There was this girl...

I was hanging out with some friends one night, a possible interest even and I see her across the room.

She didn't make me stumble or catch my breathe but something about her grabbed ahold me.

I wasn't really sure why or how, but I couldn't really shake the idea of what if. Immediately writing it off as just another pretty girl that wouldn't be interested in me we became friends through friends of friends and such...

Fancy shirts, cartoon monsters...late nights shared in badly lit smoky bars. The types of experiences that make up the weekend wars and movie matinee's for the night owls like us...the way the friendships are made in our fantasy lives. Nightlife people are a different breed in that they effectively live two lives. The daylight person may work a 9-5...Selling you your house, teaching your children, maybe cleaning your car, or walking your dog...But when the sun goes down, we change clothes...hairstyles...attitudes. We open up and seek out the others like us.

She was one of those types, all hopes and dreams and motivation. She loved to dance and it was obvious that she equally loved life. Thats all it took :) I was at work today and literally almost tripped at the scent of her hair, her smile...her tight little athletic body that fits against mine so well...

This girl intoxicates me from head to toe and I'm pretty positive she always will...its that feeling that you get when you try a new sport, or discover an instrument and you just know you were meant to play it. That it was something your soul was going to crave for the rest of your days...that peaceful feeling you have when its around...

It was like that...

2:50pm on Sunday is an odd Hour

Such a weird time of day.
Such an obvious "On The Fence" time of day.
2:50...

Not quite 3.
Too late to eat lunch, too early for dinner.
Too late to go to the beach, too early to use that as an excuse.
Too late to start an "All-day" project, still too early to use that as an excuse.
Too bright out for naps, too early for siesta.

2:50...Heh. 25 with a zero.
25 is like that.

Too late to start over, too early to give up.
Too late to change everything, too early to feel like you have to.
Too late to try the easy life, too early to stop dreaming.
Too late to feel entitled, but too early to let others have all the fun.

2:50 is a dangerous hour. 25 is a dangerous age.
You have all your potential right in front of you.
If you've lived at all its not your first time around, your first battle, first goal scored.
Been there done that, should at least be a thought.
Whether its appropriate to speak out loud or not.
25 can mean you've just gathered all your troops. Loaded all your guns, and prepared for war.

2:50 can mean, man its been a great day so far.
Or I'm just getting started.

Well, I'm just getting started. Watch what I can do.

Sober

Its 87 days. I'm still sober... I'm not going anywhere. This world can't break me...This vice won't win. I run my life. I make my days, my own way. 90 days here I come.

hate

I hate you...so much. You make me miserable. You make me want to die. To disappear and be the martyr and well of sorrow in everyones chest for however long it will last. You make me want to write a note blaming it all on you so you will realize how bad you made me feel. You make me want to punch, bite, claw, swing, headbutt, knee and kick anything I can reach. Anything within my body's capacity. You make me want to burn my house down, burn other peoples houses down, just because. You make me want to pick up and leave you wondering. Just move and never come back. And I will tell everyone stories about where I came from and how I had to get away. I'll make most of it up to seem gloomier than it was, and make myself seem more victimized. I'll start to believe my lies and wonder why I don't let anyone else in. When really its because I gave you the key to my lock years before. You make me hate days that should by glorious. It's beautiful outside and all I want to do is hide and dwell on the anger. You make me want to write you mean letters and lash out with all that you accuse me of doing. You make me want to actually do those things so you will be right. So for once you will be accusing me of something that I've actually done. You make me want to be better at everything that I do that doesn't involve you so that I won't feel like I need you anymore. Even though i do. And will. You make me want to do so many sweet things, but I don't because I only feel like you will think I'm doing them to cover some bad thing I've done up. You make me want to do desperate things, like drive up there and see you right now just to prove I will. But the only sensible shred left in me knows that I can't afford it, and my car might not make it, and I have to have a job...which I would lose...So instead I do nothing. And wish you knew I wanted to do something. You cut me so deep and so hard every time you tell me you love me and still go to bed with him. And don't even try to hide it. No one deserves to feel this way, to put up with something like this. But I do, because maybe you will appreciate the sacrifice, maybe you will see that I am putting myself through some of what you put yourself through so that now we might be even. Every self respecting part of my body, that knows I'm better, wants to scream "go to hell" turn around flip you off and never look back. It wants to say "you think you can do this to me? I'll show you" and spend the rest of my life finding ways to spite you. Knowing damn well you will just move on and the anger and vengeance will only consume one of us. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I don't even know how many ways to describe that, and it makes me sick to think of you and someone else. Its the only thought that can physically make me puke to this day. I gagged right now simply typing it. I want to tear into my chest, pull my heart out and actually hand the bloody mess over to you so you will have some concrete proof that it is yours. All the good its doing me now, keeping me breathing so I can spin my wheels and waste someone elses time. You make me want to just hold you and be there and show you that I won't let you down like you think I will...if it were possible its all I would do every moment of every day...and you won't let me...or let yourself try again...but you won't let go either...why won't you let go? you try to force me to do it so many other ways...maybe so it won't be on you? So you won't have to deal with the fact that you might have made the wrong choice? years from now when we are different people in different places...would it make it easier if I were the one to walk away? Sorry...I tried, I can't....I hate you so much...

