THE TRUTH IS MESSIE…

My e-journal, all the nitty-gritty, overly-emotional, sappy stuff…

September 12, 2016

Filed under: falling in love,goodbye,Honesty,LIFE,POETRY — MESSIE @ 2:02 am
Tags: , , ,

The Lovers’ Noose… a poem

You took my hand, promised to never ever let it go.

Saying “Baby, let’s just take this nice and slow.”

Then you fastened the rope, hung the noose;

held me close.

With a twist and a tug; tied a knot—then you pulled.

Yeah, you pulled so tight ‘til I gave in.

‘Til I was yours.

Heart, body, and soul.

A clever rouse, I should have known.

I was right there. You were so close.

Now we’re enemies and adversaries; each other’s greatest foe.

Oh, how did I not see it, how could I not know?

With your sweet kisses and pretty words,

Reeling me in just to cast me right back.

Over and over again.

Then out of nowhere, not a word, you just turned.

But you never returned.

You dug the hurt even deeper, made it worse.

You preyed on all my deepest fears.

I swear I must have cried an ocean’s worth of tears.

For you.

And I still remember those moonlit nights.

I replay the images over in my mind.

Not often, but sometimes.

Tangled together, your body and mine.

Feelings and emotions, always felt but never spoken.

Alone in the dark, with no one to witness or see.

No one to hear or ask me why.

As I break the silence, close my eyes and cry.

I travel back in time.

I know the fury will come soon enough.

It always does.

Do you remember the broken glass?

The accusations you threw that I threw right back?

I do.

I remember all the lies,

The ones I couldn’t forget if I tried.

(And I really did try).

How you claimed your innocence in the public’s eye.

How you played that victim card of yours to the nines.

When you said the blame was all mine.

But you know, that’s just fine.

It’s your conscience on the line, not mine.

How it’s come to this, how it went that far, I’ll never know.

We said no strings, no hearts.

No falling in love.

But then I fell.

I fell so hard.

And it was good, ‘til it just felt so wrong.

‘Til all that mattered; who I’d be and who I was, was gone.

‘Til there was nothing about you left for me to love.

Finding comfort in the fact that it was over with and done.

That the storm and the worst had passed.

Even hurt like that…it doesn’t last.

‘Cause someday.

When you’re ready, when the time is right.

You’ll forgive, you’ll forget.

You’ll learn to trust again.

To live in the now, not then.

You’ll find someone new to love.

And you’ll box up the past.

Push it to some dark, deep place in the back of your mind.

To be forgotten for the rest of time.

Have no doubt, you’ll find your way.

You’ll find your purpose, your place.

Where you stand in the middle of it all.

I promise you will figure it all out, somebody, somehow.

You WILL find yourself.

Your heart will heal, your soul will mend,

The world will right itself again.

And as daunting as it will seem

(and it will for quite some time)

Just know.

You’ll get through the hell.

You’ll move on.

It may feel like you can’t, that you won’t.

Just breathe, just believe.

Just hold on, just be strong.

Be patient.

It just takes time.

Trust me.

You’ll survive.

-JLR-

9/12/2016

 

Our Skeletons. May 25, 2016

Filed under: #NYtoTN,family,goodbye,LIFE — MESSIE @ 12:22 am
Tags: , , , ,

I’m going back. To Nashville. I’m going HOME. Yes, because that IS what Nashville is to me, it’s HOME. Not here. Not anymore. A home is a place where you feel loved and protected and safe and wanted. And I don’t feel any of those things here. I should. My family is here. And therein lies the whole of the matter. There’s this saying that goes “…sometimes it’s funny that the people you’d take a bullet for, are the ones pulling the trigger.” It’s true. With my family, it is SO true. My “family”.


