*Forgive*

People say that forgiveness is a sign of strength. When you are able to let go of the past and forgive that person who has wronged you, you are the "bigger person." But where do you draw the line? My biggest fear is that these people may mistake my forgiveness for weakness, and proceed to try and hurt me again. However, what they don't know is that I have never been this strong in my whole entire life.
I may be sad at times, mad at others, I may even dwell on what happened, but because I forgave, I don't have that sense of hatred that I once felt. Because I was able to acknowledge where I went wrong in the situation, and where I could have made different choices that could have lessened the drama, I am able to forgive even easier. But what lingers in the back of my mind is, do I forgive too easily? Where do I draw the line?
Everyone who has ever betrayed my trust I have forgiven. EVERYONE! And trust me, some of these people should never have been forgiven. But I did. And I still continue to forgive. It is definitley hard to let down that guard to forgive. And overcoming hard obstacles takes strength. So I guess it does portray my strength. What I have learned, however, is that I do not have to let my guard all the way down and allow that person back into my life. I can forgive, wish them well, and send them on their way. That is the difference between being the "bigger person" and being down right pathetic. In the past I have been pathetic. Allowing someone who has hurt me so much, kicked me while I was down, back into my life. I did not realize until later that by letting that person back into my world, I was being very self destructive.
Now there are a couple of unhealthy relationships in my life that I have recently confronted. One of these relationships has potential to be saved because I let go of my anger and forgave. But am I being too forgiving? Does this person deserve to have me back in their life? Should I forgive and walk away, or should I forgive and try and save what we had? I am torn.
And the other relationship...well, if I stepped out of my denial for just a second, and told the truth, sadly it probably can never be saved. And I think the lack of forgiveness is keeping me holding on. Because with forgiveness comes closure, and with that last relationship I am so afraid of closure. To forgive this person will take all the strength in the world, because along with forgiveness, comes the end of an erra. And I am not so sure if I am ready for THE END.

THE END.

*OnLy YoU*

The worst feeling in the whole entire world is feeling completley and utterly lonley while your lying right next to the person you are so deeply involved with. The one who's touch used to make your heart race and who's presence once made you feel whole. To see those hands that were once at one with yours, or constantly wrapped around your waste, distant and cold. To watch those eyes that were once glued to you and were impossible to tear their gaze from you, now consumed in other things. To look into those eyes that were once entranced by yours, now looking more like the eyes of a stranger. To witness first hand, the ONE that you are so deeply in love with, fall out of love with you.

Even the kisses weren't the same. Sweet, long magical kisses turned into short pecks where eyes were left open focusing on backround activity. It always boils back to the eyes. One day there seemed to be a shift in his stare. It was like a switch went off and a warm, loving look was replaced by a look of annoyance; of irritation. His mind off in a foreign world thinking of other things. Thinking of "her". I wonder if she notices these signs. Everytime one of our many songs play on the radio does she notice the immediate silence that follows? Everytime they come in contact with an adorable creature does she notice how he rips his hand from hers, and walks away lighting a cigerette? Because I am certain these incidents happen. I am so certain because YOU HAVE TRIED COMING BACK A NUMEROUS AMOUNT OF TIMES. So strange since you were the one who wanted to leave, and you were the one who became so disconnected. I guess you really never know what you have until its gone, until it has DISSAPEARED, like I have done. Thought you can just put me away on a shelf like a toy and come get me when you wanted to play again. I can imagine how surprised you must be to find that it didn't quite turn out that way.

You are filling a void by being with her. Its like stuffing a ball into a cut out of a square; doesn't quite fit. Your heart is empty and you are doing anything and everything you can to fill it up. Well tell me YOU, how is that working out?

