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The definition of the word “Vulnerable” is to be “susceptible to physical or emotional attack or harm” and to be this breed of human is a beautiful and terrible thing. It can lead you to being open, sensitive, and empathetic, but at the same time, it can cause you to be walked all over, tormented by yourself, others and sometimes taken advantage of. 

Being a vulnerable person is work, and there’s no nice way of putting it. You are constantly baring your soul and emotions to the world. And the world is cruel. The world can and will hurt you. I know, from experience that vulnerability causes a lack of walls, a missing piece that you can use as defense. So think of it this way – your life is a battlefield and you have no shield, no armor and no sword. You take the hits laying down. It sounds and feels miserable, you are there, facing such ugly times and your hands are empty. Or so it seems.

With vulnerability also comes the bottomless capacity for love. Your heart is open, your emotions are raw. Using this to your advantage, you can show people light even in all the darkness being endured. Having the ability to give love with such passion and ferocity, there’s never a doubt when one can feel it. 

You see, this is your weapon; to love, to show compassion, to be bare. Not everyone can do this and nor expects this reaction in dark times. The world is in turmoil, everything feels like its falling apart. But to remain vulnerable is to stay capable of being tender and soft in the hardest of days. You may feel exposed, however this does not necessarily have to be a negative thing. 

I have learned to love my vulnerability. Yes, in a sense I am a target for pain and heartache but this has only made me grow and develop as a person. I have a sense of pure love that I pour into others like water. I could drown you in the emotions I withhold. I have a power that is invisible to the naked eye and that makes me, me. If you are reading this, let yourself be weak sometimes, let yourself overflow. Just make sure, that when you grow to be vulnerable, and love others, that you share that love with yourself as well.

Perhaps I spoke too soon
Perhaps I took the words from your mouth
Your pretty mouth

Do I know you
Do you assume that I do
I guess its just too soon
You should step back

Well, hello there!

It’s been 3 years now, and I think about you all the time. I’ve pondered telling you how I’ve been, what’s been going on and how much I’ve changed. OH, how I’ve changed. Let me start by saying I’ve missed you, with every ounce of my being. Too intense? Good. That still hasn’t changed any.

There’s the biggest difference in my life, I have a son now; he’s two and a half. He would have loved you. He would have found you so interesting and funny and wanted to hold your hand. What a sight that would have been! I bet he’d think you were pretty. Do you ever wonder what it would have been like to be involved with his life? Or mine anymore?

I’m doing better than last we talked. It was a turbulent time. It was hard, and I was difficult to deal with, I’m aware. I’ve let a lot of things go that used to effect me back then. I’ll have you know that I do still create! I paint and fiddle with different mediums when I can. Yes, I’m still terrible at music. I really do my best to keep these creative juices flowing.

As for love, if you’re curious, I’ve been through a few heartaches and grown from them as well. I’ve recently learned how to put myself first. Surprising right? For someone who pushed so hard for other’s acceptance and affection to find it in myself to be okay with being alone and focus on self-care… I’m proud of that. I bet you would be proud of me too.

I know it has been a long time, I bet you’ve changed yourself as well. You were constantly changing while I knew you. I only hope you know I still care, and still think of you.

Maybe I’ll write again soon, but for now, stay golden.

Today, I have to write.
I have to find a way to express myself and get out of my head, as pathetic and sad as this post might be, my apologies. In the course of the past few weeks, my life has done a one-eighty. I invested my time, effort and emotions in a person that turned around and denied me, what feels like, my happiness. They were only seeking their own, and I can’t blame them for that.
All I can think of is the years and years I have faced being the second choice. The scapegoat. The back-up plan. The ugly friend.
As long as I can remember, people have always flocked to me as their friend. I have welcomed people in my life, held them in high regard and been their rock in the hardest of times. I’ve been notorious for building “Relationships” with people, rather than being a mere friendly acquaintance. I thrive in being the first contact for emotional support. Knowing that they need and trust me is something I live for. But it’s always caused me pain in the end.
The fact is, every single person I have ever loved and cared about has left me in some fashion or another; from my father leaving at a young age, to my sister, my mother and every one of my closest friends. Not including lovers. Whether it’s been by choice or obligation, it’s a terrible trend that I can’t deny is part of who I am. As long as I can remember, the fact these significant people come into my life, recreate me in some way, and then rip themselves out has caused a severe separation anxiety, and I hate knowing it lies under my surface. My happy little façade.
People will always choose someone else over me, or blame me for their own distance. Though I give and give, and put anyone and everyone’s needs ahead of mine, I get the shit-end of the stick. It’s like, I’m here to put a smile on faces and then see them pass it along to someone else, rather than share in their joy with me. The hardest part is that I WANT to close myself off. I do not want to open my arms and my heart to people anymore, but I can’t stop it. I simply cannot deny wanting to comfort, console or please. It leaves me vulnerable and weak to be shoved aside.
The anxiety that I cope with is one that is almost haunting. A few days ago I had a nightmare (which is beyond rare) that I awoke from in mid-panic. In this dream, I had been at a sort of party, either in a hotel or an apartment complex with dozens of my friends. I was trying to integrate myself into the groups and they kept ignoring me. They looked at me with judgement, they didn’t return my conversation; they made me feel invisible. Everywhere I went in this dreamscape, these people that I considered my companions glanced at me and walked away. Save for one person. He acknowledged me, he really saw me. His eyes were bright, his hands around me, and he kissed me longer than he ever had before. He held me there with so much ferocity, it was like he didn’t want to let me go, but had to. He broke our kiss, smiled, got in a car and left. THAT was when I woke up. I woke up to the reality that he will never do that. He already got in that car, and let me go, as everyone does. What doesn’t make sense is why were all these people ignoring me? Why did they judge me and look at me with distaste and annoyance? All of those friends have been people I have comforted in the past, helped through their own struggles and tribulations. Why is it NOW that I’m dreaming of something so dark that can break me down? And why would my mind give me something so heart-wrenching to wake up from?
I can’t help how I feel, but I can stop where my mind wanders. I’ve learned to not dwell on the could-have-beens. I have learned to distract myself in times that I’m hurting. I surround myself with people that love me and want the best for my well-being.
I find the irony messed up that I said in a prior post “I am to be alone in this world, even if one day I am to be with someone again. At the end, I will only have me, and as bleak as it sounds, it’s grounding. It is a concept I’ve never been able to fully comprehend, though I am slowly coming to embrace it.” I was doing so well in my independence, and understanding how to be with myself. But now, it’s all been thrown down the drain. I built up a friendship into a place I was so joyously embracing, that I lost control. I lost my ability to be a solitary person. I silently put expectations on someone and was very disappointed in the results. I feel as though I helped this person mend, and take a step forward in their life, only to take a step away from me and towards someone that makes them happier than I could.
Though I SHOULD blame them, for causing me pain, and not choosing me, I blame myself. I should have known better than to open up again. I should have known that I would be tossed aside. It’s not like they didn’t warn me that they weren’t ready for what I was, but they didn’t push me away either. Not until it was too late, and I realized how much I was investing. I was giving myself to someone that wasn’t giving back. He’s still so special to me, and I know this isn’t something I can easily let go of. After seven years of unhappiness and unease with someone, I learned to be alone… But the one time I open myself up, I allow myself to feel something again… I come to see, I am not their choice, even if they were mine. I made a leap of faith into my own disappointment. I should have known better.

