Tag Archives: romance

I failed you and what could have been ours

Romance doesn’t exist in the moment.  It’s something that is perceived later on.  Looking back on memories and times shared together that have long since passed, you reflect on your interactions; the smiles, the surroundings, the way the light bounces off of someone and draws your vision to the lines of their body and their soul.  Romance is looking back at these moments and remembering fondly that your heart was somewhere other than your chest.  It was in the air, breathing in the hope and the possibility, only to ever exhale when you find yourself looking back; respiring life into your memories and surrounding them in a fog of adoration.

I’m sorry that I failed you.  I’m sorry that my romance has been your complacency.  I’m sorry that time has passed you by and the memories have forgone your heart.

I wish that I had been someone more for you.  Someone who had laid with you and contemplated, swam with you and discovered, walked with you and remembered.  I wish that your memories of me echoed the romance that mine do of you.  I wish that our time spent together hadn’t been spent so in vain.

I’m sorry that it made you feel bad seeing me so tense.  No more confidence.  What that must have done to your vision of us as one.  Me; your responsibility and your sadness.  And I was weak in mind and spirit.  Never trusting myself to be capable of maintaining your brilliance.  I see how the light of my romance was dusk unto your sense of hope and possibility.

I’m sorry that I failed you and what could have been ours.  My worth–a song of broken harmony to bide the luster of our memory–not forgotten, but denied exaltation in a lost fantasy that I could never fashion into your being.


From Sailor Scout to scouted for modelling–

Today I was approached by a woman working under a relatively well known modelling company.


She told me I had awesome bone structure and the right body.  She left me her card, she left me her number, she took a picture of my face–from head on and both profiles.  She asked my height.  She asked if I’ve ever travelled.  She blew my mind.

I wasn’t really sure if today even happened.  Honestly?  It wasn’t supposed to happen.  I was noticed at work, and I wasn’t supposed to work today.  I took a friend’s shift because she couldn’t work it.

Weirder yet?  Someone else didn’t show up for work today, so I had to come in earlier than expected.  I wasn’t showered, and I felt repulsive.  I was in overtime already when I discovered that my next coworker this afternoon was accidently scheduled alone, so I stayed with her an extra hour or so.  In that last bit of time that I wasn’t supposed to work, on this day I wasn’t supposed to come in at all, it happened.  It happened when reality said it shouldn’t have, as though karma had said it should.

I don’t know though.  Obviously there’s a definite appeal.  There’s an attraction to being attractive.  But I’m just a small town homebody.  When I dream of a future where I’m happy, I am in the countryside.  Maybe I live on a farm.  Maybe I help out where I can or [try] to cook big meals for my husband and children.  I draw on my desk by the window under the sunlight.  I don my journal in the same spot by light of the moon and stars.

When I am happy, I am not withdrawn, but within.  I am within myself.  I know my heart to be a beautiful place, inspired by the memories of my youth and the nature of which I perceive my surroundings.

Maybe someday I want to nurture these same romances within my children.  Maybe someday I want to build blanket forts and snuggle with my kittens and kidlings under the safety of my intimate world of thought.  I want to watch them grow under the same lessons and stories I’ve taken to heart.

Who knows, maybe I’ll watch every episode of Sailor Moon with them, and watch them take different lessons away.  Maybe I’ll watch them grow to be independant and driven.  Maybe they will be models and doctors and artists and heroes.

I’m not sure I’m cut out for being inspired by another’s drive.  I think maybe I’d like to drive another’s inspiration.

I still don’t know though.  Just because I was approached, it doesn’t mean anything serious will come of it.  And even if something did, could I part with my beautiful kittens and pursue a life that is anything but internally lived?

Friday, August 24th

The more I think about you, when you are not around, I get distressed and worried ‘cause my heart now makes a sound.

I told you that I loved you, and at once that meant I’m scared.  But these days it bears a truth that I know we always shared.

I want to be my very best, both for you and even me.  I want to spend forever just dying to make you see.

I love you doesn’t cut it in this heart, this mind, this soul.  The kind of passion I feel for you?  Unrivalled, bears no toll.

I want to spend my days with you, doing all I can, to make you see I need you and know you are my man.

See swimming, food, the gym, they do not frighten me.  They are not moral challenges, but chances, with you I’d be.

I want to rest with windows open and be patient while you sleep.  I want to watch you in your dreams and not worry ‘bout what you keep.

I want to be your everything, right down to every minute.  I want to see you smile and know that I’m the one who did it.

I want to lay in bed with you and forever kiss goodnight.  Tell you that I love you, if it will ever make it right.