You know, there was a time when I would have gone to bat for any one of them, no questions asked. A time when I actually believed they were good, loving people. When I would have said that while “sure, they’re a bit dysfunctional, but what family isn’t” and defended them to others…to myself. Growing up, I didn’t really think much of the dysfunction, you know? It was just the norm. The fighting, the secrets, the cops being called on nearly every holiday or family get-together. I ignored it, hid it. On some level, I think I was probably ashamed of it. I mean, our house wasn’t the place for birthday parties where you invited your friends from school or sleepovers. There was just too much yelling and drama for that. The older I got and the more skeletons that came out of the woodwork—the more I realized just how selfish and callous and oblivious they could be. I finally started to see these people for who and what they really were. My grandmother—the woman I’d pretty much looked up to and idolized my whole life—I saw her for the controlling narcissist that she is. She’s the matriarch of the family, through and through. Right down to who holds the reins and what is and/or isn’t. She’s spent her whole life raising kids. She loves kids. It’s the ones out of pull-ups and grade school that have opinions of their own that she despises. Oh, how she loathes anyone and everyone who dares to even breathe a word in opposition to her. Heaven forbid she’s ever wrong about anything. And my mother—well, she wasn’t much of an enigma. I’d figured her out long before the training bras came off, so to speak. I guess that happens when you’re five-years-old and you wake up in the middle of the night from a bad dream and Mommy’s nowhere to be found…so you go to the window and watch her getting in the car and leave with whatever guy she happened to be seeing at the time. And while you’d like to say that it only happened once, you can’t. Because time and time again, she put you and your siblings in the 2nd priority slot and never the first. It’s hard when you’re little, you know? You’re five. You don’t understand why your Mommy would rather be with some man and not you. You don’t know why you aren’t good enough, or what you didn’t do for her to love you enough. You blame yourself. As you get older, the clouds lift and everything starts to look a hell of a lot clearer. You start to blame yourself less. You realize that it’s not—that it’s her. And part of you feels sorry for her—because she must be sick or at the very least have something wrong with her to be so cold and disinterested in her own child. But the other part of you—that’s the part that gets angry because you’re not a kid anymore. You know that the decisions she’s making are exactly those…decisions. Choices. A deliberate and conscious effort and action. That what she’s doing is wrong and unfair. You know it and you want her to know it…but you know it’s pointless because in the end, it’s not going to change who she is. That that is who she is. And all you can do is accept it and move on and hope like hell that you didn’t inherit that motherless gene from her that makes you love—for all intents and purposes—but not actually care about your child if and when you decide to become a parent yourself.


I’ve made so many excuses for them over the years and I’m done. I’m just done. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t defend them when my heart’s not in it anymore. And my heart’s not in it. It may be a horrible thing to say, but they aren’t worth it. I came so close tonight to giving in and giving up and cashing in all these chips I’ve collected over the years…because of them. And the fact that they could push me that far and that close to the edge—well, it scares the hell out of me. And I’ve come too far and worked too damn hard to get to where I am right now to throw it all away for them. They’re my family. They’re supposed to have my back. They aren’t supposed to be the ones to stab the knife in it. They’re supposed to be loyal, but they don’t have a loyal bone in their bodies. I honestly don’t think they even know the meaning of the word.


