did she make you cry, make you break down
shatter your illusion of love
and is it over now,
do you know how to pick up the pieces and go home

Sunday morning and I woke up way too early for having gone to bed at 3:30am.  A loud door slam woke me, and I sat up, tired as I am I just got up and went into the kitchen and made coffee.  Maybe it was the combination of a a bad dream and the noise that pushed me into staying awake, because my head is telling me to go back to bed but the rest of me is saying no way.  Going through the morning paper and reading the same old horror, I gave up after a few pages.  My head is still fuzzy when I see the copy of Marie Claire I bought last night during a buying binge at Walgreen's.  Didn't think I was going to buy it because I'd already read the article, the poem, the drama over the article and the poem and countless tweets telling me I was either loved or reviled.  I blame the lack of sleep for reading the interview again, this time without the usual internet fan filter of worship and glory.  Its just an interview of a girl young enough to be my kid, boy does that mess with my head more on that later, talking about work and love and saying the word "dude" alot. This kid is all about not needing anybody, not having any answers, but knowing that she's not going to bow down to convention.  She's unique and doesn't give a fuck.  She gives 0 fuck answers to stupid questions and the interviewer fills in the blanks with his impressions and facts he probably got from some 21 year old editorial assistant who doesn't know what year it is.  I don't know, for someone who doesn't give a fuck it seems strange that she's a in fashion magazine saying she doesn't give a fuck.  But work is work and we all have parts of our jobs that we hate to do, I suspect this is one of them for her. Ok but why the poem, I mean someone so private sharing something so private of herself in this way.  Is it because she's trying to help her image, or is it something else.  The first option is always a strong possibility, some PR person's insistence that showing her creative artistic side will somehow endear her to people who don't already know her, or who don't like her.  But the something else option is interesting too, and that is that she put it out there for a reason.  Now in keeping with the 0 fucks attitude then this is total bullshit and she's just sharing a poem, but really we all give a fuck including her. She may only be 23 but she does give a fuck probably more than she even knows.  So what does the poem mean?  I've read several interpretations, everything from admitting to loving old men, to describing a tortured relationship, a nasty breakup, whatever.  I read it a few times and to me it can mean just about anything to anybody.  The imagery of the whiffle ball heart though is hard to miss, a heart with holes, spraying blood everywhere, yeah I got that part.  Heartbroken, maybe, longing, maybe, wanting, maybe.  Who knows.  Like I always say no one knows anything about anyone else's suffering.  On the one hand she's a reluctant multi-millionaire movie star, on the other a kid who doesn't have any answers and is too young to have them.  A kid who wears baseball caps and ripped shirts, but likes to cook dinner and keep house.  Okay then, what does it matter. I've got shit to deal with here.  I started out this post thinking about myself and the shit going down in this house but ended up writing about something that's being talked to death about online.  She's just a kid, who shared a poem for some reason intentional or not I don't know.  Maybe its an ode to her tortured relationship with the Golden One, the boy everyone wants, the boy all the girls are in love with, the boy at the cool table in the cafeteria.  Ok maybe not the cool table, but you get it.  He's the same as she is, gives off the impression of the unsure, reluctant movie star who also doesn't give a fuck but maybe he does, I don't know.  Birds of a feather and all that shit.  Why do I even care?  I mean I'm old enough to be their fucking mother for Christ's sake...I mean I was not giving a fuck way before they were even born.  I was accused of hating  him and defending her, I was called many things on twitter. But really how can you even fucking pretend to know what I'm saying unless you fucking read it and listen to it and not just the parts you wanna see or were told to hear.  Reality, my friends, is looking at something from all sides before making a judgement if you have to make one.  Insane menopausal stalkers calling a 23 year old girl a cheating whore is pretty direct, no room for interpretation there.  Me on the other hand I'm a coat of many colors, but I react to hate pretty intensely.  So yeah it pissed me off, that shit like that has been said about her for many years even prior to the "incident" and the perceived lack of response from the person who is a big part of the reason for that hatred made me nuts.  So I lashed out. I do that. Alot.  But people got crazy because I insulted him, hated on him, blamed him the poor victim for the behavior of people he can't control.  Maybe so.  But I reserve the right to call anyone a douchebag if I want to I don't care who the fuck you are, movie star, millionaire, Queen of England, whatever.  What's more I'm pretty sure he'd be ok with thay, giving 0 fucks and all.  I mean who am I to him?  Nobody.  So calm the fuck down and stop getting crazy it doesn't mean shit in the end.  Someone on twitter suggested I was an "empath" and that is why I react the way I do.  Well yeah, I soak up other people's feelings like a sponge, it drives me crazy 24/7.  Makes me the manic bitch people see alot of the time, and the caring, level headed person some of the time. Whatever.  I don't know what's going on with those two I really don't, neither does anyone else.  I can tell you what I feel though.  But its too early and I'm not really awake and I'll have to analyze my feelings later.  I need more coffee because things are out of focus and even music blaring in my ears is not doing the trick.  Maybe I should go back to bed.  It is Sunday.