There’s a life we haven’t lived together, we haven’t had a chance.  The stars at night, they tell me, that it should never end, this beautiful romance.



I can’t help but reflect on everything we’ve been through this past year.  Every memory I have of you is brilliant.  There’s no simpler way to put it, and no real way to show you how much I mean it.  You are my best friend.  I have shared everything that I am with you.  Everything you’ve done or said to me has been the most valuable moment in my life, all at once.  I can’t even begin to elaborate how much truth is in that statement.  Your friendship and your heart have been the most precious things I have ever held in my life, and I regret everyday that I’ve found myself in a place where they are not mine anymore.

You are everything that I’ve ever needed.  I still believe fate brought us together for a reason, and saying goodbye forever cannot be it.  I am not afraid anymore–of you, of my feelings, or of life.  When I think about sharing a place in your world, I can’t even imagine where such fears would come from.

We’ve both made mistakes, and this is one I am trying to right.  I can be strong enough for the both of us, I can accommodate your feelings in any way they need if you’ll just listen to your heart.  There is nothing to fear, and there will never be another regret.  I need to know if I can’t be your everything, and I know deep down you want to know that too.  Taking this chance bears no risk.  You are safe and loved with me.

Give me this chance.

With love and all that is greater.

A crepuscular reflection.

It’s the dead of night.  He awakens in a panicked sweat, the cool breeze from the window burning his dampened skin.  It was another nightmare.

He’s been having them frequently as of late.  His dreams are a fog of sorrow and broken memories; her lifeless eyes haunt him throughout.  He holds the photo of her that he keeps on his nightstand.  There is a crack through her face that stretches from the shadows of the frame through the glisten of the moon’s reflection.  She is broken.

He feels guilty.  He doesn’t want this for her. There is a reason for her unhappiness, and his nightmares spoil her faith in his guidance.  He feels helpless; worthless even.

He leaves her.

She doesn’t understand now–maybe she never will–but this is for the better.  She can live her life, and be free from the man who will hide her light from the world.

He rests against the window sill, a gentle wind brushing the hair from his dewy forehead.  He stares up at the moon and wonders–will she ever look back?  But she is.  She is always looking back.


Darien contemplates his relationship in the second arc of Sailor Moon, when King Endymion of the future stirs nightmares within him that influence his confidence in how safe he can keep Serena while continuing to be with her.  Ultimately, he leaves her.

Their break up is driven by romance and pure intentions.  It was anything but selfish.  Serena is lost and disoriented, but refuses to give up the pursuit of the man she knows happiness with–the man she lives to love and protect.

A part of me thinks this for myself.  A foolishly faithful part of me believes he has left me in earnest for my own good.  A part of me believes he is still single and lonely, and he only tries to push me to move on by making me feel otherwise.  He is not hurting me, he is encouraging me to find someone who can give me everything I deserve.  I can’t give up on him.

If only such a beautiful romance ever truly existed.

Finding what’s already found.

‘kay guise.  I’m depressed.

I’ve been stuck in this horrible rut for the better part of 2012 now, and I need to make a change in my life.  Except then I start to wonder, do I really?

I remember what my life was like before meeting my ex.  I was content.  I was lonely, but I was content.  I didn’t mind being all alone in my apartment.  I didn’t mind putzing and twiddling and lazy evenings and pizza night.  That’s who I’ve been my whole life.  Pry myself out of bed before sunrise, game all day, parouse the internet, watch a movie in bed, pass out, rinse and repeat.  What changed?  Why can’t I do that anymore?

To be honest, I never found much more than that out of my ex.  He never took me anywhere or acknowledged me publicly.  We stayed in my apartment and did those very things day in and day out.  But I was happy.

I went home this summer after he left me.  Maybe I’m just a baby, but I was devastated.  Suddenly I realized just how alone I was in this city and I couldn’t stand to be around the memories of him any longer.  I retreated.  I paid rent on this stupid apartment for 2 months without being in it once.

I came back to dead plants.  Empty towel racks and tooth brush holders.  Used blankets and an unkempt bed smothered in his lingering scent.  A dirty and depraved flower vase that only months prior had been overflowing with fragrant placeholders of a man’s unassuming affection.

I came home to an apartment rife with the stale, musky penchant of bitter lonliness.

I got kittens.

If nothing else, my apartment now smells of dander and soiled litter.  And I love my kittens.  They’re good company when company is what they seek.  But I’m still void of any semblance of purpose in my life.  I love that I have something to be responsible for now, but to what extent does that really feed my need to be needed?

I feel like I’m searching for something in life that I already have.  “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”–I remember the past.  I remember everything.  So then why am I condemning myself?