A Better Beginning

A week from today I will be unemployed.

I’m excited. I know someone who’s losing a job usually freaks out, but ever since I knew it was coming I really sat down to think about it.

Maybe I’m in a state of shock? Who knows. I feel fine. I feel good. If my job was a place I would enjoy going to then maybe I’d be more preoccupied in not leaving or getting laid off.

This week my employer notified the unemployment offices about the mass lay off. They came in and had some few presentations that were very helpful.

At the end of the day, with all this new information, and from what I had previously wanted and thought about, I came to a conclusion. Going back to school.

I’ll have an income, thanks to the unemployment. It won’t be much but I’ll manage. And there are many forms of help I can receive for schooling. Not sure what I want to do at the moment, but I do know that this is the time I can do it.

I can’t waste my time sitting at home or jumping right into the next job. This is a great opportunity. That’s why I’m not scared. That’s why I don’t mourn this loss. Because it isn’t one. It’s an ending yes. But an ending that leads to another beginning. A better beginning.

Talking To Myself

I had a long talk with myself the other day. I was in the state of mind where I was lingering, waiting for life to show me the correct way I should be going towards. Usually, with time things come around and you find out what you need to be doing, or changing.

This wasn’t working this time. Time was passing. Days were flying by. Nothing was happening. So I sat. Turned off my music, and I listened to myself for the first time in a long while.

What do I want? Well, I want to be happy. Ever since I have left my ex religion I have a sense of feeling free. I feel liberated. Light. I’m scared to jump, maybe I’ll float away in the clouds. But all in a good way.

How can I be happy? Doing what I want, as long as no one else is harmed of course. I’m not saying setting fire to homes and breaking into banks. I mean going out with friends, having a good time, getting to do things I was once told I couldn’t do, because it would hurt Them, and of course Him.

Who makes you happy? I am the only one that can make myself happy. Sure, I feel happy when I’m surrounded by people I love and want to be with. But happiness has to come from me. If not, I’d be sad and depressed when I’d be left alone, and that’s not what I want either.

Do I want to get back together with my ex? Yes.

Am I bisexual? Pan sexual? Heteroromatic? I have no clue. I know I want to be with my ex. Emotionally, physically, and even if it sounds shallow, yes sexually. Do I still find men attractive? Yes. A friend told me the other day. A straight man, will be straight. Marry a woman. But that does not mean he will not find other woman attractive. That doesn’t mean he’s cheating on his wife either. It just means he’s human.

Can I date my ex, even when she is still in that religion? Yikes. This was a hard one. I thought about this one. But I left it up to her. I told her what follows; They will tell you not to date me. They will tell you I’m under Satans control and that I am a bad influence. If you continue they’ll talk behind your back, they’ll whisper. They won’t trust you. They might even take some church privileges away. If you want to date me, go ahead. But, I don’t go to church, I don’t see them outside of church, I’m never around them. But you are. You’re the one that has to deal with them. And I will not live like them anymore. I have my own rules, my freedom. If that’s what you want, it’s your choice.

She said she didn’t care. The last thing I want to do is hurt her. But I miss her.

What’s next? Unemployment. School. I want to go back and learn something, anything really. I will look at my options and figure something out.

As a side note. Everything’s been settle. I know it’s the calm before the storm but I’m not worried for some reason. I’m ready to take on what ever is next. For now I’m good. Good where I stand.

Playing With Fire

It’s been a couple of wild weeks. I haven’t had anytime to sit down and notice where I am. I’ve been running and running down a path that I didn’t notice all the signs I was passing.

I am happy. Happy sounds too good to be true. I am content. No, I am ok. Yeah that feels more right. If I were to be content I’d have all of my debts paid. If I were to be happy then I’d be sippin something sweet at a beach with more than 10 digits in my bank account.

But nonetheless, I am here and I am ok.

For now.

See what I did there.

I’ve been texting my ex on and off. I’m trying to get my feelings together before I make any brash decisions. I like her. I like her a lot. I don’t like the religion she is a part of, and that I once was. But I like her. She makes me feel something, something inside of me. In my stomach, then my heart.

I know I like her and want to be with her because there is no validation that I need from anyone any more. From who? Church friends? Nope, they don’t talk to me. Other church goers? Nope, I haven’t seen them in months. My mom? She actually doesn’t want to get involved in this. And my non religious friends? Well, some wouldn’t care. Some would. But it’s my decision. I always end up doing what I want anyways.

