to torture myself anymore today. I flop backwards onto my bed. I lift my forearm to look at my newest badge.
      I have seen people with worse. I can't imagine what they must have felt to get their scars. How heartbroken do you have to be to go blind? How tormented are you to have burns seared around your neck like an invisible noose?
     I hope I never find out.

Feb. 20th, 2016

Every end brings a new beginning.

Greetings old friend... You have been with me through years and years of back and forth anguish and ecstacy, doubt and self discovery. You've witnessed the countless flings and almost relationships that never seemed to make it. I am the same person I was through all of that, albeit a little wiser, and I am here to tell you that finally... The clouds parted and let the sun shine through. As though life cut me unexpected but well deserved slack, I have met someone. Except this time, my thoughts hold no insecurity, no hesitance, no doubt or uncertainty. This is it. This man is who I have been waiting for all this time. I have endured so much, and even still so little, that finally fate bestowed on me the man of my dreams.

It is definitely different writing about a man I met, a new prospect, but rather than giving an entire speech of how I've been burned before, or giving it the ol' "let's see where this goes" monologue... I want to talk about how my future, as far as love is concerned, is set.

How did we meet? Truthfully, at this point in my life, I'm the most outgoing I have ever been - more open to adventure and new experiences. I thought, what do I gotta lose? I joined an online dating app. At first, it was just to see what it was like and how it worked. Went though the motions of making a profile and scoping out the prospects. I talked to some people but it never went anywhere. Then I meet Chris. Just his name alone makes me smile. We liked each other based on whatever was on our profiles. So we started talking. Not long after, we exchanged numbers. Texted a bit and set up a meeting. The meeting was exciting, short and sweet. Then we were meeting up a bit more. On one date, as we were saying good night... We had our first kiss. It was only a peck, but it was all I could think about.

Of course, during all of this, I did wonder if this was it. I was already so enamored by him and it had only been a couple of weeks. My sister's birthday rolled around and my family had a small bbq. Very small. Just my parents, my sister, her boyfriend, and me. I was messaging Chris about it and even talked to him a bit over the phone. Not long after, my sister had this crazy idea to ask him over. Chris lives in Santa Rita. Sure, sure, nothing on Guam is far, but it doesn't change the fact that he will be literally driving to the other end of the island. We really just started dating and didn't know what to expect. The worst he could say was no. But... he didn't say no. He said yes. And it turned out to be the best thing that could have ever happened. We all hung out all day and all night.  On the drive home early the next morning as the festivities had just come to an end, we were girlfriend and boyfriend. No questions, no preamble, no awkwardness... Just mutual understanding.

I have never met anyone who felt like they were literally a part of me. We are so alike in so many ways and we respect what little differences we have. He constantly challenges me and opens me up to new experiences. After maybe just 2 weeks, he told me he loved me and I said it right back because I meant it. It's been 6 months and I still get butterflies thinking about seeing him and just knowing he is mine. He is the best thing that has ever happened to me and is the missing piece of my soul. Every struggle hereafter will be so much more bearable just because he is in my life. We're not perfect. There are a lot of things that need to be done, need to be savored, need to be planned, need to make better before happily ever after. Even while knowing that, I feel like we're already there.

Jan. 24th, 2015


Dusty Room

Memories of you are like a dusty room. Every moment sealed away in taped up boxes, piled to the ceiling. One day, without any prompting, I cracked open the door to that room. The first thing I noticed was the stillness. I glanced around and everything was just as I left it. The boxes still piled high and leaning – the weight of a few causing the edges to cave in.
I pushed the door open only enough to slide my body through as I stepped into the room. At first I stood there unmoving aside from my eyes. They roamed over each tomb I laid for you and settled on the one nearest me to my right. I gently laid a hand along the top, fingering the edges of the tape – lifting a little, then flattening once more. At that moment, I needed to know what was inside. My fingers peeled the edge of the tape, but this time I don’t stop until the heavy strip rips away completely. Dust that had settled on the box propelling through the air, disturbed by the sudden gust. The tape, what was once clear and sticky, now nearly opaque, brown, and useless. It ribbons to the floor as I lift the flaps of the box to peer inside.
Everything came back to me then. I rifle through the contents while my mind takes me back to you and your smile and your eyes. I thumb through the ticket stubs, the letters, and all the pictures. I slowly unfold your sweater that has long been bereft of your scent. One by one, I take out each item and walk our path again: the necklace, the pressed flowers, the rock from our special place, and at the very bottom, my journal that documented it all.
Each of these items held a piece of our lives together, reminding me of all that we were. But as I flip through the journal, page after page my smile starts to fade and a weight begins to bear down on my chest. My frown deepens as I am suddenly reminded of all that we weren’t and all that we will never be. I remember the reasons we drifted apart and the reasons we stopped trying. Our story the mere crest of a roller coaster, plummeting down until the ride slows and eventually lurches to a stop.
I allow my thoughts to finally settle on the moment I first placed us in a box. My journal first, then all the other pieces of our puzzle that no longer joined or made sense. I taped us shut until all that was left was me. Now I found myself again putting us back into that box. This time for good.
Memories of you are like a dusty room – full of nostalgia disguised as fondness. I finally accepted that our memories belonged taped shut because once reopened, the dust kicks up and suffocates, blinds, and disorients. I reseal the box, clap my hands together, and back away into the doorway. My eyes take one last sweep of the room before finally shutting the door. You shall remain in my past in boxes in a locked room. The dust will settle and things will be just as we left them.

My need to write has been growing slowly, but powerfully over the past few weeks. I get this pressing urge, but no inspiration to fuel it. This piece finally came together today. The need pierced through and the words came to me. No subject in particular, but I am sure it is relative to anyone who is in need of moving on.

Feb. 12th, 2013



So it's the first time in a while I felt some kind of inspiration to write flow through me. I decided to write it down before I lost it. Nothing much, but it's a start. Enjoy.

I shot her.

Last night.

Her face remained frozen in an impassive stare.

The crimson clung to her - from her chest flowing down onto the pristine tile floor.

The tilt of her chin was a little high. The angle of her arm a little awkward. Unnatural.

The light, however - the light of the room hit her just right.

Her brown wavy tresses fanned out against the carpet, the deep rouge nearly glittered in contrast to her fair skin.

Such a waste that our time together ended so suddenly.

I had a job to do after all.

The sound of the phone ringing pulls me from my reverie. Memories from last night already threatening to fade.

"Grant speaking," I answer.

"Well, don't you sound all business!" I nearly dropped the phone at the voice. I froze. Could it be?

I swallow hard. My sweat began to bead on my forehead. I clutched the receiver tight, my knuckles white and strained. The voice came through again as I struggled for coherence, "Helllloooo! Are you there? If I didn't know any better, you'd think you were talking to a ghost!"

It started coming back to me in a painful rush. Glimpses of her lips, her eyes, her lucious brown hair, the red. Red. Flowing red.

And it was in that moment, I decided to speak.

"Come to me. I dare you," my voice calm in spite of the raging tempest within me.

Her voice slid through the receiver, chilling - smooth as silk in her reply, "I'll be right over, Mr. Photographer. I know how much you love when I wear my red dress."



Yup. I'm still trying to perfect my suspense.

Mar. 13th, 2010


Every cloud does have silver lining. 

During all the turbulence and crashing of emotions,
there is sunshine for me to look at ---
something beautiful that I can appreciate. 

I'm so grateful for that sun.

- carameL