I Miss You

It is sad and desperate to say that I fall asleep looking at your picture every night.  I cry. I do. I think of all we shared and all we will never have...even if there was a possibility of loving you, for a short time..it will never happen.

It was probably never meant to be for you and I. We were merely supposed to exist, suspended in time, amongst the wires, internet connections and phone lines. Only there, in that unliveable space,  were we fated to exist. That is it. That was it. Only there. Yet, it was beautiful.  I would do it all again. I never loved so deeply, than I did with you. In all my years, all 40 years on this Earth, I've never loved so fully with my soul, than I did with you. My soulmate. My Hapless Romantic.

I hope I didn't contribute to your death. I pray you thought of me inly with loving kindness, as I do you.

Thanksgiving Memories

I was thinking of you Simon, when this came through the radio:


When the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Yes...if course it can be worse, but it hurts like hell.

Today is Thanksgiving and I was remembering years ago, when people on your profile were telling you "Happy Thanksgiving" of all sorts. I remember you telling me "I don't know why everyone keeps leaving me 'a Happy Thanksgiving' I don't even celebrate it." I thought it was funny because it dawned on me that you were 'different' than me. That in fact you were British and didn't partake in Yankee Holidays.

I miss your voice and could hear you answer the phone. I would call you and hear the quick ring-ring of your phone, then hear the click and a deep "Hiya". I would say, "Hi Simon, how are you!" And your reply, "hiya, how are you." I recall you saying that my voice always sounded like sunshine. That I sounded like pure happiness. Indeed I did, it was because my heart beat out of my chest every chance I got, to call you. My heart would pound every time
I would press 0-11-44-03216 and your number.

Just to hear your voice. One more time. Just one more time. I wasn't brave enough to tell you all I had to say. I wish I could've told you everything one last time. Everything you wanted to hear because it was all true. It always was.

If I could I'd tell you that: I love you. I always have. I want to be with only you. And that I want to kiss your sweet lips and be held in your warm and loving arms...and that I am wasting no time, to be yours because I've booked the next flight.

Unlucky I am because I will never have the chance. No matter how hard I try because you are dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. I hate God for that. I hate that you were taken away at such a young age. We never got the chance to properly end it all. To say goodbye. Too see one another in the flesh; in the same time and space...not just merely at the same time.

We had such a mutual emotional connection. It ran way deep and through the burning of my soul. I have and never had that with anyone before.  Can I ever get that chance? Will I? It's hard knowing what it feels like because I was never able to have it.

I love you sweet Simon.

Week 3

It's a beginning of a new week. This will barely be the third week. I cannot believe how agonizingly slow, all this is progressing, since I found out about your death. It hurts a little less each day, in that each day has normality to it, but I still find myself with overwhelming sadness and hurt when I think of you.

 How can anyone expect to move on from something like this? I doubt many other people can. I know that it will take me forever, to get over you. Or at least to get over the loss and void I feel in your absence.

I have decided that I will add my writings to another page of this blog. So that the whole world could see my feelings for you, from the time, when we were together. Other writings will just be, fillers, to laugh at and enjoy. I anticipate that these writings might bring back feelings, both good-bad-and-in-between. I love you my Dear Simon. I'll love you for eternity...

The Girl and The Sea (describes me)

Tonight the
Tonight the hills are watching her
As she runs towards the sea
Yeah, she runs so she be free

And of all the friends and enemies
She's made along the way
They are no where in her thoughts
As she dives beneath the waves

And he's the one
That you've seen sometimes on TV
And his shirt is on the ground
While he's tackled by police

And the parcel that he throws
Across the bridge into the creek
It'll flow towards the sea
It will meet with her tomorrow

No place, some time
We'll clear our eyes
And when you're down
I'll come around

And all the places
She's been along the way
Flames are licking at their walls
Night glows with their remains

From far away, the animals come
Gather round to see
But she knows not how they feel
And she knows not what it means

When she was young
We'd ask her what she'd like to be
And she'd close her eyes and dream
Now we're no where in her thoughts
As she dives beneath the waves

A place I've found
Could be all ours
But I've seen where
You would rather be

No Matter

No matter how hard I think, talk, stare at his pictures and read his writings: he'll never come back. Life is so damn unfair.