Today she texted me saying that she had to say something that she’s been holding back.

After I was done reading what she had wrote I was on the verge of tears. God. What have I done? What did I do? Did I make such an impact on this one person to want me this bad she is willing to to leave everything behind just for me?

What do I do?

I have to be careful.

I’m now playing with Fire.

Like Old Times

Don’t you hate it when you make up your mind on something, you are (or you think you are) sure about the way you feel, and then something happens and then bam! You’re like, oh, ok. I didn’t know that was lodged up in there like that, thanks heart. Next thing you know you’re flooded with all these emotions all these feelings you thought you were over with. But they’re there, they’re real.


I saw my ex girlfriend today. I texted her on Wednesday that I needed to see her. I’m not really sure what came over me that I needed to speak to her. I needed to tell her what was going on. I needed her to move on from what ever it is she was still feeling for me. Just like I thought I had.

When I saw her today. When I saw her walk in through the door. I couldn’t help but smile. I couldn’t help but think of all the good times we had together. I couldn’t help but think of how she smelled, how she laughed, how she felt when she wrapped her arms around me.

She is beautiful. Like a warm and calming sunset.

She sat down. I immediately wanted to hold her hands like old times. It was like an instinct. I had to stop myself.

She smiled back at me like nothing ever happened. As if I hadn’t broken her heart. As if I was still her hero. As if she didn’t cry every night because we weren’t together.

We talked. Almost for two hours. It felt like 20 minutes. I told her how I felt. I told her I didn’t think this religion was for me. I told her why. I told her everything except about my sexuality.

I held that in. Like the dirty clothes you hide away from visitors. How can I tell her something I don’t even know myself? I told her I was very confused. I told her I didn’t know who I was supposed to be.

I have millions of people telling me to be someone and other millions telling me to be someone else. I can’t even hear my thoughts.

She said she understood what I was trying to say. She said it was ok for me to feel that way. My feelings are valid. I can feel this way.

I missed her. I really missed her.

The way her curly hair fell effortlessly on her shoulders. The way she smiled at my lame dad jokes. The way her eyes stood on mine when we talked.

We hugged when we left. It was a hug that we both needed.

I don’t know what I want. I don’t know who I am anymore. What I am. I am trying to be the happiest I can be. But this shit it hard.

We said we would keep in touch. I like that. I don’t want her out of my life.

I want to be with her.

There.

I said it.

It’s My Fault She Was Hit

My life is like a really bad written soap opera. Who ever is writing the script needs to do a rewrite, because I’m honestly tired. And it’s getting too out of hand.

I was at work when my mom texted me saying that my ex’s mom wanted to talk to her in person. It was rather strange for me. Immediately all the thoughts flooded to my head, did she find out? Did she see something online about me? Did she see me celebrate my birthday?

When you don’t know the facts the mind can be one of the most creative places ever to exist. That’s where my mind went to. My deepest fears.

She then asked if we could talk when I got home. I messaged her yes while I was shaking my head no. Was I about to come out? I prepped myself. What was I going to say? How was I going to tell my side of the story? How was I going to explain it?

I got home and things were more quiet than usual. As if someone sound proofed the rest of the world from our home.

She was ready at the kitchen table. Calm. Gathered. I sat on the other side. She had been crying. I could tell by the way her eyes look. Tired, concerned, and irritated.

What came out of her mouth next was not what I had rehearsed on the drive home.

My ex’s father had hit my ex. Across the face. Bloody nose and everything.

I felt cold. I felt terror. I felt like I should have been the one to take the blow. I deserved it anyway. I put her in the line of Fire. I used her as a road block, as a speed bump, something to help me run and hide from who I really am.

I asked her why. What happened? I could barley manage the words out of my mouth. It was dry. I needed water. I felt faint. I almost threw up.

She told me that she’s been sad ever since our break up. She’d been depressed. She’s been missing.. me. She’s been angry, furious. Why? At who? Her father. Because I put that in her head. Because I told her things weren’t going to work out because her father was too over protective. Because he would never let her spend time with me. Because he would never let me go over. Because he would never let me see her. Because he ruined our relationship.

It’s my fault she was hit.

It’s my fault she took too much and finally screamed her guts out to her abusive father.

It was my fault he didn’t take it well. I turned her against him. I did.

It’s my fault.

I feel like all this time I’ve been carrying gallons of gasoline, but it’s been leaking for the longest time and everything behind me is now catching fire.

When will the fire catch up to me?