Back to Square One

There's always that one who you wish would come back,
even when he took your whole world and painted it black.
You never got over him, and you wish he stayed,
he made your heart pound and put your head in a haze.

But just when you think you're better, he comes back around,
he crawls back into your heart without making a sound.
It takes no time at all to fall back in love,
you have something to believe in; to be proud of.

He fits to you like your favorite sweater,
and you start to think this time could be better.
But in the back of your head, you know it's only a matter of time,
before your walk in the woods becomes a hard, steep climb.

He slowly starts drifting, like a tide from the rocks,
you're mind starts to panic, then goes into shock.
He built you up just to break you down,
and in your own tears you begin to drown.

For weeks you are taken over by your feelings,
and you don't even know how to begin the healing.
Heartbreak turns to hatred, and then to rage,
you put your heart on lockdown inside of a cage.

Weeks turn to months, and eventually to a year,
And yet you're still wishing that he was here.
Although you're still hurt by what he's done,
You're tangled up in emotions; you're back to square one.

He still crosses your mind, every second of everyday,
and you always think, why didn't he just stay?
You start to forgive him for putting your heart under attack,
because after all he's done, you'd still take him back.

I'm a Storyteller

You know how when your mom tells you that you're beautiful, you don't really believe her because, well, mom's are supposed to think you're beautiful! But when a stranger says it, or better yet, a boy, it suddenly means so much more.

I sort of connect that with my writing. My mom and friends have always told me my writing is great, but when a teacher or an unsuspecting classmate tells you, it feels so much different; better. It's a confidence boost, and everyone can always use them. 

When I went to college for a grand total of 25 days, one of my roommates told me that she liked listening to my stories about my life and just listening to me talk in general. She said I was captivating.

Come to find out, when I left school she told my other roommate she couldn't stand how much I talked, and that I talked too much about myself. That kind of turned her original comment into complete trash and lies, and was all around a hurtful thing to hear. And what's that saying? It takes ten compliments to diminish one insult? It's something like that... Anyway, my time at college was pretty sucky, and it has taken me a long time feel okay about my time spent there and my decision to leave. I couldn't help but think, Do I talk too much? Do I talk too much about myself? It made me self-conscious, like maybe other people think this about me too, and here I am writing a blog post about yours truly. 

This old roommate's comment has been haunting me since I first heard of it, and in public settings when I'm expected to share something about myself, I suddenly will feel awkward and nervous about saying too much. It's annoying, because I'm me, and maybe I do talk a lot. And maybe, I talk a lot about myself, but dammit, I think I'm a fairly interesting character! If she didn't want to listen, she didn't have to...

But, there is one place where I talk and I never think about if I'm talking too much. I can't say where, because it is private, but it is somewhere I go, and sometimes I talk. Tonight, I did. And after everything was over, this woman I'd never seen before pulled me aside.

She told me my voice was magical. She said, when I spoke it sounded like musical notes, and she just wanted to keep listening.

This was the nicest thing I've heard in awhile.

She told me I'm a storyteller.

I soaked in her beautiful and powerful compliments, and I could feel my old bitchy roommate's nasty remark suddenly flutter from my shoulders. 

She told me I'm a storyteller. An author. And that is all I've ever wanted to be.

They Needed Me

It started last night.

I moved to Easton about a month and a half ago. And, I've come to find out that when it's raining in Franconia, it's most likely a complete typhoon out in Easton.

Last night, Ben, Jake and I went to see the late show in Lincoln, and we drove the back way home, which goes through Easton and the White Mountain National Forest. At the end of Easton Road - even further than where I live - it's extremely rural and scarcely populated. There's maybe around five houses, all spread out over about three miles. So when you are driving like that at night, it can be a little creepy. When it's hailing, raining and the wind is blowing 30 miles per hour, it's even creepier.

Imagine if you were caught out in that, completely helpless and alone at midnight.

And then, I saw it. This little chihuahua wandering out in the middle of the road in the dead of the night. Our headlights shined on it's cloudy eyes, showing that it was most likely blind.

I leapt out of the car to try and coax the poor little thing into my arms, but it was so frightened. I tried so hard but it just kept running away; breaking my heart. Ben and Jake reassured me that I did all I could do, and guiltily, we drove away.

By the time I drove back out to my house in Easton, about a half an hour had passed. I pulled into my driveway and said to myself, "What the hell am I doing?" There was no way I would be able to sleep knowing I did nothing to help that little dog. So, I put my car in reverse, and headed out towards the National Forest to see if I could find them.

I didn't find the dog though. Instead, I found three other ones. At this point it had to be around one in the morning. These beautiful little creatures were just stranded out here, in the pouring rain, and harsh winds, without a house around for at least a mile. And why on earth were all FOUR of them out here like that? No collars or anything.