There is nothing more that I can do, except hope, pray and believe that I was as ever present in his thoughts and dreams. How could I not have been? Our love was extraordinary. We loved one another in an unconventional way. Not many others on the planet have been able to love with a passion as we did. The things we did to share and show our love, were beyond normal. Everything in every way, from our ordinary lives to the life we shared with one another, was completely abnormal and normal for us.

I keep asking the same questions but receive no answers. I am mad. I am mad that he was taken so young. I thought that there was more time. I doubt that he may have known he was as ill as he was. I am sure he suspected something, but was unable to look into or share what he had known. What he was diagnosed with, leaves a prognosis of 2-3 years. I wonder if he didn't want to tell me.

I love him. My heart is breaking so badly!!! I am so pissed!!! I loved him more than anyone. I have never loved a man so deeply. I didn't know that this kind of love existed. I had no idea that he would be a part of my life for so long. Sadly, I will take the love of this man to my dying day. When I am old and grey, I will remember my Simon in his youth. I wonder if he will still love me then, as well (if he is still around me at that time).

How ironic.
He will forever be young, never old, never grey, never in his rickety old chair. 
He will never play another note on his guitar. 
He will never listen to the music he gave me. 
He will never write another word. 
His voice will never resonate and tell me I was his 'babe'. 
I can hear and see him, just as I remember. 
He will never age, never fade, but will never ever be, again.

I fell asleep crying last night. I woke up with tears down my face and a runny nose. I wonder if anyone knows why I am the way I am? or if they are just assuming I am just being me.

I love you Dear Simon. I'll love you forever.  No matter how much I say it or profess, I can't make you come back. I'm sorry.

When You're Dreaming With a Broken Heart...

Waking up is the hardest part. (That's what John Mayer says).

I see you and understand that in death, only in death,
We were meant to be.
Never in life
Only when we fall asleep
Were we supposed to be.

You are gone
and will never be
with me,
You are my prince,
My king
My lover to always be.

No matter how hard I think
No matter how much you were my hero
Just for one day
We were not to be.

                                               "Falmouth Streets at Night"

See You Soon...

I couldn't wait to be alone, even for a few minutes,  to think of you.

Its hard to keep you inside.
Its hard not to say.
Its hard to die inside myself...
In front of the entire world.

It's not fair that we never held one another's love,
Without slipping away.
Without the distance.
Without the longing to meet
Knowing we never will.

Only in death my love,
Will we meet.
Then, only then,
I'll know the right way to go.
There they will find us.

I look around
I look for you.
Any reminder of you
I'm looking for.

My heart breaks.
I don't want you to never be.
My love is in pieces
And leaving your package behind.

Here I am and I take my time.
I'll wait in line always, always.

The Certificate...

...came today...

Cause of Death: Arrhythmia caused by Fibrosis of the Left Heart.

I suppose you did die of a broken heart. I'm sorry Si. With all my being, love and soul, I hope you did not suffer.

Right now it is raining so very hard. The rain is pounding on the roof, heavily. The rain symbolizes the sadness I have for you. I'm sorry my Sweet Simon. You had a such a long life ahead of you. You died so young. My heart mourns for you...

“In my story you're the villain. But in my heart, you're still the reigning King.”
― Coco J. Ginger

My Contradictory Soul

(All of this was for Simon and a broken heart)

I think it was all a figment of my creative and lonesome imagination.

How do I explain my actions and decisions to others?

Somehow, by not elaborating, saying very little, using my ‘over-creativity’ a symptom, and by not divulging information (simply—skirting around the truth—yet somehow not ‘really’ lying), I was able to let it all blow over.

I hoped that I would not be found out—but inside—I knew the truth.

I reasoned that it was better no one knew the ‘real’ reason, so that I could save them from the pain.

I do not know which is worse: knowing and suffering from an irreparable broken heart, or not knowing and living with someone else’s lie.