Silver Springs

You could be my silver springs

Blue green colors flashin'

I would be your only dream

Your shining autumn, ocean crashing.......

There are so many things I want to say, words that have been going through my head for the past couple of days yet now they're not coming as easily.  I've written this blog entry a thousand times in my mind, and I was sure of all of those words but now its a mess of images, feelings, thoughts, and emotions that I can't put together in any right way.  But is there a right way?  I'm trying to understand just what the hell is wrong with me, why I dread getting up every morning, why it takes extra effort to do the simplest things, why I find myself sitting for hours on my couch in the morning channel surfing while lurking on twitter.  By the way I've come to the conclusion that twitter is evil.  More on that later.  I don't have any interest in anything other than checking twitter every five minutes in the vain hope that I will get some good news.  That something or someone somewhere will make everything better again.  Because that's what I want, I want it all to be better. I don't care about the circumstances or the methods or what has to happen, I just want it to be the way it was before May 13th.  I choose that day because for me that's when my personal life started going to hell, and it was with great sadness that I discovered rather quickly that my fantasy world had also gone down the same path.  Fantasy. Yeah.  That's what its all about.  Because when real life gets you down there's always a way to escape, to find a way to avoid harsh realities by immersing oneself in another world.  You all know that place, the happy place we go to to forget our lives are shit and pretend at least for a little while that things are good.  Living vicariously through words, music, pictures, and other people's relationships.  Yeah, now we are getting to it.  The truth of this blog entry, what its all about and what its all about is that fact that I'm a grown woman grieving the loss of something that was never mine.  Yep I said it.  We are all guilty of it.  How many of you have spent the last month feeling sad?  Just sad.  Admit it to yourself, once you do it gets much easier.  Believe me.  Fighting it doesn't do any good.  Embracing it makes it bearable.  I was sitting alone at home yesterday morning doing absolutely nothing, I do alot of that these days. I sit and watch tv or listen to music. Pandora decided to play Elton John's Your Song and I burst into tears.  Not just tears, but full on sobbing, so hard that I ended up laughing at myself because seriously what the fuck was I crying about?  I have cried for many other reasons this past month, but this sudden emo outburst that my neighbors all probably heard happened because this one song started playing, and I lost my fucking mind.  I'm crying over the loss of a relationship between two people I don't even know.  What's more, I am invested in this relationship probably moreso than my own and that is scary.  Not to say that my relationship deserves any investment, but that's another blog entry.  No I was weeping for two people who are young enough to be my kids (if I had them in high school, cough cough) and the apparent end of their eternal love, their epic romance, their fairytale.  No, my epic romance, my fairytale.  Because it somehow became mine too.  How in the fuck did that happen?  How did I go from having fun on the internet, reading fanfics, watching promos, being part of a "fandom" to a sobbing mess on my couch?  Simple, somewhere along the way I fell in love with their love.  The love that I gathered from pictures and interviews and stories and rumors of the past four years.  The love that I had in my own life but lost a long time ago.  The love that I don't have in my everyday life, and don't need because I shut that part of myself down in order to function in a world of complete shit.  But I do need it, that part of me isn't dead it was living and breathing through them.  These two people who I have no real clue about, who know nothing about me and probably don't really give a fuck anyway.  I knew all this all along, I knew I was projecting my own crap onto them, my own hopes and dreams and everything that ever meant anything to me put on their shoulders. I couldn't make my love work so now it was up to them and fuck if they didn't disappoint my selfish ass.  Its all well and good to write this and own up to the reality of what I'm feeling, but at the end of the day it doesn't make things easier.  I want them to work it out, I want them to be together I want them to triumph because I FUCKING DIDN'T.  I screwed up one hundred different ways, all similar to what is seemingly happening to them and I know what happens if they don't fix it.  Here I go this is the part where I enter the "zone".  