It’s a long story, but there’s been a war launched between my brother and I this week. He’s had his skank of the moment and her kid nearly moved in here. Neither my mother or grandmother want her here and he’s been told, but of course as he always does, he does as he pleases. Because they don’t have the nerve to confront her directly, I did. Well…he didn’t take too kindly to that, or my calling the bitch for what she is: a whore. And I don’t use that word lightly, but she is one. Hell, that’s pretty much his type—blonde, white trash whore. Of course, you can’t dare insult any of his skanks because then he turns the tables onto you—in this case, me. So it was back to the whole “I’m a whore, I’ve slept with half the county, traded sex for coke…blah, blah…” spiel that’s so worn I’m surprised he doesn’t have dry mouth when he says the words. He also tried to punch me in the face—would’ve if my mother hadn’t stepped in the middle—and threatened to kill me. Wait, what were the words… oh yeah… “I’ll bury you.” Yep. And yet, I get told to shut up and just ignore him. No calling the cops or going to family court and getting an order of protection against the bastard because of course, that wouldn’t look well for them. After all, they have the kids to consider. Funny. They’re so concerned about these kids when it’s convenient for them and never when they actually should be concerned. And the kids aside—what about me? Where the hell is their concern over me? Their flesh and blood. Someone they claim to love. Someone they constantly say they don’t want to go back to Nashville. Where the hell is their concern when he’s spouting his bullshit at me? Holding the worst things to ever happen to me over my head? The bastard has held that damn party 9 years ago and my secret over my head for years. But you know what? I’m done caring, of shutting up and letting things go just so he’ll keep his mouth shut about that night—things he read in my journal that he stole—the words and secrets of a scared 16-year-old who had literally just had her entire world turned inside out, who had to cover up and lie because she didn’t want them to think less of her for having made the mistake of going to a stupid party and getting raped. Even so, I’ve come to terms with what happened and the things I’ve done. I’m not a saint, nor have I ever claimed to be. I’ve made mistakes. I made one that night. I’ve made a hundred more in the time since. I won’t deny that. But I won’t stand there and shut up as he calls me a whore and accuses me of sleeping with scores of men and trading sex for drugs when I have never and would never do such a thing. I may not be lily white, but unlike the trash that he whores around with, I can sleep at night knowing my sexual exploits.


Rather than cause a scene or hell—make her leave–what really pisses me off though is that they continue to let her come over—despite both still saying that don’t want her here—ESPECIALLY after all the shit he’s done and said to me over the past few days. And the fact that his smug fucking bastard self is winning is what pisses me off the most. He gets what he wants and nothing changes. Nothing. Ever. Changes. It’s the story of my entire fucking life. And they don’t see a thing wrong with it. They don’t see how their silence is, in essence, condoning everything that he’s doing. Everything that he’s saying to me. I told them to make a choice. Either get rid of her—and stand up to him for me, for once—or I’m done. And they chose to let it be. To “keep the peace” by not making her leave—as in, not get him pissed off by kicking her out. So…they made their choice. And their beds. I’m done. I can’t do it anymore. They aren’t my family anymore. They’ve shown it time and time again that they have no regard whatsoever for how I feel. So I’m going HOME. To Nashville. To the place where I don’t feel like yelling and screaming at the injustice of the people and situation I’m surrounded by every five minutes. The place where I don’t feel like I constantly in a backslide into the past, being dragged under and drowning by memories. The place where I feel like I actually have a chance. A future. Where there are people who actually care—good friends that I might not have known for very long, but that I trust a hell of a lot more than these people I share the same blood with. Those people—they’re my family now. And maybe that’s a horrible and hurtful thing to say, but until you’ve met my family, until you’ve lived with them, been dragged down into their hell where there’s no air and you can barely breathe and you’re alive but you’re just waiting for someone to do the humane thing and let you out of your misery…don’t judge me. Don’t you dare.


As soon as I can make the arrangements, I’m gone. As badly as I want to just pack it all in, get in the car and drive and not look back right this second—hell, at this point I don’t think I care what the destination is so long as it’s a hell of a lot of miles between there and here—I can’t. I’m stuck here, thanks to these damn headaches and the doctors—half of which don’t have a clue and the other half who seem to be getting off on treating me like a guinea pig the majority of the time. Thanks to the lovely state of Tennessee and the even lovelier medical specialists it employs, whom for some godforsaken reason won’t treat a patient with out-of-state insurance, nor someone who doesn’t have full-resident status in the state—despite the treatment being for injuries sustained in an accident that occurred in that lovely state. Oh, the irony! So thus the dilemma I find myself in. I am stuck. I can’t stop treatment—I need it. And I’m hoping like hell that it works. Then there’s the legal aspect—the lawyers and this damn court case. So no, I can’t just stop. So instead, I’m spending my time trying to find a loophole—something—that could fix this little dilemma of mine somehow. Once I figure that out—figure something out—I’m out. Once and for all.


