Still walk behind you. Today I miss my grandma. Today I am a bit bitter that I lost my chance to really grieve over my grandma. today I’m sad. Sad.
My grandma use to have the Irish blessing infront of her cottage bedroom door. It now sits on a small note card by my desk. “Those you’ve known and lost still walk behind you” sticks only a few inches above it. Even still I can look at the picture of us from one of the last nights I spent with her and her wild hair and her happy smile. I can whisper to myself, hug her a little harder. Hold on.
My graduation was super hard because my grandma was really big on everyone’s life acomplishments telling you how good you did, how proud she was of you, or just plain being nosey. She wanted to know it all. My cap read, “She is proud.” with a large picture of my grandma. She looked down and saw my cap, knowing it was me. She was proud…
Now I wish I could tell my grandma all the things I’ve been doing. Working my ass for. She’d be proud. She’d want to know, even if it was for nosey’s sake. Id’ tell her that I went on a Service trip. I’d tell her about all the relationships I made with people who I was there. I’d tell her how much I miss summer right now. I’d tell her how I’m so worried I’m goign to mess up her spaggetti recipe. I’d tell her how much I’ve been writing and I’d let her read a little piece of it. I’d hug her super super hard. *Tears start to fall down my face.* She’d tell me to stop and wipe them from my face, and I’d whisper, I miss you. I miss you so much. She’d hug me again and I’d smell a mix between cedar, cigarettes, vodka, strong hairspray, and dinner. She’d pull my hair away from my face and look at me with that damn smile she use to always give me, the one that says “That’s my grand-baby” She wouldn’t even have to say a word and I’d let out a small smile.
It’s amazing how much I still miss her. She’s with my everywhere, but today I just miss her.
Filed under Life, Memories
Sometimes I wish there was a place I could go where no one would walk in on you and you could cry for as long as you wanted to and curl into a small ball with a pillow covering you.
Yep. That bout’ sums it up.
Use to be the only thing that would calm me down. I would listen so loudly that I’ll have a hard time hearing my grandchildren, but it helped me live. There was something about the lyrics that screamed the things I couldn’t say. Or lived the life I could. There was something there the beats that my legs would shake to, the pounding in my head that wasn’t his voice. I lived for the moments of sanity, between lyrics and beats.
Save Me, by Unwritten law gave me the lines “Don’t touch me, you’ll get this.”
Safe and Sound, by Azure ray “Love is how it’s lost. Not how it’s found.”
Hide and Seek, by Imogen Heap “Where are we, what the hell is going on?”
Cannonball, by Damien Rice ” there’s still a little bit of you laced with my doubt”
Then when I needed to stop thinking about it, and get away I would listen to things that I coudln’t explain. That held no memories, no thoughts, just pure beats, and bad rhymes.
Buy you a Drink, T Pain — “Snap Yo Fingers”
Glamorous, Fergie “If you ain’t got no money take yo broke ass home”
There was so many songs that helped me live so next time you see the kid muttering lyrics to every song they know, or listening with headphones on high don’t blame them for hurting their ears, but wonder what they are drowning out. Because I would fall sleep to techno to stop the thoughts in my head and calm the churning in my stomach.
What speaks to you?
As I wrote my last post I couldn’t help but thinking. Scream! Tell him to stop! You don’t deserve that! It’s like I have seperated myself so far from what happened to me that I felt as though I was watching it from somewhere else. I realized that my words sounded sad and what happened to me sounded horrid. I realized that despite my innermost critic and all the bad advice I’ve been given I learned — It happened to me. For real.
I was shaken to my core after writing that. I finally told a peice of what happened to as many people that cared to read. I was sad, so sad. I was upset and angry wanting to tell the world how I didn’t know what love was. I didn’t understand that it was wrong. I didn’t understand that its okay to not take it. I didn’t see the strength in my constant “no” I thought of the what if I didn’t even do that. How much worse would I be?
My winter break has been long and I miss my college atmosphere. I need to go back.
Filed under Life, Thoughts
I was sitting in a car. It was one of my good friends car. It was pretty crowded to tell the truth. Two of my best guy friends were in the front seat and me and Marjie were in the back seat. I was dressed nice. Short shorts and a halter top. I looked like you’re average sixteen year old. I took my brand new digital camera out and was taking pictures on ride with Marjie. We joked about how it was probably the only fun thing that could happen in this car. I remember Steve’s mother was pestering Steve about not going or what not. We were all heading to the movie. I remember the car was red, small. The music that was playing was classic rock or something of the sort.
