Currently Listening Everytime We Touch By Cascada .: Everytime We Touch :. see related

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My week was full of photography.

A little of my handywork...and yes that's me  

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Steven finally got phone calls today.  My phone's been ringing off the hook since he got the chance to use his cell.  I forgot how amazing it felt to be dreaming of someone only to wake up to their call.

Since I last wrote, all hell broke lose as the final chapter of what would be the constantly twisting book of Joe and I was written, and finally closed.  It was a story of lies, betrayal, revenge, and hatred, but I guess I can't truly expect that we would end any other way.  He was, in essence, the most bipolar relationship I've ever had.  A rollercoaster ride I never knew I was getting on.  I was expecting a happy ending, and all I got was a two faced nightmare.  So leaving aside his story of a new fiance and the horrid level I stooped to to get revenge and closure I can say that I finally found truth.

I found truth in our relationship from the mouths, and emails, of 20 some odd girls that he also called "baby".

From the 10 or more who were professing their love to him as he had been doing to them for months upon months.

I uncovered a Joe I had never seen.

An immature and arrogant little boy who bashes those who are different from him and is ignorant to those who are truly better.

(By the way...I would be under both labels)

He tried to tell me I was in love with the uniform and not him.  Given my past habit of military men, I would be tempted to believe him if not for the fact that I HATE that same uniform with everything I have in me.

That uniform is what has taken away the only men I have ever loved.  It's what sent Justin to Iraq, it's what turned Joe into a monster, and now it's what keeps Steven away from me day and night.

I'm in an awful bind because I'm realizing how right I was before in telling Steven I'm not ready to be with someone else.  Joe kept me convinced in complete and utter bliss for over a year.  How do you trust someone else after that?  Joey was supposed to be the relationship that showed me I could trust men.  He was supposed to prove to me that not all relationships would turn out as awful as Justin and I.

And he did...he proved to me that some can be worse.

So I turn to Steven, who promises the same thing.  He promises he loves me.  He promises that I can trust him, that he'll be different.  He vows that my exes are shitbags and that he's going to be the one who will give me hope again.

I want so badly to believe him.

I want so badly to have my happy ending.  My fairytale I've been searching for for so long.

But I can't be hurt again.  I can't handle it.

I hate the uniform, and have realize that dating a military man is truly like dating someone with a terminal illness.

Follow me on this one...

When dating someone in the military you always know that it'll be cut too short.

You know that one day they'll be taken away from you; if not physically then emotionally; if not emotionally then mentally.

You know that there will be good days and bad days, and as time goes on the bad days will get worse and more frequent, and the good days will be fewer and fewer.  And as much as you pray for the good days, you still have to spend that time preparing yourself, because you know the bad ones are just around the bend.

When dating someone in the military you have to get used to the fact that they're going to leave you, and you have no greater joy than recieving a letter or a phone call that says "hey, I'm alive today".

You hold onto every moment you have together, and want nothing more than to make them happy at all times.  Because you know when you're apart, all hell breaks lose on them.  And unfortunately there's always that chance that they won't be coming home.

When dating someone in the military you eventually have to come to terms with the fact that they can't be superman.  That they're not invincible, and neither are you.  You have to accept it, and you have to embrace it.  You have to love them unconditionally, and understand that the military WILL change them.  That they won't end up the same man you used to love.  That on bad days they will say things they absolutely don't mean, and on good days, it still may be hell.

You have to understand that they're just as scared as you are.

That they're more scared than you are.

And that if they aren't showing it, neither should you.

When dating someone in the military you have to be stronger than you are.  You have to be able to carry the weight of many people on your shoulders.  You have to know when to ask questions, and when to be happy in your ignorance.  You have to know that crying doesn't solve anything, and sometimes being alone doesn't have to be that bad.

You come to understand that when they change, so do you.

I'm terrified of jumping into this world again, and yet I fit in so easily, it's almost as if that's where I belong.

I belong in Hell...Military Hell.

I want nothing more than to give Steven this chance.  For the shit he's already had to deal with, he deserves it.

It's scary.  It's hard.  It's exactly the opposite of what I want, yet he's exactly what I need.

I believe in fairytales.

I believe in true love and soulmates and miracles.

And I'll keep believing no matter what.

I'll keep believing until I find my happy ending.

Who knows, maybe it's closer than I think.