I want to believe all the sweet nothings you still tell me. I want to call you like you have continuously asked me to do, so my heart can skip a beat at just the sound of your voice. I want to be with you so bad. To get lost in those puppy dog eyes, glide my lips across your caramel chest, run my hands through your thick beautiful black hair but something is keeping me from you. A force stronger than myself is keeping me so distant and SO SELFISH. What an ugly word but yet, I have never felt SO BEAUTIFUL! Selfishly unselfish. Finally focusing on MY life, MY family, MY friends, MY career instead of being so consumed with yours. I have never felt so STRONG, so BEAUTIFUL, so COURAGEOUS, yet so LONELY at the same exact time. But I refuse to resist that last feeling. I will not be in a relationship just because i am AFRAID of being by myself like you are doing. How sad it must be to kiss lips that you wish were mine. I don't envy you at all my love. I don't envy you at all.

*Writers Block*

It is pretty ironic how my mind never takes a break and I am always lost in thought but yet I have been stuck for days on what to write about. Some one can give me a topic to write about, and immediatley, the wheels in my head will start churning and the thoughts will manifest into words. But when it comes to free writing about my life, lately its been extremley difficult. A lot of times I find myself going back to my past for inspiration, however, my past is sometimes hard to think about, so writing about it is usually out of the question. And lately, my life has been pretty boring; no drama, no fights or arguments, no pain- therefore no material to work with. Or is there?????
Drama. What is it about drama that is so appealing? Without drama there would be no books to read, no tv shows or movies to watch, not even a relationship can be maintained without good old healthy drama! HA! But I am serious. Drama is one of the key factors that makes the world go round. Look, I am living proof. I just admitted earlier in this passage that my life has pretty much been dramaless and as a result I had no motivation to write. I definitley think that drama instills a certain kind of fear or angst into a person, that can create change.
Now, please don't get me wrong. I have never been better now that I am living a drama free life. But it is from my drama that I have changed and learned so much about myself. It is my drama that I keep writing about, and my drama that motivates me to be a different person; completley detatched from my old self.
Although, life has been nothing but good to me now that I have tried walking down this dramaless path, the temptation of drama smells Oh So Sweet. The memories of the crazy, psychotic fights which led to the dramatic, hot makeup sessions, is truly enough to make my mouth water. Now, the extent of my dramatic relationship was definitley over the top, but I believe that a little drama in a relationship is needed to keep things spicy. Like I said, drama is necessary for change, and change is vital in a healthy relationship.
So, I guess the solution for my writers block is to create a little drama ;) Or be doomed to write about my new found boring life! I think I'll stick to being bored for a little while longer. After all, I've had enough drama in my life to write for centuries!!!!

*Coincedence? I think not.*

I am sure that every one has heard somebody at one time or another speak the phrase "What a coincedence!". Used to describe something so ironic, so unbelievable, you kind of can't believe it's happening. Well, I'd like to propose a question. What if there are no such thing as coincedences? What if everything that was so astonishing, so unreal that you would rule out as a coincedence, really happened for a reason? From experience, I am beginning to believe the theory that there are no such thing as coincedences, and that in fact, everything does happen for a reason.
I have been in a number of situations in my past where I was left with the question "Why me?!". I am sure you know what I am talking about. Friendships that ended in a tragic fall out, jobs that I really liked which I got fired from, relationships that dramatically ended, all left me with that same question. Looking at the situation now, from a different angle, I see that these situations made me the exact person I am today; and quite frankly I like that person. If I was still friends with those people I would probably be dabbling in the drugs they're dabbling in, if I had still worked for that company, I would have been out of a job because the office closed down, and if I was still in that relationship I would most likely be even more pathetic than I was when I was in it. Unfortunatley, when your in the situation your dealing with your head is usually so clouded with the "Why me?!" syndrome, that you can't see that it may just be a blessing in disguise. Now, I am not claiming this to be a fact, but just consider the possibility.
However, perhaps, things don't happen for a reason. Maybe it depends on the person dealing with that particular problem. Two people can deal with the same situation in two totally different ways, and maybe it just depends on how people play their hand.
I wonder about these two possibilities often. If things do happen for a reason, then what reason can you fathom when some horrific circumstance happens, like for instance, a child falling terminally ill? Now, what the fuck reason can you come up with for that happening? Excuse my french, but this topic rents a lot of space in my head.
Here is the conclusion I have come up with: some things are just destined to happen. As terrible as some situations are, and as unfair as they seem, sometimes shit just happens. But the beauty of it all, is that we do have a choice on how we can deal with what is thrown at us. I also believe that some things certainly are meant to happen, and that people come in and out of our lives for a reason so we can learn more about ourselves. And if we can learn from everything that comes our way, well, then I think we have solved lifes little riddle.

