My minor in college was literature and with that I was required to take multiple creative writing classes - my writing style of choice was poetry because I could get my point across in a matter of a few stanzas rather than pages and pages of paragraphs that ultimately summed up to nothing. So with pen in hand I spent a lot of time for a lot of years jotting down everything I could about every happiness and every heartache I experienced or witnessed. And I jotted it everywhere - notebooks, napkins, candy wrappers, and even more than one wall.
This evening I was thinking about how much I used to enjoy that part of my life and started to wonder why I didn't write like that anymore (unless you consider all of the total crap I post on my blog to be creative writing) and in all honesty, it didn't take me very long to figure it out. I pulled out an old notebook of my writing (that's got multiple napkins and paper towels tucked into the pages, as well) and I realized that everything I wrote back then was about men, love, happiness, heartbreak, pain and sorrow. And since I swore off all men a couple of years ago I haven't had any of that to write about. So rather than post some exciting and heart wrenching new prose that I've penned, I'm totally going to recycle and give you a glimpse into my past and maybe you'll understand my "man ban" a little better . . . (and be prepared for more of this in the future because I'm sure this won't be the last time that I'm desperate for something to post and decided to steal from my past)
I looked at her
she looked at me
eyes full of wonder
and childish glee
where did she go?
where could she be?
that curious reflection
staring back at me
I'm losing my mind
I can't force a smile
Lock the doors
Lie down inside
Pretend the hurt's not there
If people can't ask
I don't have to say
I've made a mistake
And pushed you away
I loved your witty sense of humor
until you used it to cut me down
I loved the way you held me at night
until you smothered me in sleep
I loved the sparkle in your eyes
until it turned to anger
I guess you could say
I loved everything about you
until I knew the you you hide
Feelings of Love
Love is that dizzy feeling.
Love is the butterflies in your stomach.
Love is that passionate fever.
Love is an accelerated heartbeat.
Love is the need to hold on.
Love is the desire to let go.
Ironically, motion sickness,
feels a lot like love.
"She broke it off," he told me.
She cried to him that she felt used.
Said he didn't spend enough time with her.
He shrugged sadly, admitting she walked away.
"You want to know where you went wrong?
Is that why you're coming to me?"
He sighed, again, and said, "She felt used."
I smiled, and told him what I know.
"There are two types of people," I said,
"In these 'using' relationships."
I informed him, rather bluntly,
"You can't use anyone without their permission."
"There are those who want to be used,
and those who are using you in return."
"Which of those are you?" he quizzed.
I smiled, contently, and took another bite
- of my free lunch.