I picked him up and skipped toward him. Smiling ear to ear. He hugged me and snaked his hands around me. My smile faded but his hands stayed. In the car we were crammed. Three in the back two in the front. All of which were considered to be my best-friends, except for the boy who had his hand on my knee. I tried to leave some space between Margie and me, it’s sorta hard and I felt bad. That and who doesn’t want to get close to their boyfriend right? Why didn’t I want to get close to him? He must have got the wrong sign because from there on he was something I couldn’t control that night.
I guess having a car full of people and my best friend next to me is the go head and go. I uh, I remember his hands they were log like mine and skinny. I remember them as they flirted with the line of my shorts. “No” I’d whisper, and calmly take his hand joining in on the conversation at hand. It didn’t take long for him to pry his hand away from mine, and as I tried to ignore it giving no signs of consent he would continue, until I did the same thing this time turning to him and saying “No.” Moving his hand completely out of my lap and into his still holding tight.
The trip was a continuous tug of war between his intentions and my standards. I remember the shakes that would happen. I remember the movie theatre being worse and still being right next to my best friend. I remember that he would ignore my hand and use his finger tips, anything that he could reach and I stood up letting him stand and me walk a few steps away from him to clear my mind. I remember all the times I said no. I remember the trip coming home being just as bad, but he had a new trick. Steve’s mother was extremely upset that the movie ran late therefore making me the “take care of me” girlfriend and so while I held him while he worried about what is mother may do when he got home and how much he hated it there. I instantly moved closer to him. Trying to comfort him. Trying to help. Instead it just hurt that much more.
I remember saying no constantly. I remember the feel of his fingers on the hem of my shorts, my underwear, my belt line, anywhere he could reach. I remember how smart he was to always be around people to keep me from screaming on the top of my lungs “No”. I remember going home feeling scared and lost and sad. I wondered why he didn’t feel like a boyfriend should. I wondered what was wrong with me that I couldn’t love someone so into me. I remember thinking what was wrong with me. I remember thinking about just giving in and maybe it will get better. I remember how I wanted the space from my friends because I felt dirty. I wondered…
is this what love is?
I know it doesn’t seem like much, but I’ve never been on a date. I’ve never had someone pick me up after I get all dolled up. I’ve never had someone else pay for my ticket to a movie, or take me to dinner and pay with the intention to impress. I know it seems small, but I missed out.
Let me tell you what I did have. I had a boy who didn’t have a car, didn’t have a job, and in no way was willing to work for his parents. So not only did I have to pay for my own movie ticket at times he was bumming money off of anyone to try and watch the movie himself. The only place I ever ate with him is McDonald’s, and I don’t eat fast food. Therefore a lot of our dates were his couch, and well there’s a lot of nightmares in that couch.
I just want someone to take care of me for once. I want to be picked up and told I’m beautiful. I want to not think about the money I brought just in-case he didn’t pay. I wanted to find a comfort spot in his arms, instead of walking a few feet behind him. I want to watch a movie with someone who loves me next to me, not someone who is looking at how to get in my pants. I guess there’s some more time to wait and eventually someone is going to come and show me love and kindness all I can wonder is…
How much longer till eventually..?
I told my best friend who let’s call… Margie. I told Margie that I was sick of taking care of myself. Sick of being mature. For a little bit I just wanted someone else to take care of me. And her response was “Well, you’ll be home soon.” Oh yes, hand made blankets, warm walls, comfort food, and sunshine smiles.
Sure home is nice and everything, but you reach a point when you can’t really just let someone else take care of you anymore. You can’t just let go and relax, sure you can sleep in for hours but there is no more letting other people stress about you. Because then you stress, about them stressing. Nor can you let someone take care of you, because your old enough to take care of yourself, so put away your dishes, do your own laundry, and clean up after yourself.
Not only is home not as comforting as I needed, being home brings other forms of suck around. For instance back at college when I have a bad day and spend the entire day crying and being sad, it’s okay because logically I’m saying that I’m doing this to get better. But back home? I’ve already cried in this exact same bed before. I’ve already spent nights awake in this exact same couch. I’ve already shaken and cried in these places and I’m doing this so I don’t have that anymore. Therefore making me feel like I’m right back where I started, and I’m getting sick of square one.
Being home is nice, but it’s not comforting to me right now, and maybe it won’t be for a long while. My heart just heavies.
If the names are ever getting confusing don’t worry. I added a “Who’s who” link to clerify it, and no who’s not on first. *Insert bad pun noise now*
Or it’s at the top of the page.