I’m going back.

I’m going HOME.

 

xoMESSIE

 

Scandalous…A Poem February 21, 2016

– Scandalous…A Poem –

Lower me down

Into blankets of silk

Skin to skin

Cradle me close, lover of mine

Bathe me in sin

Over and over, and then over again

Tell me you love me

With feeling this time, like you actually do

And maybe, just maybe I’ll believe it, too

Your touch, such a frenzied-yet beautiful thing

Your whispered promises carry in the wind

The gentlest of caresses against my skin

Pull me in closer, do it again

Just like that

Baby, that’s the spot

A parry, a thrust

The time-old connection where soft meets hard

Your ragged breath against my neck

With you, I’m at my weakest

If it weren’t for the lingering remnants of my pride

I’d beg you to please show me some mercy.

My guard goes down, the façade is gone

In your arms, I’m lost.

Our bodies, they glisten with a most decadent sheen

The aftermath glow of a mutually satisfied,

yet purely self-serving need.

After, when we part,

The vow we make is always the same.

We try our best to hold out; to be strong

But to the world, we’re just pawns

In this hopelessly futile, self-deprecating game.

The world tells us lies

And we console ourselves with the idea that we have time.

Thinking we have more.

When in truth, we have nothing of the kind.

We’re been betrayed

Deceived by fantasies and fabricated facts

Happily-Ever-After doesn’t exist

True love is a lie

It’s a hard pill to swallow

Believe me, I know

It was hard for me, at first, too

To let it all go

But fantasies fade

And sometimes love dies, never was, or just needs to change—

For everyone’s sake.

So with baited breath, we wait.

We glide through life

Believing everything is meant to be

See and do things we aren’t meant to do or see

Until we see the light, slip on life’s black ice

We fall through the cracks

We fall so hard, we fall so deep

We’re not nearly as invincible as we might like to think

You and me

We’re walking vulnerability

Beach sand formed to fragile glass

We heat until we break

Then shatter what’s around us

Hurt the ones we claim to love

We’re flawed, we make mistakes

Just as children starting out so often do

We falter in our steps

We skin our knees, we bleed

It’s what we do

After all, we’re only human,

You and me.

– JLR –

2.21.2016

 

Only Tennessee. January 21, 2016

Low-lyin’ clouds

Birds singin’ all night long

I see the hills in my dreams

And hear the bells, hear the bells in my bones

Never thought I would give in

Now you’re underneath my skin

**

Only Tennessee

Only Tennessee can save me now

Lazy, long roads

Trees bending in the wind

I’m coming home

**

Wild flowers in the fields

In the fields of my mind

I feel the sunshine

It’s coming through

**

Never thought I would give in

Now you’re underneath my skin

Only Tennessee

Only Tennessee can save me now

(Song Credit: “Only Tennessee” — Written By: Claire Guerreso & Daniel Tashian)


I’m heading home to Nashville after this weekend. FINALLY. Even if I didn’t want to go and I wanted to stay her in NY — which I definitely DO NOT!! — I couldn’t. The lease for my apartment–the one I literally only lived in for 3 weeks, by the way–is up at the end of the month, so I have to pack all my things and move into my new place.


This is the part that sucks. The leaving. As glad and as excited I am to be going home and seeing my friends and everyone in Nashville again, I feel sad about leaving my family, the kids especially. When I first got here, back in July, the Twinnies–they didn’t even recognize me. It actually took them awhile to warm up to me at first. And now they’re all over me. Ty especially. He’s such a little lover. He’s always climbing into my lap and giving me hugs. My grams watches them during the day so we’ve made a routine, Ty and I, of taking an afternoon nap. He’ll climb on the bed, take my phone and open up the PBS kids app (all on his own!). He’ll watch the shows for a little while until I tell him it’s time to take a nap. Then he’ll hand me the phone, turn over so that he’s facing me, and then literally curl right up against me and fall asleep. He’s a big-time cuddler and it’s the cutest thing. I’m going to miss the little guy. So much. And Jakey–that kid is something else. He’s got a temper, that one. And he’s a little monkey, too. He’s always climbing on and jumping off from things…he’s totally fearless.