I spent most of last night staring at the sky through the trees in my backyard.  The grass, wet and itchy, sliding along my back while the smell of cigarette smoke enveloped me.  I laid there for near two hours, trying to decide which stars were stars and which were just airplanes and wondering how many of them were just purely my imagination...Lord knows I was loaded enough to see anything at that point.  I made almost as many phone calls as I smoked cigarettes, but still barely found any company...barely found any comfort.  Because you see, my cigarette-crazed-star-obsessive-phone-dialing was completely driven by guilt - and anger - but mostly guilt.

I realized last night something I should've understood years ago.  Following a lovely visit to my shrink which we won't even begin to diagnose, my mother and I got into one of our heated discussions. ie when mom decides to put religion into a conversation that was otherwise perfectly civil.  Religion is a bit of a touchy subject with me.  My whole life I've been told what to believe and how to believe it.  What God wants you to wear and how God expects you not to have any opinion that would dare suggest that anyone in the church - especially your parents - could ever possibly be wrong about anything.  Ever.

Had I been told when I was younger that the sky was purple and my sister was an alien (wait, I think someone did tell me that...) I would be expected to not only believe in it, but argue anyone down who thought otherwise.  I know that this isn't how Christianity is supposed to work, and I'm not saying my parents are bad people...I just think they're a bit - misguided - sometimes, and absolutely confused as to what exactly the term "parent" entitles them to.

I for one am very opinionated.  Always have been, always will be.  No amount of groundings or beatings as a child could take away that spirit.  And now it's biting me in the ass.

Anyways, I was getting to the point in which my mother inserted religion into a conversation that would have otherwise drowned in the background music and been laid to rest as another car trip we actually made without trying to kill each other.

Damnit we were so close.

Well, my mother began by telling me I didn't have a high enough level of understanding because I didn't believe in God and if I was smarter, I would have faith in Christianity.  We argued for a while about how I wish she would stop trying to shove her religion down my throat and just respect my beliefs for what they were.  We discussed loudly for a while about how she doesn't feel I respect her faith because I don't believe as she does.  We screamed for a while when she told me that she was running a Christian household and that if I didn't believe in God I could move out.

...preferably that night.

Which was about as much shit as I needed.

And so in pure Chelsea-esque fashion, I blew my shit.  I exploded in a rampage of near obscenities never before known to my ears.  I made up new semi-cuss words that were just bad enough to get my point across but not bad enough to start a whole new fight that I didn't even want to begin.

This is where my mistake comes in.  Somewhere between my mother telling me that I was - unbeknownst to me - a drugged up miserable whore because I didn't believe in God, I told her that she was the basis to all my problems.  I told her that she was the basis to my sister's problems.  I pretty much said everything I could to hurt her short of telling her I hated her.

Now please understand, I love my mother.  But I don't appreciate being called stupid for what I believe in.  I've repeatedly told her that I respect her faith and would just like to agree to disagree.  I go to church, I let her pray over our meals without a peep, but to tell me that I am misguided and miserable because I'm not a Christian, crosses the line with me.  Also understand that I wasn't lying to her.  I've been very happy lately, and most of my upsets come when my mother begins to yell that the house isn't clean enough, or decides to make it known how awful and lazy I am.  She almost daily finds one way or another to attack my faith - or lack there of.

But I hurt her.

She hurt me and I found any way I could to strike back.

All day long she's stared at me with this look.  Seemingly civil again we act as though neither of us said the horrible things we did.  We act as if we barely know each other only speaking when we need to.  But when she looks at me...

I know I hurt her.

Words can't be undone.  I learned that today.

I should've understood it long ago.

It's the reason behind my hatred for Justin.  Because once he told me I meant nothing to him.  And all the erasers in the world couldn't fix the mark that made on me.

It's the reason I have so much trouble forgiving Joey.  Because as much as I love him, as much as I want to fix this...I know that when I look at him, all I'll see is a man who hurt me.  The man who called me names and lied.  The man who broke my heart.

It's the reason Steven and I have moved so fast.  Because that one night.  That one night he accidently told me he loved me.  That night the world stopped, and we both knew he couldn't take it back.

Where do you go once these words leave your mouth?

Once your pent up emotions are vomitted forth - uncensored - as your deepest fears and strongest desires fly out into the open air, only to be caught by, more likely than not, disbelieving ears?

Sometimes it seems like I'm living in a movie.  Complete with laugh track, special effects, and horrible actors my life is the low budget indie film that only your friends go to see.  And even they only watch because you force them.

I'll say something I truly know shouldn't be escaping and it almost appears as though the world starts moving in slow motion.  As if mid breath I know I'm about to trip and fall on my face and all I can do is stare blankly at the floor coming closer and closer and brace myself for the pain.  As if this uncensored part of Chelsea can't be stopped once the vomit starts.