Just know that I wanted
to love you.

To know all that there was
to destroy you.

To come inside and be beside,
to hold you.

To surround you, to feel you

I just wanted to love you
…

But I’ve lost you

If you love someone, just know this, time is short.
You never know when it will all end.
So love.
Love whomever you love, with all the love you can.
Let them know you love them.
Let them know that they aren’t alone.
Love with passion, ferocity and acceptance.
Cause you never know when it will all end.

I’ve been searching for a subject to write about… something other than the mundane thoughts that cross my mind every damn day. I find myself picking apart every detail of my life as of lately. I feel grounded and yet absolutely chaotic at the same time, and I don’t want to lose my way.
In March of this year, I moved out of the home I had shared with someone I had loved for eight years; I think this may have thrown me off from writing. It was a really hard time, though the relationship had ended (more like burned to the ground) six months prior, he was still my best friend and that was my home I was giving up. But it had to happen. I moved, I left that place and went out on my own. I left the state, going as far from anywhere I’ve ever lived, to be alone, as an adult, for the first time. Well, not completely alone, as I had my cat Albus with me.
It was the strangest situation, as I had only known adulthood while in that relationship. Sure, I had developed responsibility, bills, long term jobs, ect… but actually living on my own two feet, not having a parent hovering over me, a partner, a roommate? That was a complete change of atmosphere. It began an internal downward spiral. When I should have been happy, I should have been proud to be on my own, to be a damn adult and self-reliant, I wasn’t. I was far from it. I was homesick, I was angry and depressed and did not want to be in my head. I didn’t want any of it.
I’ve never been good with change, and I think that comes from being a child of divorce, as many of my generational spawn are. My mother reminded me of a time that I had a meltdown at the age of seven or so, when she wanted to replace the vinyl blinds in my bedroom with new ones, I flat out refused to let her throw them away.  I couldn’t stand items being removed from their original place, things altering around me.  So, with that in mind, it’s pretty easy to see how my adjustment and transition did not settle so well, even nearly two decades later.
It was a strenuous process, getting on my own two feet and facing the facts. I was alone. I am to be alone in this world, even if one day I am to be with someone again. At the end, I will only have me, and as bleak as it sounds, it’s grounding. It is a concept I’ve never been able to fully comprehend, though I am slowly coming to embrace it. I’ve been painting, playing guitar, doing crafts, exercising, and all of the things I had been stifling myself from, under my veil of despondency. With every negative emotion I went through in that time, I triggered a metamorphosis of sorts; an inner strength.
I’ve developed this crazy intricate life. I have thousands of things going on at different times, and I never know what to do with it. I find myself wearing thin, and that’s when I get back to this dark place.
I think I’m in my melancholy state once more, and that’s why I’m writing- to push these thoughts out and move the hell on. For instance, I had a killer weekend, but then I go analyze the things I had said to people, or the way I had acted towards another, and begin to doubt myself.  I start to become really concerned with everything around me and what I may have done wrong. That’s where I’m at.
It’s as if, I dug myself out of this hole I was in earlier this year, and I keep charging up this mountain, feeling fulfilled and creative and inspired… and then I trip, slam my face into a rock and can’t get up. I know eventually I will. I always do. And it seems as though it’s getting easier to do it.
I’m beginning to understand myself more each day, and it’s kind of magical. I know life is full of variables and can punch you in the ribs from time to time, but I’m learning, and growing. I just can’t help but get overwhelmed by my emotions, the thing that steers me most.