My Magic

When I was little, my mother often asked why i stared at the clouds and everyday objects/occurences…I whispered, “I see things no one else sees…it’s my magic.”

FullSizeRender 2A painfully shy child and young adult, I sat and watched the world in which I only existed–the people around me living full lives; the bubbling creek behind out house; how slowly/quickly the clouds above moved through the sky.

The same intuition I used as child is the reason why i attend screenings of indie films before they become blockbusters, see rainbows in the sun’s rays through a lense when the glaring white light blinds me, and explore pictures from angles others would ignore.

I contain magic because i am jaded.  I don’t see  big pictures…only theIMG_0748
minutia of everyday life.  I see gold in straw, stained glass in amber colored maple leaves, rainbows on dry days…the perfectly quiet, final moments of my beloved dog cuddling with my mother.

No one finds magic where he or she expects it, and being cognizant of the pain and joy surrounding me is often as painful as it is rewarding.

My point is: Listen to the quiet, count your deep breaths, and take an actively passive glance around you–observing the world and its people is magic.



When You Fail at Love


No one understands better than myself the feeling of being in love with someone who does not want you anymore.

Someone is scraping your insides, cutting holes in you with a knife…and you suddenly appear to the world as an interesting creature of substance when, actually, you are completely hollow: with the rejection of love, you’ve become a jack-o-lantern.

Personally, I am terrified of love because the outcome results in a pain, which, at such a degree causes more grief than the moments of bliss were worth. It also reminds me that my existence in my lover’s life did not matter.

My grief has evolved over the years and I have only felt at peace when the one I loved coincidentally loved me back. Self-love has been as dissatisfying as self-loathing…I’ve relied on others to find the good within me and remind myself I am worthy…that I am lovable.

My goal in life is love, and I am a difficult case.

The ones I have loved were never privy to my insecurity—my need for assurance and acceptance; my cracked heart; my incurable, progressive disease; the desperation to be heard and understood and accepted; forgiveness for not being the exact girl they thought I was.

My first true love promised we would stay friends for life and never spoke to me again. The next made excuses and apologies he obviously did not mean.  Another was verbally abusive. Another was scared. They did not know the pain they inflicted.

I’m damaged goods. I do not trust. I don’t really matter enough for them to deal with—even after promises. I have never lied about my mindset or feelings, but I have been victimized, abused, and ignored. Because, in my mind, I don’t matter.

So what do I need?: someone to be my date at a family or holiday dinner; to receive appreciation over a cooked meal—even a thank you; to know I am actually loved and not just a long-term hookup; for promises to be kept.

I have known what it is to be rejected since preschool. I realize I am not normal. I understand I fall in love quickly and out slowly…I am a wild card and I won’t apologize.  I am passionate.  I’m good at a lot of things…but watching someone move on so easily without me will always make it hard to breathe.

All I want is unwavering faithful love. My only desire in life.