I suppose the latter is by far the worst, but when one realizes what they have done ‘after-the-fact,’ saving face seems to be a better option.

What do they really think and say?

Do they believe what I have told them…

And have they accepted my excuses as clear fact?

I wonder.

Sometimes I feel like they want to question further.

Sometimes they look at me differently.

Sometimes I wish I could confess.

But my lies begot another lie, and another, and another…

So, I am left with sticking to my story.

I created a universe which belonged to only a specific few.

They were molded to fit my ideas, likes, turn-ons, maybes and could-bes.

I believed what I created.

It became real.

So real, that I felt as if I existed in both worlds.

Time was not a factor.

Distance was meshed with technology.

I wanted it to be.

In all the days, in all the hours, in all my thoughts, in all my words… it was.

It wasn’t easy to hide from them.

It was difficult.

Little bits of me began to fall-away.

The bits exposed a familiar yet incognizant and distant being in my place.

If only, I had known better.

If only, I didn’t let it.

They suspected.

They knew something.

They ALL did.

They conspired.

They inspected.

They compared.

They were close.

So close.

If only I had slipped up.

I almost had.

It was overflowing, and I couldn’t keep it all in.

Only one trusted person knew my secret.

What was I to do? I wanted to run-away. I wanted to scream to the heavens. I wanted to flee from it all and finally live in my created universe. I believed whole-heartedly that it would happen. I believed that my wild ideas and schemes would play out into a terrific and perfect reality. I wanted it so bad. But I had to wait. I had to wait for so many things. I had to plan. I had to figure out the next move. I had to detach myself—completely—from what I had always known.

Luckily, some part, some tiny piece, some tiny morsel, of my ‘real’ real self, never let go.

If it hadn’t been for the morsel…I would’ve found my rash and brainwashed self…on the other side. Then, it would’ve been too late.

I am glad. I am glad that the morsel saved me.

Today, like many other days, in solitude—I go there. I allow myself to wander the aisles of my creation. I allow myself to do so because if I deny it, then I would be lying to myself that the pain I caused ‘was really not that bad’, and would go on to say, ‘it is all over now…and I have moved on…’ when in reality I know I haven’t, totally.

It all seems a tad distant now…

But I have to live with my truth.

It hurts.

I wish I hadn’t done it.

I force myself to live in this place, to do the domestic thing, and to live a somewhat normal life… but in the dark, when all is quiet and another’s rhythmic breathing fills the silence… I feel the guilt setting in. This is something I must live with, for their sake. Call me selfish, call me what you want… this was the best I could do.

I know I am a very contradictory soul.

If I knew how to fix it, I would.

Goodnight.

6/2008

Echo

(I wrote this after I came to the realization, nothing was coming to fruition.)

He either doesn’t know or doesn’t care to know. 

That she thought of him.

He created her.

He molded her.

He left her.

No explanation. 

No apologies. 

No see you tomorrows.

She wandered through his thoughts. The thoughts left behind for all to see. 

She knows the intentional stand was to be a reminder of what she could not have. 

Welcoming arms. 

A smile. 

The twinkle in his eye. 

Gone. Gone. All gone.

She stares at blankness. 

A board. Something wiped clean. 

She stares. 

She looks. 

Looking for a reciprocated twinkle. 

What a fool. She is a fool. A fool. For him.  

In haste—a few necessities were chosen. 

All that was left was no longer—desired. 

Trash. 

Garbage. 

A waste.

“Something for the pickin’s.”

 Something to pain her heart.

 Revenge. Yes, revenge. A revenge on the once loved girl.

Echo. Step. Echo. Step.

Cold hard floors.

Sterile blank walls.

 And her. 

Looking. 

For something. Anything. He may have left for her. 

To hold onto. 

Something. 

Anything. 

Desperately she looks. 

Nothing. 

Alone upon cold hard floors and blank sterile walls.

She calls out to him. Calls upon the name that once burned her soul. 

She hears something. Faint. Far-away. 

She calls again. 

Maybe it is him. My love. The elusive one.

Echo. Beating heart. Echo. 

Suddenly she realizes she was calling herself. 