I hate to leave the girls, too–especially with everything that’s gone/going on with Emma and Avie and the whole custody/family court thing. Who knows what the hell their mother has up her sleeve and/or will try to do the next time she gets pissed and feels like being a bitch and taking the girls out of pure spite. Then there’s Angelina–she’s out of control. Her attitude is atrocious and she doesn’t seem to think that she has to listen to anyone. My mother instead of disciplining her like she should, just lets the bad behavior continue–as she’s allowed it to for years. As her first granddaughter, she spoiled the hell out of Angelina. She still spoils her. She let her get away with murder all these years and only now is she cracking down on the behavior…now that Angelina’s 12. Hell, she’s going to be a teenager. If they think she’s bad now, I can just imagine how she’ll be in a couple of years. They’re in for a hell of a time with her, I’m sure of it. And they’ve only got themselves to blame.


So anyhow, yeah. It’s time for me to go. And while I may be leaving, it’s not goodbye. So…I’ll see you on the flip-side New York. ‘Til then…


xoMESSIE

 

You Only Wake Up When It’s Over. October 5, 2015

VERSE:

It wasn’t one big blow that brought our love down
It was the hairline cracks that took it to the ground
Just kept creepin’ over time, spreadin’ like wildfire
It wasn’t one big blow that brought our love down

CHORUS:

Oh we didn’t wanna see
We didn’t wanna believe
The dream was gettin’ colder
Oh, we begged the truth to bend
It’s easier to pretend
Than to see it when you’re sober
You only wake up when it’s over
You only wake up when it’s over

VERSE:

There was so much ’bout you I didn’t realize
There was so much ’bout me I couldn’t recognize
You can only get a clear view, when it’s fadin’ in the rearview
There was so much ’bout you I didn’t realize

BRIDGE:

Oh we didn’t wanna see
We didn’t wanna believe
It’s easier to pretend
Than to see it when you’re sober

You only wake up when it’s over
You only wake up when it’s over…

(“Wake Up When It’s Over” – Michael Logen & Maren Morris)



**

Why, oh WHY, is it that it’s only in hindsight that we see all things in 20/20 perspective?

**

Why’d we first have to fall before we learned to stand? Why did there always have to be a lesson to be learned…why couldn’t things just be what they were? Simple. Easy. Uncomplicated. Why couldn’t it have just gone our way for once?

**

Why weren’t we satisfied until we’d broken and destroyed one another? Why did we toss around the words that cut the deepest? Why didn’t we take the high road and bow out gracefully? Left with our dignity? Why’d we let it go that far? Why didn’t we stop ourselves? Why’d we make excuses when we knew it was wrong? Why’d you get off so easy–how’d you, of all people, get to play the victim card? Why’d you have to go and make forgetting you easy but forgiving you  so damn hard? Why?

**



 

 

Singing Those Small Town Blues. July 1, 2015

So, I seem to be on a bit of  a lyric kick this week…[ in case you haven’t noticed from recent posts 🙂 ]

 

 

Today’s lyric pick is one from the one-and-only, incredibly musically-inclined, (and so damn gorgeous, to boot) emerging artist otherwise known as SAM HUNT. I just love everything about his songs. The lyrics of which are absolute perfection. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was to have missed his performance at the CMAFest last month. But lesson learned : buy festival tickets early in advance next time. Anyhow, the particular song that happens to be my muse for today’s post is called “Breakup In A Small Town”. With everything that’s been going on with the Bestie and her significant other these past couple of weeks–and my own not-so-pleasant past experiences–it seems fitting to share this track.