But I love you more...

If It's The Beaches

Don't say it's over
Cause that's the worst news I could hear I swear that I will
Do my best to be here just the way you like it
Even though its hard to hide
Push my feelings all aside
I will rearrange my plans and change for you

If I could go back
That's the first thing I would do I swear that I would
Do my best to folow through
Come up with a master plan
A homerun hit, a winning stand
A gaurantee and not a promise
That I'll never let your love slip from my hands

If it's the beaches
If it's the beaches' sands you want
Then you will have them
If it's the mountains' bending rivers
Then you will have them
If it's the wish to run away
Then I will grant it
Take whatever what you think of
While I go gas up the truck
Pack the old love letters up
We will read them when we forget why we left here

He was never truly tested

So yesterday was my birthday. The first thing I did this morning was get up and go to a Meeting.

I knew that yesterday was a test and the verdict was...

That I had failed miserably.

Apparently this whole week since rehab has been one disastrous failure as far as my recovery goes.

The only thing I seem to have actually done right is to go to meetings and not drink. But in reality I was only buying "Near Beer" instead of none at all. Not sober in any way other than physically.

I haven't been praying, I haven't really been changing me. 

I have been expecting the same people, same places, and same things to somehow make me happy now that I am "different" I have been going through the motions staying up late, stopping in at the old pubs. I haven't really immersed myself in my process. 

I wasn't finding the fellowship, nor was I taking it seriously.

I need to remember that this really is life and death. This is serious. I don't have control, I have the residual effects of the wonderful people from rehab.

I have been trying to carry on as i see fit and not letting "God" control my life and the end results. I need to respect the alcohol. I need to have the FEAR.

Everyone saying "I'm proud of you." is only them not knowing any better. Sure, they are proud of me for not drinking, it is a small victory, but nothing to be proud of, per say.

Anyone can just not drink, for what? 43 days? I've even done that before. This is no uncharted territory for me. I have lots of work to do and much to look forward too because it will undoubtedly get better.

I have however learned how to recognize when that voice in me saying I should speak out, is a good thing or not. This morning I knew it was going to be.

There is alot to do today and I am determined to do it well.

Later.

Prepared for the Flood

I was prepared for the way today was going to be.
I don't have a great history for Birthday's. They never have gone quite as planned. Mostly because I rely on my friends to make them fun for me, I mean that's what I have always done for them.
Expectations.
I knew today was going to be a dim one because of my recent choices. I knew coming back from Rehab, that there were going to be a right many people in this town that just plain weren't going to miss me.
Really miss me.
Out of sight out of mind as it goes, fairweather fans.
I was prepared to have no plans and no one to eat a birthday dinner with.
I was ready to have to make my own excitement as it were.

Well the day has come and went. My parents took me out to a nice lunch but that's where the story ends.
A friend came back into town just today for my birthday, and completely bailed on me to go hang out with his roommate. No bowling. No stupid sober games. No nothing. I know its stupid to dwell on and in all reality I am only writing about it to get it off my chest.
I know I'm freaking 25, but a part of me is 12 inside. If you know me, you know this to be a fact.
So the 12 year old inside of me is kicking rocks and pouting his bottom lip out right now, feeling sorry for himself and wanting everyone to know it. I can't help that.
I'm not spoiled, nor do I feel entitled to anything.
But it would have been a pleasant surprise if at least 1 person who were able to spend some time with me...actually did.
Just for the sake of it.

The best part of this birthday? The fact that it's over and I can get on with my life. Tomorrow a friend has planned a funky lunch and then Alanna comes to see me.
At least I'm sober.
24 hours at a time.
Goodnight...

Oh and I have a sponsor now. *bling*