As if something deep down is forcing it out without my control or consent.

I don't want to hurt my own mother.  But I know that this isn't something I can apologize for.  Taking back some means taking back all, and my beliefs are the one thing I absolutely will not compromise.

Words can't be undone.

Hearts can't be unbroken.

No matter how much we try.  No matter what we do, or think, or want.

I pray I can be forgiven.  That this one misstep won't ruin what friendship we've built.

Speak when you are angry, and you'll make the best speech you'll ever regret.

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Then he asked me
What does that mean
What's another word for desperate?

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Don't make excuses.

I'm not.

To think you could have the audacity to apologize for the most unforgivable crime.  Yet not have the balls to prevent it in the first place, or to call and talk to me in person instead of waiting two weeks for a letter...it makes me sick.

I wish you could see me now.  I wish you could see how much I've changed since the last time we saw eachother.  I'm a shell of my former self.  An alcoholic.  A junkie.

Six months ago, I thought I'd be happy by now.  I was supposed to be living in Hawaii.  I was supposed to be planning my wedding in December.

OR WAS THAT JUST A SICK JOKE TOO??

It's hard to pretend to be okay.  It's hard to write an email without screaming at the computer.  Without wanting to claw my own eyes out because of frustration.  I can't think your name without crying.  I can't look at your picture without feeling regret.  Regret that it didn't work out, regret that I still wanted it to.

Yes I'm moving on.  Slowly.  It's harder than you know.

The other night I rolled over while he was sleeping and said "Hey Joey, wake u..."

I stopped in shock.

Because even in my dreams you're on my mind.

The other night he told me he loved me.  I stared back in disbelief.  Deer caught in the headlights of a car, I couldn't even move.  It took me over a week to say it back.  Don't you understand, he cares about me.  Someone cares about me.

DON'T TAKE THAT AWAY.

You were everything to me.

You made the decision to throw it away.  Don't you dare say you love me.  You don't know the meaning of the word.

You wanted to be dead to me, well now you are.

But we can't just leave it at that can we?

You just had to apologize...you had to make me miss you.  You had to make me cry, knowing that the person I've been leaning on these past few weeks isn't here now.

Months ago I saw in you everything I wanted to be.  Everything I needed in life.  Now I see everything that I've become.  This isn't what I wanted.

I start therapy again in a week.  My parents think I need help because I don't smile anymore.

If only they knew.

Yet lately I've been happy again.  For the first time in months.  For the first time since I was with you last.  Don't blame me.  Don't say that I replaced you.  Because without your sick jokes.  Without your fucked up mentality of thinking you can play with me like I'm some life sized Joey toy...I'd still be yours.

I'd still be waiting for you.

I never gave up on you.  Not until you decided to throw it all away.

I haven't tried to be with anyone else even though I haven't seen you since October.  Take it or leave it, I was in love with you.  It's been over seven months since then.  I have a right to move on.

I had every intention of waiting until March 2009.  Not because I had to, but because you were my dream.  You were my fairytale.  Now it's nothing but a nightmare.

Strange how one fucked up decision can change your entire life, eh?

Think of me what you want.  All it is is assumptions.  My judgement of you is from your direct actions towards me.  It's from your apathy, your complete and utter hatred for everything I am.  It comes from all the times you called me names out of anger.  For the times you blew me off just to come back to me when you were bored.

Fuck you.

You broke my heart.  You made me feel worthless.

If you really care, you'd let me be happy with someone else.  It's hard enough as is.  It kills me to miss you.  It kills me to love you.  Because I hate you so much and I don't know how to handle it.

You were a mistake.

You were a mistake because you told me you wouldn't change and yet you've let everything that has happened morph you into a monster.  You were a mistake because I thought I could help you.  You were a mistake because I wasted my time waiting around for you, when you don't even believe me when I say there's been no one else.  You were a mistake because you told me you wouldn't turn out just like my ex.  You told me you'd treat me better.  You told me you cared more.

All I can say is, given nothing else, he was honest with me.  Brutal, yes.  A complete jackass, yes.

But at least I know if HE'S still alive.

For the record, I knew you stalked this site.  One of the few people who still knows it exists.  I can see every time you click on a page.

I'm not as stupid as you think.

So fuck your excuses.  Be a man.  Live up to WHAT YOU'VE DONE.

Your situation doesn't dictate who you are.  I know you were never weak enough for that.

You fucked up.  You killed me when you killed our future.  Don't you understand that you were everything that was in me?  Everything that drove me?  I died when you did...because I stopped caring.  Because I went back to that sad little girl who can't deal with life.