 

 

My favorite part of the song–the chorus :

 

**

I guess that’s just how it goes
When you break up in a small town
I see our friends and they put on a show
Like they don’t want me to know
So they give me the go-around

But there’s only so many streets, so many lights
I swear it’s like I can’t even leave my house
I should’ve known all along
You gotta move or move on
When you break up in a small town

**

As with every small town, there are both advantages and disadvantages to living in one. In spite of all the time growing up that I spent resenting my boring,  Upstate New York little hometown, I’m grateful and glad that I grew up in a small town. There’s just something about the dynamic of a small town that will outshine and rival that of a city any day, in my book. The pace is slower, people are nicer and more aware of their fellow citizens/neighbors. And as hard as it is to believe, there’s actually a perk or two about everyone knowing everyone and everything. People look out for one another more…people care. And when push comes to shove–most of the time–they’ll have your back. It’s a comforting thing…knowing you’re not alone…having that figurative safety net.

But what goes up, must come down…and there’s two sides to everything. Small-town folks are fickle people. They’ll just as soon stab you in the back and turn on you as they will come to your defense.  It’s a double-sided sword…this whole “everyone knows everyone” deal. When it’s good, it’s great. But when it’s not–well…then you best run and take cover–that’s all I’m saying. Breaking up in a small town can be just as ugly as one might probably imagine…and that’s putting it nicely.  It sucks to indefinite proportions. And it’s not fair–but that’s just how it goes. That’s life in a small town.

Distance is what typically heals a breakup. And let’s face it–in a small town–there’s no such thing. A breakup is difficult enough on its own, without having to run into or see him/her all the time, every day. Of course, the small-town gossip mill doesn’t help the situation any. People–oh how they love to talk and make up stories and spread rumors–usually with complete disregard for how their words might effect the other person. Simply put, people don’t care. Not one bit. If it’s interesting and newsworthy, they’ll run with it–despite only having half the facts–if any–about it. Nobody thinks about or cares that their lies–big or small–can ruin a person’s life. Or destroy a person’s reputation, damaging it permanently. No one cares about the consequences of their actions, or the level of hurt and pain their words can bring. People are bullies…tearing down others in order to build themselves up, and to make themselves feel good about their miserable excuse for an existence. People don’t consider the person behind the lies and the rumors–or that he/she has the same feelings as anyone else.

I hate it, but I’ve seen it first-hand. I’ve seen how cruel people can be. How resentful and vindictive and destructive some can be. But I’ve seen it happen; I’ve felt it. I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to be afraid to leave your house or go out with friends for fear of who you might run into or see out. I know what’s it like to not want to feed into the rumors and the bullshit, even though it’s killing you to remain silent and you want so badly to stand up and defend yourself–but can’t because doing so will only make it worse. I know what it’s like to drive past a place that holds so many painful, lost memories to the extent that even the few good memories are overshadowed by the bad. All those places…the bar where it all began, the beautiful, grassy knoll where many a secret rendezvous took place, the alley where it all finally ended…all those places, permanently marred by all the pain.

I know what’s it like to be alone in a town full of people, to feel the betrayal of those you once considered a friend. I know what it’s like to carry the burden of guilt and shame everywhere you go. To hear the whispers, see the looks, and know there’s not a damn thing you can say to get them to listen to you, to hear your side of it–to hear the truth. I know how bad it feels and to be so desperate that you’d pretty much do anything to make it stop…to make them stop. I know what it’s like to be accused and found guilty of something you’re completely innocent of.

Most importantly, I know what it’s like to be driven and run out of the place and town you once called home. To feel like you have no other choice but to go because there’s nothing left for you, and because you know you’ll never be happy there…you’ll never belong. I know what it’s like to want to turn back the clock, to make things right. But you can’t because what’s done is done and you can’t fix damage that’s irreversible, no matter how hard you might try, and no matter how badly you might want to.