*My Angel*

She was a great woman. She may not have worked or thought for herself, but she raised a large family, and dealt with an extremely difficult husband. She was an angel. She is now my angel.
The night of May 5th 2008, she came home from the hospital; she had gotten very sick. I was too scared to go visit her; the sight of her so weak was too painful to bear. I now regret that I didnt give her that last kiss every day of my life. I went to sleep that night on edge, as I did most of the time she lived with us.
The next morning I rose and went directly into the shower. Outside the bathroom door I heard the sound of my aunt screaming. I then heard footsteps up the stairs and then banging at the door.
"Jessie, please help me! I don't know if its me or if she's really that bad." my aunt Donna said desparatley.
Without thinking I got out of the shower, ran to my room and put on clothes over my still wet body. We then quickly went down the stairs.
There she was lying half off, half on her bed. She never wanted to be in her bed and that day she had asked my brother and my father to move her there. I guess subconciously she knew what was coming.
At first I didn't know how serious the situation was. I had seen my grandma suffer for years at this point, and I thought this was just another one of her episodes. But I soon recognized the severity of it, when she looked at me and tried to speak. There was hardly any sound coming from her mouth but she managed to say, "Jessie, good luck with your car." I had gotten a car a week before, and I couldn't believe she remembered this while she was enduring so much pain. Until the very end she had her head; it was her body that had given up on her.
She then requested her brown coffee cup that she always drank from, and when my aunt handed it to her, she held it to her face and shook her head. "This isn't it" she said.
"Yea, it is ma. Do you want to eat? You gotta sit up if you want to eat ma."
"I can do it myself." she tried to say. She kept saying she'll do it herself until the minute she passed. She fought all the way to the end, and I will never forget that.
It started to dawn on me that my grandma was really sick this time. My aunt then looked at her and said "Its going to be ok mommy, we love you." And instead of sayin "EHH shut the hell up, or your full of shit!" like she probably would have normally done, she just looked at my aunt, and then her head shot up and she looked directly at the ceiling. She was dying.
I always heard people say that when someone dies you see the life coming out of their eyes. I never really believed it until that day. I literally saw the life leave her eyes as she was looking up, which I am sure she was looking at the light.
While this was all happening, my aunt and I were in a state of mahem. We were running around the house, screaming, crying, watching my grandmas breaths become further and further apart. We didn't want her to be revived once again, for what? so she can live another few months in that quality of life? She begged to come home from the hospital the night before, because deep down she knew she wanted to die in a comfortable place around the people she loved. I am glad she at least got to do that.
I wish when she passed I could have been closer to her, hugging her, holding her hand or something but all I could do was cry in the doorway and every now and then peak at her. I was so scared. I wish I could have been more courageous like my grandmother was. She was a courageous woman. Marrying a hot blooded Italian man like my grandfather is probably the most brave thing any one could do! And she not only married him but she dealt with his shit for the duration of his life! What an angel!
While my grandma was in the hospital, my neice was undergoing tests to see if the cancer she had been diagnosed with was cleared from her tiny body. My grandmother had told my mother that she was glad that Jolie was going to be ok. My mother told my grandmother that we had not yet recieved the results. She just looked at my mother confused, like she knew something that we didn't. The day my grandma died, May 6th 2008, a couple of hours after she was gone, we recieved the good news that Jolie was in fact cleared of the horrible disease. She was right, Jolie was ok!
Looking back, I see how peaceful this all was. It was a beautiful sunny, warm day on May 6th. I had a moment of clarity and realized that grandma was now our angel and she would take good care of us. When we got the good news about Jolie, it confirmed this to be true. I love you Grandma Helen Carlucci- you fought hard until the end, and you showed me how to be brave. Thankyou for all you have done for us and our family!!!