The place where I am invested and I want this work and I don't give a fuck about the psychological and emotional reasons why this is important to me.  Who gives a shit. I'm a selfish bitch.  I don't care what they have to do they need to fix it because if they can't then well, I lose again.  Can't anything go right?  I mean my life is total shit most of the time and all I want is to see two people happy in this miserable shithole of a world so I can fucking die thinking that it means something.  That its real.  That love is real.  See I'm one of those chicks with a "one that got away" story. I tell it all the time, I've been telling to anybody that will listen for the past 20 years.  I'm like Forrest Fucking Gump sitting on that bench narrating his unrequited lost love.  Pathetic I know.  But also very, very sad.  Sad because I did love someone for a while.  Loved him so much that I would do anything, give up anything, be anyone for him.  Dramatic much?  Yeah that's me.  I love the drama.  But its true, he was everything and nothing.  He was the person I thought would always be there, that secretly I knew I would somehow end up with for the rest of my life and the person I hurt the most.  I hurt him, over and over again and he hurt me in viscous fucked up ways that made it a really thin line between love and hate.  But then again in order to hurt someone that bad you had to love the fuck out of them first.  And still do.  And always will.  That's where I'm coming from, I'm coming from a place of regret.  I can look back 20 fucking years and see the mistakes and look at my life now and know I will never see this person again, never touch him, never feel him, and never ever share myself with him.  That's a delicate way of saying I'll never get to fuck him again.  Fuck, make love, whatever I'm not big on the romance lingo.  Yeah there's a big different between just fucking and FUCKING.  I'm not talking "making love" I'm talking headboard slamming, sweaty, loud, fuck me till I'm sore then do me some more because I love you so much I don't ever want to live without this fucking.  Romantic enough for you?  Yeah, I had my Silver Springs.  I had it and I lost it and now I listen to that fucking song and I think about these two people I don't know and pray to God they never know what this is like.  That if the reality of their relationship is anywhere near what I perceive it to be that they never lose it because babies, 20 years down the line you find yourself sitting on your couch on a Thursday morning crying your eyes out because there's a hole in your heart so fucking big nothing and I mean nothing fills it. Believe me that sucks.  Sucks big time.  Sucks to the point where I want to just shake the fuck out of the two of them and say HEY ASSHOLES LOOK AT ME, look at what happens when you lose a good thing.  I think that's what the two of them have, a good thing.  I don't know the details of their lives, not really. I don' really know what happened. I can guess, I can read cards and speculate but at the end of the day I don't know.  What I do know is that I want them to find each other and fix it and make it work because if its real, you can't lose it.  You just can't.  Losing it means losing a part of yourself that you will never ever get back.  It hurts.  Hurts like a motherfucker and I feel stupid and dumb and ridiculous and silly, and so sad I can't stand it.  So yeah, you two fix your shit.  I'm a selfish, stupid, ridiculous bitch and I don't care what the circumstances are if you love each other, if you can't see yourselves without each other if the thought of not being in each other's lives makes you feel like you want to die then FUCKING DO SOMETHING.  Let it go, forgive each other, admit your wrongs, go to therapy, throw things at each other, fuck until you can't fuck anymore but just make it work.  Regret is a horrible feeling.  Okay so the haters can descend and say stupid shit and call me names and what not but that will just prove what I've always said that those are some damaged people, souless beings who have no clue what I'm talking about only that they need to feed their own insane needs.  Are my needs any less insane?  I don't know, I'm just rooting for love here. I just want them to be happy.  Sue me if I feel like they will be happier together.  That's what I'm going with, it may not be their truth, who knows.  But I'm willing to bet it is.  Nothing and I mean nothing has ever affected me like this, shitty life notwithstanding.  I know love when I see and I don't want to be rational.  I want it fixed.  Until then, I'll be sad.  You can all go ahead and be sad with me.  Its okay you're allowed.  Its nothing to be ashamed of, feel it, embrace it, cry your eyes out and it will help.  You will feel better for a while and it does give you hope afterwards. Cuz that's what its all about now. Hope.