I know what it’s like to feel trapped. But on the upside, I also now know what it’s like to be free from it all–from everything and everyone that had a role–minor or otherwise–in all your misery. I’m not proud of the fact that I let certain people get the best of me, so much so that–at least in part–they ended up driving me 900 miles away. But I’m not sorry, either. It might have started out with me running away from certain people and situations…but somewhere along the way these past 7 months…I changed direction. I no longer see my moving here to Nashville as me running away from something…but rather, I see it as me running towards something. My dreams, my goals, my future…and my own life that’s good. It may not seem like much–this freedom–but it’s enough. For now.

xoMESSIE

 

Perfect Is Overrated June 29, 2015

So, I’ve gone and fallen in love … with a band. Yep, it’s true. It happens.

 

And the name of this incredible, apple-of-my-eye band, you might ask? They’re called HEDLEY. And I am head-over-heels, crazy feeling in love.

 

Especially with this one track called “Perfect”. Its lyrics are literally, well…perfect. 🙂

 

This chorus, for instance…

**

I’m not perfect but I keep trying

’cause that’s what I said I would do from the start.

I’m not alive if I’m lonely, so please don’t leave.

Was it something I said or just my personality?

I know I’m not perfect but I keep trying

’cause that’s what I said I would do from the start.

I know I’m not perfect but I keep trying…

**

I mean, come on, who hasn’t been there before…who hasn’t stared at the retreating back of a person they liked–or maybe even loved–and wondered what they could have done or said to make him/her stay? We’ve all been there. Well…most of us, anyhow. And us girls especially–we’ll literally analyze every moment, every conversation, every word spoken…rethink every decision we ever made, every action we took…and when we finally (it’s a matter of WHEN, not IF) fall to the proverbial rock bottom, it’s ourselves we hold liable and assume are to blame…even when we’re not. It doesn’t matter who does the walking away…we blame ourselves for the loss…the failure. At first it’s superficial, then the blame and self-doubt goes deeper…under the surface. The blame becomes internal…more personal. We start to question our looks/appearance, our personalities, our self worth, and ultimately our identity as it relates to who we are. We start to circle all our faults and flaws and insecurities with this figuratively bold–albeit invisible to anyone but our own self–bright red permanent marker. We get paranoid and neurotic and we start to obsess over these so-called “flaws” until the obsession and  all those doubts begin to cloud our judgement and take control of our lives…until it consumes us.

Until it destroys us…and everything/everyone we love and care about–though unintentional–becomes collateral damage. We don’t mean for it to happen, but it happens all the same. Naturally, it’s different for each of us. Some are fortunate and just so naturally complete in their self-awareness that they can handle the fall-out with little to none lingering/lasting damage. And then there’s the rest of us who are just not that strong. That can’t let go that easily or move on that quickly–acting as if nothing had ever happened.. Some of us are dizzy with doubt and end up allowing ourselves to succumb to all the guilt and insecurity. Some of us have lost faith in ourselves and aren’t able to get it back. We put too much pressure on ourselves to be perfect…to fix those imperfections…if not to win him/her back, then to be at least prepared for the next time, and that next someone. Until eventually, it becomes a control thing. A way to keep some sanity and control over our lives. We change ourselves to fit the needs and wants of another…and we lose ourselves in the process. Until it becomes less about that person and/or about what happened and more about fitting the “ideal”… that state of being and achievement that we call perfection. We starve ourselves to fit the status quo, to blend in because standing out is far too terrifying for us to even consider. In the blink of an eye it seems as though everything that we once were ceases to exist.

And all the while, we fail to see the reality of it all…the reality of what and who we are. It’s a vicious cycle, that perfection business. Some reach the pinnacle…and others spend their entire lives reaching for it.

**

When you’re caught in a lie,

and you’ve got nothing to hide,

When you’ve got nowhere to run, 

and you’ve got nothing inside. 

It tears right through me,

you thought that you knew me,

you thought that you knew me…

**

But its as we all know…imperfection is inevitable. And you shouldn’t have to change yourself for anyone. And if they truly care about/love you…they won’t ask you to. They’ll love you just the way you are…

xoMESSIE

 

 
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