*ADDICTED*

Do you know how it feels when all of the air is squeezed from your lungs, and all of the blood is drained from your heart causing it to completley stop beating? Do you know how it feels when your stomach rejects the food you eat, and your physically starving yourself to death? How about, being in so much pain that it feels like your heart is literally ready to burst? Well, I know all too well how this feels. I've lived through it and am proud to say that I was able to overcome it- or at least I think so.
I met him when I was at rock bottom at a place of recovery. In many ways I believe he saved my life, and in many ways I believe he killed me. I made him my universe and everything and anything he did had a direct effect on my being. I was no longer living my life, I was living his.
It was definitley fate that brought us together, but fate was not able to tear us apart. After blood was shed and tears were cried, it seemed totally impossible to tear our grip from one another. To anyone else it was completley obvious that we needed to part ways but we were too blind to see that, our vision was too impaired, we were too high off pain; too ADDICTED. So we stayed in our downward spiral of bloody lips and black eyes. Because if it weren't for our physical pain, we could not engage in our physical love. After all the anger was unleashed towards eachother, we were then and only then, vulnerable enough to let eachother love. And we loved. We fought hard, but we loved even harder.
When he left me, I felt like I couldn't go on. I literally wanted to die because I didn't want to live without him. Now, I know my heart never stopped beating, but my heart was in so much pain that I wanted it to stop, so I could be freed of my misery.
Like a needle or a rock, I had him; and the withdrawals were identical. I couldn't eat or sleep, and the shaking was unbearable. All I wanted was him, all I thought about was him, and all I could do was cry out in agony like a fein waiting for his hit.
Now, five months later, I can look back and see how much better off I am. I'm told I have a "glow" to me, a word that is often used to describe people detoxing off of their drug of choice. However, even in saying that, I can't deny the nostalgic feelings that I still have for him. And I am not certain of how our encounter would play out if we were to ever see eachother again. But deep down, I have a feeling that if I were ever to see that face again, and hear that voice again, all of that self improvement that I have accomplished over the past months, might just go out the window because I know i am truly powerless over my ADDICTION. <3

*Inspired*

Ever since I can remember, I have loved to write. For me, writing is like a feeling. It is as familiar to me as is the sense of touch or the sense of smell. It's the sense of emotion. It comes from your brain, through your heart, out of your fingers onto the paper. Its a form of self expression that I felt extremely lucky to have mastered. However, lately I stopped writing. So I guess you can say, I have stopped feeling. And that is literally what I had done. I went through a series of unfortunate events this past year and the thought of writing was incomprehensible. To write is to feel and I definitley did not want to feel. It hurt too much to express myself, so I decided to stop feeling and in return, stop writing. I fell completley numb. I walked around surviving, but not actually living. The world turned into a blur and I stayed stuck living in the past, but only surviving in the present. The demons of my past haunted me and I felt stuck in a state of limbo not able to move forward.
I recently took a class that opened up a world of possiblities for me. Things started to become clear and make sense. I created a possibility for myself to let go of my past, forgive and move on. I learned that your feelings do not define who you are. Feeling angry or numb or sad or even happy, does not make you that way. You are you and I am me, and our feelings are just our feelings; nothing more. We have a choice in every situation that comes along. And in my past, I chose to let my feelings take total and utter control of me. Now that I recognize this, I have a choice to feel my feelings- and boy, do i feel my feelings!-maintain my self control, and continue on with my life.
Life is a thrill ride, and you never know where its going to lead you. But it is such a relief to know that I have a choice no matter what comes my way. And i choose to feel my feelings no matter how hard they may be to face, because after all, without feeling, there is no writing.