I freaked out though. I didn't know how I was going to catch four dogs and then shelter them for the night, especially when I had to be up for work in five hours.

I drove home to try and find a box or something I could put them in since the cat carrier I had grabbed in haste was not going to fit four of them. But then I started to get nervous about how I was going to do this. What if they were totally wild and mean? What if they bit me? Not to mention I'd be out there all alone with no cell phone service...

So I did what any girl would, and called my boyfriend. Being the loyal and caring guy he is, he got up out of his bed at 1:30 am to help me go get the dogs. At this point we didn't even know if we'd find them, but I couldn't sleep knowing I didn't at least try.

But we found them. All four of them, but they were in groups of two. He grabbed the first one and put him in my car, and he almost had the second one but he slipped and the little guy wriggled out of his grip. After that, the dog was pretty well spooked and ran up in the woods. The other two were no success either; they were so scared, they just ran from us.

But at least I saved one. I called him Charlie. It just sort of slipped out, and I didn't even know if it was a boy or a girl at this point. (It ended up being a boy, so it worked out nicely). Charlie stayed the night with me and gave me kisses and wanted to sit on my lap all night. But, by now it was 2:30 in the morning and I had to wake up for work in only a few hours, so I had to put him to bed. He whined a little bit, but can you blame him? He was away from his brothers and sisters and in a strange place with other unfamiliar dogs staring at him through a baby gate.

By 5:30 I was awake. At 7:00 I was out the door, with Charlie wearing a harness and on a leash. I was planning to just bring him to a shelter, but something compelled me to go back to the woods and look for the dogs.

So I did. And I found them.

I scooped one up, but the blind one was petrified. A man in a truck pulled up and helped me, then another man came a little later. The second man finally got a grasp on the dog, and it bit him pretty hard. I felt bad, but I couldn't thank him enough for helping me. I do hope he is okay, though...

So here I was. The crazy chihuahua lady driving around with three dogs that didn't even belong to her. I was convinced at this point that the fourth dog wandered off and didn't make it through the night. I was even surprised that these two were there in the morning, alive and well! I'm so happy they were though.

As I drove into town to try and figure out where to bring these pups, questions kept circling my mind. Who did this? Why did they do this? Do they belong to anyone? I didn't believe this was an accident though. With all four dogs out there, all collarless, pure bred and groomed, I called bullshit. And even if these pooches do belong to someone, I hope they don't get them back! Because why the fuck was no one out there searching for them? Where were their owners?! Obviously, if they have any owners, they are not deserving or capable of giving the love and attention these precious babies need!

I finally ended up getting in touch with a board member of the humane society in Littleton, who happened to be my old principal, Mr. Larcom. His wife met me in town and took the three dogs I saved. I was still worried and upset that I couldn't save the fourth one though. Mr. Larcom was confident he could find the fourth one though.

And he did!

All four of the dogs were taken to the humane society shelter, and are safe and warm tonight.

A lot of people told me what an amazing and wonderful act this was that I performed this past night and day. But, I never even thought of it as anything other than obligation. When I first saw that dog, I knew I had to do something. They needed me; I could feel it in my bones. Who knows how many cars drove by them last night and this morning and just kept driving? I don't want attention or to be thanked for helping the dogs, I just want to share my story and be grateful that they are okay and safe now. I pray that these dogs find a loving, healthy, and comfortable home to live in and they can start off their new and happier lives.

When I talked to Mr. Larcom, I mentioned how bizarre it was that all four of these beautiful and healthy dogs were out here like this, yet they had no collars, and no owners were looking for them. He informed me that there is a puppy mill in Lisbon, and when the dogs are no good for breeding anymore they will do terrible things to get rid of them.

Such as dump them in the middle of the national forest during a thunder and hail storm where they can be left to die.

I realized that this was one of those times in life where the terrible and unbelievably cruel realities of the world were staring me right in the face. Nobody ever wants to believe that humans are capable of doing something so nasty and harsh, but then there's times when it's right in front of you, and you have to step back and reassess your life. You have to think about and look at if you are doing anything to make the situation better.

I'm happy I was able to make this particular situation better, and it's only inspired me to try and become involved with the Humane Society to try and help other animals in trouble.

It's remarkable that I made such an impact of these four dogs lives today just because I was doing what needed to be done; no questions asked.

What's more remarkable, though, is that their four little noses, eight little ears, and sixteen little paws impacted my life, and have enabled me to reassess and alter myself to make sure I am doing my part to help.

They needed me, but I'm starting to think I needed them just as much too.

If They Didn't Already Know Us, Would They Want To?

