the winds of change

i have forgotten why i even started writing in the first place. and i tend to let people ruin things for me. like songs and movies and whatnot. but thats silly. i mean. i can choose what i like and what i dont. and i shouldnt feel guilty if i liked it first or second or third or last. i shouldnt. nobodys got a claim on any of it. on anything. on anyone. i found some old things today. old things id forgotten about. hmm. i didnt even mean to do that. cirlce around to forgotten things. just because you forget doesnt mean it goes away. its still there. in that box or under that shoe or in that closet or in the cabinet or under your bed. you get the picture. it doesnt go away unless you throw it away. and i dont throw much away. i feel like ill need it one day. ill use it again one day. ill wear it to a crazy costume party... i have never been to crazy costume party. dont know why id start now. but i just needed an excuse to keep that amazingly hideous sequin dress. i loved it once. maybe i still do. idk. but ill never wear it again. its just taking up space. valuable space in my heart, i mean closet. or maybe i dont. idk. and you know what im gonna have to get rid of it soon. ill do it tomorrow. ehh i said that yesterday. tomorrow never comes, so i guess im not getting rid of it anytime soon. i have i dont know how many mismatched socks. socks who lost their partner a loooong time ago. and things. just things. of significance and of no significance. whew thats hard to type. hard to let go of. get rid of. and so i opened up all the doors again. yep. everyone. and looked at my options. and im changing my mind again. i really should never make plans. or tell people anything ab what i "plan" to do. cause i always switch things around. i like where im headed though. i should just follow my instincts from now on. that eerie feeling i get. thats probably a bad feeling and a sign to open up all the doors again. and so i do. eventually. and so i have. and i lose my energy. towards the end of things. the end of a dance. but at the end of a paper or something i write it only gets longer and longer and more fire. the endings are always my favorite. and i can tell my story because i havent been present for the most of it. ive been else where. trying to live someone elses story. trying to make my story through someone elses. inspiration from a book or a movie. its always fictional characters. never real life story copying. bc thats just dumb. we all know a story in a movie or book is way better than life out loud. because its written. and everything looks better on paper. and so. my story started last summer. its like coming in on a character without any detail to the past or how they became who they are. bc you dont know. because they dont know. my story only started last summer. when i decided to present in my own life. it was a long walk i took that day. all by myself. all my byself. in the sand. by the beach. when i decided its my story. its my life. no wonder the others never fit. it was written for them. not for me. and so. maybe thats why i write. to write out my story. hmm. didnt mean to do that either. the beginning and the end in full circle. i write bc it happened. i delete it when its gone. i stopped deleting things last week though. bc it happened. it happens. its too late for the people i already deleted. the things i already deleted. the numbers i got again. but im starting from here. from there. from last summer. these blogs. are only pieces of me. ive got another blog. ive got about three journals. ive got conversations. ive got some more. but this. this here. is part of my story. its in writing. maybe thats why i write. my life seems much more poetic and out of a book or a movie this way. but its not. its just a normal life. with let downs and build ups. and jane said this yesterday. she said in this life all we have is eachother. eachother and God. and we can destroy eachother. destroy. ruin. hurt. break. weigh. kill. destroy. and thats what ive done. thats what ive done. been doing. or we can build eachother up. all we have is eachother, everything else is gonna burn. all we have is eachother. i had forgotten why i even started writing in the first place. i remember now.

recital places

i gotta live where the stars are