You made me wish I was never born.  You made me feel like I could never deserve anything in life beyond this.

Beyond lies, and rollercoaster rides, and half assed apologies.

So why do I want so badly to forgive you?

This is too much to deal with sober...

I expected so much more from you.

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The smell of your skin lingers on me now
You're probably on your flight back to your hometown
I need some shelter of my own protection baby
Be with myself in center, clarity, peace, serenity

I hope you know
I hope you know
That this has NOTHING to do with you
It's personal
Myself and I
We've got some straightening out to do
I'm not gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
I've gotta get a move on with my life
It's time to be a big girl now

...and big girls don't cry

The path that I'm walking
I must go alone
I must take the baby steps til I'm full grown
Fairy tales don't always have a happy ending, do they?
And I forsee the dark ahead if I stay

I hope you know
I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal
Myself and I
We've got some straightening out to do
I'm NOT gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
I've gotta get a move on with my life
It's time to be a BIG GIRL now

...and big girls don't cry

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This week has been the most amazing time I've had in a while.

Dogtags around my neck.  Close to my heart where they should be.

This week I've gained a wife and a husband...

My wifey would be none other than one of my best friends, and long time "lesbian lover", Crystal...

And our mutual husband, Steven, has been by my side twenty four hours a day since Wednesday.  Since last Sunday we've spent nearly every minute talking, which has turned into major sleep deprivation and more emotions than I care to feel right now.

Probably his best and worse attribute is the fact that he's a Marine...

Of course...

Why the fuck do I attract military men like a bug zapper?

He really is a great guy.  He really is making me happy.  He really is helping me through all the shit that hits me daily.  And he really is leaving for more training in less than a week.

Because every good thing I find always leaves too quick.

Luckily, he'll only be gone a couple months...maybe it'll give me time to get over my other shithole relationships and psychotic exes.  Maybe I'll be able to do as he advises and just let it all go.  Maybe I'll stop trying to control my emotions and my surroundings and just be happy.

Despite what little trust and self respect I have left.

Because contrary to what seems to be popular belief as of late...I really do deserve it.

Unlike the others these past few months after Joey, I really do want to be with him.  I really want to be ready and able to have a real relationship again instead of this monochromatic bullshit I go through with everyone else.

Because when I'm with him, I really laugh.

It's been so long since my smiles were genuine.  Since my dreams didn't put me into a chilling cold sweat.  It's been so long since I danced for no reason and fell asleep with a smile on my face instead of tears.

I'd really like to give him my heart.

I just hope the dust and ash that remains of it isn't too small to hold onto.

But I won't obsess.  I won't worry just yet.

I'm gonna let it go.  Let it flow.  Let things happen as they will and hope for the best.

In the least I can hold onto his smell as it envelopes me every night as I sleep.  I can listen to our song forever until I grow too tired to understand the words.  I can taste him on my lips, and feel his heart as if it were still beating against my ear.

In sync with mine.

Just as it should be.

My father stole my cigarettes from me this morning.  He doesn't like me smoking and instead of talking to me about it, he decided to steal from me.  As if not having my one pack would make me never smoke again.

But, you see, the problem is, he doesn't understand me AT ALL.

I don't smoke because I like the taste, or even because I'm addicted.

Unfortunately, my father will never know what you're about to read.

I smoke so that I won't cut off every square inch of my skin.

I smoke so that maybe, JUST MAYBE, I can keep food down today.

Cause I haven't in over a year.

I smoke so that I won't be doing lines of cocaine in the bathroom.

I smoke so that I won't find myself at the bottom of another liquor bottle tonight.

What my father can't understand is that I have PROBLEMS.  That I'm not perfect.

I moved back in thinking I could get help.  I was promised I could get help.  But instead, I get confronted with a father who changed his mind about letting me see a doctor to be put on medication (I "don't really need it"...fuck you), and who's TV shows are more important than finding me time with a shrink.  Finding me time to talk to ANYONE.

What my father will never know is that I hate myself.

I always have.

And I can't shake that feeling.  Not even in my dreams.

I smoke because it takes a bit of that edge off.

I smoke so that late at night, when my mind is churning, I have something to occupy me other than a razor blade.

I hate who I am.  I can't go back to who I was.

I'm tired of being an adult in my parents eyes only when it's convenient for them.

I'd rather die.

But that's it, my only choices.  Death or junkie...

And considering how many times I've tried, death isn't an option...

I refuse to be empty anymore.