Where my soul used to be.

There's a hole in the place where my soul used to be...

I think I lost it some time long ago but I just didn't take the time to know-tice.
There's a hole in the place where my soul used to be.
Now if you look at me, you'll see right through me.
Straight through the other parts of me, they don't matter.
They're just ticking time bombs that will one by one shatter.
Cause this hole in the place where my soul used to be,
was the only thing holding together all the rest of me.

There's a hole in the place where my soul used to be,
I don' t give a shit about who I used to be.
Without my soul I can never be she,
So with this hole I'm a new version of me, but I don't wanna be!
A hole in the place,
A hole.
Where my soul used to be was the chamber of the essence of me,
But now that i'm incomplete I don't know who I am.
I just wanna find the soul that used to be in me...
I feel empty, slightly light headed, you see.
Cause I'm choking on the lack of flow of oxygen to me.
There's a hole in the place where my soul used to be.

Have you seen it?

1 Year Ago

If I would've known, a year ago from today, that it would almost destroy me... I don't think I would've invested as much time as I have in what we had.. Don't get me wrong it was a great experience for me, you see you were the only person around that made me free, and now a year later I'm feelin more chained and contained than ever before and I don't appreciate this. I wish I didn't wish to erase everything that happened a year ago. Because it wasn't bad, at first. Everything was cool, you, were cool. Then things took a turn for the optimistic worse (yea, optimistic). There's a reason I can't find my place because I'm hiding behind a face that's smiling at you. And you, and you.... But what I knew before I no longer do. I've stayed far away from this admittance that I'm apparently giving into now, but I still just don't see how it was all taken away from me. Losing a close friend is like a death in the family, a death in my family, a death in part of me, the end of something that I felt fulfilled my need; completion. All I ever needed was to NOT feel incomplete, and you gave that to me, in a weird but interesting kinda way. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that If I knew 1 year ago what I know now, I would've been more like me.

Why I want to be a writer.

1am conversations make for the most interesting discoveries about yourself. After a mock phone interview in which my friend who's always pushing me to be better (thank you), asked me Why I want to be a writer. I had the easiest answer ever, and he saw right through me. SO, in a second attempt to answer this question that will probably become the most important question on all of my future interviews, enjoy.

I want to be a writer because I can say whatever, whenever, and I won't be able to take it back. Too many people are afraid to let people know them, but when I become the best writer I can be, the world will have an endless invitation to the documentation of what is me. You say me at my simplest form is the real me. I say you've got it wrong. Me at my most difficult form is the real me. Difficult in the way that I approach a situation and form my articulation because if life was as simple as you make me out to be, then I'm not sure I belong here. I was put on this earth for a reason just like everyone else, and I'm convinced. Convinced that my purpose is to be a writer. I'm only following the path I chose at such a young age and I know that one day, I'll reach the end of the road. Holding a crinkly moist piece of paper and a chewed up pencil in my hand, I'll reach the end of the road and barely be able to stand. Because my journey would be at an end, and I'd hope deep down you'd get the message I send. The message telling you why I've always wanted to be a writer. I want to be a writer because it's all I've ever known. It's the only release I have when I can't quite speak my thoughts. So instead of thinking, I grab my pen and start scribbling.

It's a little messy, I know. But if it wasn't, then it wouldn't be the real me.

When there's no goodbye

It has occurred to me that in the last couple of years there's been a series of entrances and exits in my life without legit goodbyes and while I'm not a fan of goodbyes, I'd rather have them than wonder if someone's still around. You know? Maybe not. But I'm just saying, a good bye text couldn't hurt.

Disclaimer: This is just an angry rant... no reflection of how I feel about anyone in particular, because quite frankly, there's too many that forget to say goodbye. But don't worry, I won't hold it against you if you at least attempt to say hi, someday.

I mean if you're done, you're done right? I won't put up a fight if you're taking flight but tell me before you go. I think I deserve to know, No I demand to know because you have always been free to go but why now? And even better, is it that you don't know how to tell me you're a cow-ard? Don't take that offensively and please don't respond defensively, it's only a truth from my perspective after months of feeling rejected but can you blame me? I'm just going off the way things seem to be especially, since I can't see the you that used to want me. It's cool no blues on my end I'm chillin with the same ol' fools where little boys drool at the ladies that were always too-cool-for-school, and do you know where they've placed me? The out of place out of sync out of the ordinary chic that left the nest because she ventured off, at best to find something better than nothing but I was frontin cause that something, was worse than nothing, because it was something that wouldn't last. I always knew it wouldn't last. I checked the weather this morning and the forecast? Cloudy with a chance of meeting another ass. Yeah, you're an ass but in a good way. you see everybody needs an ass to rant about, no doubt cause we're just looking for things to talk about, things to fuss about, and you happened to be that thing for a while. Don't take it personal that you're an object of my rant that you see is on a slant cause my head's still hanging sideways as I try to decipher your rye ways. Silly silly me. The absence of your words slap my face and I'm standing in an empty space, blubbering. If you wanted to go all you had to do was say goodbye.