He was gone. Forever.

Alone. She was.

Echo. Step. Echo. Step.

All reminders of him—are just that—reminders. Ghostly conversations are replayed over and over. Remnants of him. No assurance. His revenge. A sterile reminder of what turned cold.

Just once. 

Once more.

Anything. 

She’d give. To hear him. To see him. 

An answer. 

No empty halls. No empty thoughts. Just him. 

Just once. If only…

….he heard her. Her voice. Her call. Her cry for one more time. But he couldn’t answer. This must be his revenge. Revenge for a girl who had stolen his heart. The girl that never filled it. HE would never, ever, ever forget her. She was apart of him. She had his heart. His heavy black heart. 

 1/27/2008

I am Here for You

I am here for you ok, no more arguing, things between us will get better, even better when we are together, why would they not? I promise you I will look after you, care for you, spoil you and treat you the way you want to be treated, and to love you for the woman you are, a beautiful person who has my heart and my soul. Love you. xXx

Toward the end of the height, of our relationship, we would argue often. Most of the arguments came about because of Simon's insecurities. He used to think that I was seeing other people and used to embellish events and make them seem like something they were not. No matter how distraught he became, I would maintain my patience and try my hardest to convince him that he was just thinking nonsensically.

Even though we had ups and downs, I miss him. I miss his words and wanted so  badly to be with him, in his arms, while I listened to his heart beat. I wanted to lay on his lap while we watched television, within a dimmed living room. I wanted to lay skin-to-skin with him. I wanted him all to myself.

He knew how to use words to bring me back in--to a place I loved being--with him. He promised me, he would take care of me, for all eternity and said that he would bring me pancakes and Diet Pepsi, as long as I wanted (they are my favorite foods); even if he had to search for them high and low. I suppose pancakes are not easy to find in Britain (he at least made it seem that way).

I wanted to be spoiled by him; he vowed that he would do things for me and to me, that 'H' refused to do. He took excitement in all the things he liked to do because he finally found the package--me. He wondered where I had been all his life because it seemed that we would be compatible--sexually, mentally, and creatively.

I felt that I was losing the opportunity to explore my sexuality and believed Simon and I were definitely soul-mates. I have never doubted that for a second. I wanted him to take me, to overwhelm my senses, and to have my body lose itself in his arms and warm body. He made me feel beautiful. He made me feel like I would always be perfection, in my imperfect body and mind, to him.

Sigh...he was beautiful. I miss my Simon. I think about him constantly and wonder if he is still around me. I look for signs constantly and hope that I know it is him.

Last night I watched P.S. I Love You, with Hillary Swank and Gerard Butler. It is uncanny how similar the characters within the movie, mirrored our life. Simon was a handsome musician with an amazing British accent and Gerard was a handsome musician with an amazing Irish accent. I cried throughout the movie, at every turn. I thought of Simon the whole time. Will he lead the way in helping me recover from his death? Will he help me discover who I truly am?

Anyhow, waiting for the certificate to arrive any day...morbid yes. I'm kind of scared to know.

The Other Side

Meet me on the other side
Meet me on the other side
I'll see you on the other side
See you on the other side

Honey now if I'm honest
I still don't know what love is
Another mirage folds into the haze of time recalled
And now the floodgates cannot hold
All my sorrow all my rage
A tear that falls on every page

Meet me on the other side
Meet me on the other side

Maybe I ought a mention
Was never my intention
To harm you or your kin
Are you so scared to look within
The ghosts are crawling on our skin
We may race and we may run
We'll not undo what has been done
Or change the moment when it's gone

Meet me on the other side
Meet me on the other side
I'll see you on the other side
I'll see you on the other side

I know it would be outrageous
To come on all courageous
And offer you my hand
To pull you up on to dry land
When all I got is sinking sand
The trick ain't worth the time it buys
I'm sick of hearing my own lies
And love's a raven when it flies

Meet me on the other side
Meet me on the other side
I'll see you on the other side

Honey now if I'm honest
I still don't know what love is

Strange

It's strange, as I write this, you are on my laptop, screensver, I look up and see you in the picture frame , on my mantle piece, the phone just rang and that was you, yet you are so far away, it's strange.