The other day when it was incredibly slow at work and I was sweeping the floor, my mind started wandering elsewhere. I can't remember what triggered this thought but it seemed like a really interesting idea or question. I started to wonder something, that at first you might think it's outrageous, but after a minute it seems logical.

I wonder if all our parents really like us...

In an ideal world, everyone would be obedient and happy and well, maybe even perfect, if they wanted to be. I truly wonder though, there has to be parents out there who don't like the person their child has become. We feel like just because we're family, we're obligated to love one another, but I mean, who ever wrote that rule?

It's expected of teenagers to hate their parents at some point or another, but is it ever the other way around? Imagine if your kid goes against every thought you've ever instilled in them. Every belief, rule, joy, or hate is the exact opposite of your opinion. What if your kid is mean to you, and truly hates you? Do you hate them back? What if they bully you, just like they might bully other kids? Do you like them still?

I can't exactly relate, because I feel like I have a balanced and even friendship with my parents. I mostly tend to agree more with my mom, and believe a lot of the things she does. We have less conventional views than my dad, but I don't think he dislikes me over it.

Imagine this though, if we went to high school with our parents, would we be in the same social group as them? Would they accept us into theirs? What if we were fellow parents or just people, living in the same town as them, would they like us?

I mean obviously there are the crazy people who hate their innocent children for no reason, but I'm talking about the normal parents. Obviously when we're young, our parents love us because we're just these bundles of joy who cry a lot and poop our pants, but they love us. But when we grow up, become the people we're going to be for the rest of our lives, we change. We have opinions, and feelings, and freedom of expression that could really differ form our parental units. If we weren't related, do you think they'd even look twice at us or think to talk to us if we were just another person in the room?

Think about it...

kpk

I rarely go on Tumblr, but when I do, I always love it when I come across these little poems by the author kpk. I tried googling who kpk is, but nothing came up. That was a shock. These poems are so simple, but they are so powerful; so beautiful. Usually they are wrapped up in sorrow and heartbreak, but they are so sadly incredible, they have me hooked. I chose to include this one on the left because I can relate to it, from both sides. When I get mad, I usually just fall silent. I don't say anything because it's easier than confronting what the actual problem is, and because I need to really sit and think about what I want to say before I say it, or it almost always comes out wrong and usually hurtful. But I also have been on the receiving side. The side of utter confusion and pain that comes with pure silence. I never understood how you can go from being so close to somebody, whether they are a friend or a lover, and suddenly, they just stop talking to you. They cut you out of their life with a jagged, rusty blade and leave this severed and ugly broken heart as the remain. And, how could that be so easy to them? Did I really mean nothing to you? Was I that easy to just let go of? It truly is the saddest thing. Ever. If anyone knows who kpk is, let me know! I'd like to meet them...

Days Like That Really Suck

You ever have one of those days? You know the kind, when everything literally sucks. Your hair looks like shit, your face is breaking out, and you just so happened to splash the cap full of bleach, you were pouring into the sink at work, right square in the middle of your favorite black shirt. Or how about when you go to toast your english muffin and you accidentally bump the knob up to 9 so your english muffin is now charred and disgusting and you're running late for work, so you decide you'll go hungry all day. The milk is old so you either drink black coffee or no coffee. Your dog keeps farting and won't move away from you. You have probably around 40 loads of laundry to do and no underwear so it looks like you're not wearing a skirt any time soon. There is absolutely nothing on TV.

Those days really suck.

But you know what sucks more, having those kinds of weeks.

Or months.

Or lifetimes.

And so you keep repeating your mantra - whatever it may be. You think, it's going to get better. You make changes, because how is anything going to feel better if you don't try something different?

But then the change is worse than the original plan. Even if the original plan was really starting to make you miserable, at least it was routine and expected, right? And that mantra you keep repeating, it's starting to sound pretty god damn old and crusty, like the tinfoil wrapped thing in the back of your fridge from some restaurant you went to last month. You don't even want to look at it, or touch it because you don't want anything to do with it anymore! It's old news, and it's sour now so instead of disturbing it, might as well just let it sit there and rot because it's never going to change.

Then your thoughts switch from, it's going to get better to, this is never going to end.

And whose to say it is going to end? They tell you to just let it go; be happy.

I'm sorry, I forgot. It is completely realistic to let all your stress, problems, and feelings just vanish into thin air. Because the more you forget about them, the further away they go, right?

No, absolutely not. They just sit there and pile on each other until you completely explode with feelings and frustration. Then you're a complete bitch to everyone because they are the one's who told you to try all the things that didn't work in the first place. But you sort of feel bad for being such a miserable bitch, but then again, if you can admit that you are one what's the issue? So to try and let off some frustration and feel better, you write a blog post about it. But by the end of it, you're still pretty pissed off. And you know what sucks the most? The dog is still farting.