I love you...xXx

Love You My Darling, I Truly Do

I need to post this...I miss his words...these bring me back to a time that seemed so long ago...

No, you do not sound crazy, just tired and perhaps some of the med's you are taking may make you not think straight, but crazy, never!

You need stability, constant feelings from me, instead of me being up and down, sorry you have had things a lot more difficult than I.

I am here, there for you........I won't let you go, give you up, do you hear me.

Love you my darling, I truly do.........xXx

At this point and time during our relationship, everything had gotten so rough, with many ups and many more downs, that I didn't know what to do anymore. Simon made me choose between leaving and staying. I was so upset because I had already chosen to be with him and had made many adjustments in my life, to more than accommodate him.

Everyone at this time in the relationship thought I was out of my mind. I didn't feel like anything was wrong; rather, I felt like everything was just fine. I felt like I was making an accurate and well-thought out decision. I had a friend crying because she knew that I was no longer coming back. 'H' was mad because he did not understand what was going on---it didn't help that he ignored the elephant in the room and let everything, just be. 'H' didn't question anything when I had said I was leaving and was not coming back. He agreed and said, "Whatever you want." and left it at that? Who does that? 'H'  did.

I felt like I had permission to do what I felt was the right thing, as I was following my heart. I figured that 'living once' and getting 'once chance to live' was a huge determinant in my decision to be with Simon. How often does one get to live with their soul-mate? to love fully? to be with someone who understands your every being, breath, and movement, that you two can't figure where one person ends and the other begins? How often do we feel so fully and completely in love, that the skies are the bluest blue and the dark starry night shines with the brightest twinkling, anyone has ever seen?
How often do people in love really get the chance to feel their head get dizzy and stomach flip, at the sight of the one they love? How many people get the chance to 'get  this right?'

I felt like I was living a dream, with a real prince charming, with my British Happless Romantic, in his sweet masculine voice. I felt like a princess, who had been rescued from a life she had known, with more in her life that she had experienced at such a young age, then what most people get in a life time. I felt that this was my due; that Simon was the one I found, out of a random situation, in the vastness of humanity in the space we call home, Earth.

I wanted to escape the trauma, violence, negativity and reminders of the town in which I lived. I wanted to say goodby forever, to start new. To start a life and every day, in the arms of the person I loved. In the arms of a man, who would tell me I was beautiful, lovely and the most wonderful creature he had ever seen. I wanted to wake in the arms of a true renaissance man; a man that could tough out the elements and write the sweetest and most heartfelt words. I want to be with someone who would protect me, from every element, in this life--until the day I died. I wanted to be put on a pedestal.

All of this, was and still is Simon. I wanted to wake in his arms, while my hand would gently rub his chest, leaving a trail from the deepest vein in his neck down toward the hardness in his groin. I wanted to close my eyes, breathe in and hear his heart beating while we synchronized each inhalation and exhale. I wanted to feel his warmth on the side of my face that rested on his chest. I wanted our fingers to intertwine and kiss as we talked, with the morning light streaming through the window. I wanted to cover myself in his essence, his masculinity, his being and soul.

I knew that he was the one for me. I was the one for him.

But, it didn't matter how much we wanted because it didn't happen. Simon didn't let it. I was broken,confused, and begged him to give me an answer, a reason, and explanation. Something. But he never said. He never said why. Until this day, I still do not know.

I was so taken back by the decisions and actions that were happening around me, that I lost control. I lost control of my sanity; of my mind; of my own awareness within reality. I literally lost my mind.

It left me. I wanted to leave. I tried to leave. I made the decision to leave and never wanted to come back. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and welcomed the dark space of the room I was in. The only light coming in, was a sliver, that peeked around the frame of the door. I closed my eyes as tears ran down my face and I felt myself falling and pulling further away. Further away  than I had ever been. Far enough away, to feel like I was falling. Free-falling...

I didn't want to come back. I wanted the darkness to take me. To take me away...so that I could never feel again...I no longer...wanted to feel...