If that horse hadn't come along...

Sarah Jessica Parker veins

I was awoken with disorder and that is the worst way to begin this day.

Insensitivity. 

Insufficient slumber and bombshell news dropped like a feather.

Two weeks gone, one week, two more weeks.

I woke up nauseous again and none of this is the plan.

I like plans.

Starting the morning with disorder means I’ll be screaming later.

I’m sorry.

My heart gets trapped in my throat and that’s all that comes out.

Anger.

I feel it.

Today was supposed to be happy.  

I feel myself placing blame.

Insensitive.

Gender stereotypes are shitty.

I am angry today because of the perception of womanhood. Because I am a woman, I cannot understand a “male topic” like the military.

Because I am a woman, I cannot comprehend war or brotherhood. I cannot understand male friendship. I am too dramatic, and I do not think logically.

In truth, that ignites a sense of fury that demeans every part of who I am. If you do not respect me, I will not respect you. 

There is an easy way to understand someone, and that is by listening. It is not to tell someone that they are ignorant or do not understand a topic.

Women are gifted and cursed because they can think logically and emotionally. 

Women military analysts found Osama Bin Laden. Women wrote the first briefs and women died in the hunt for Bin Laden.

To postulate that a woman lacks in comprehension skills is to spit in my face and the eyes of every woman in the world.

There are a handful of things that I have zero tolerance for, and this is one of them.

My hair smells like someone I haven’t seen in a few years and it reminds me of the brown chair in my old office. I used to sit there to calm down because it lingered there in my head. Nothing truly lingers long, it’s all in your head.

The things we remember form the frames of our memories.

I will always remember who disrespected me as a woman.

When will this stop

Just read the USA Today article reviewing Before Midnight while driving and immediately started crying.

There is no Arizona, y’all.

I require a degree of emotional spine that most men do not have.

I need to be an extension of your soul. How I feel should affect how you feel. I need to be another limb of your body that you nourish, protect and heal when the case may warrant it. 

I am not easy to handle. I can be impossible to understand. Completely inconsistent, uncertain.

Turning on a dime, I can then feel sure. Stand tall on both feet and demand that you stand with me in this confidence, even if you know it isn’t permanent. 

I am a hurricane to anyone’s drizzle and therefore I will never be boring. A blessing and a curse, I make stability seem boring.

My ankles feel tight and I wonder if they’re reacting to the new medicine or the stress that just spiked in my blood.

Sometimes I hate Tumblr because unless it’s on a fucking picture, no one reads your words anyway.

I do not understand why you have to be so goddamned difficult. It makes sense to me to always care about someone but not be able to be with them.

I am not an extension of your soul. I am its kryptonite. 

I am not another limb that you take care. I am another limb that throws you off balance. A limb that needs to be amputated before the infection corrodes your entirety.

You are perhaps someone who can heal me, but only from the damage we cause each other. 

It is possible to love someone and not be able to be with them. If you love someone that much, you must let them go. I understand. I don’t think you do. 

The ankle tingling is freaking me out. 

Perhaps it is the weights that is this discord between us dragging me down. 

I can start a lot of words with the letter D.

I can’t really finish my thoughts on this. 

It’s best for you if you abandoned me entirely. 

Let me shatter.

But who are we to cut our own limbs off, even if they are killing us?

Screw slow dancing in a burning room. We fucking salsa off skyscrapers. 

That’s not sustainable. 

I want to be your friend. I want you to be my friend.

But I don’t know if people that love each other as much as we have will ever just be friends.

There are the nights where I miss things.

I don’t know how to deal with the time. 

And I am now hearing salsa music in my head as my ankles tingle. 

Watch Friends

I have learned so many life lessons from that show. Watch it. Watch it all.

Bright light is like cake. It’s a lie.

I see pictures and can see they used flash and I hate flash because it’s a crutch.

But I can’t hold still enough for aperture priority and I get a good shot for every ten worthless tries.

Light from a flash is artificial. You’re not capturing the environment, you’re changing it.

Much like people. When you add something, then something is taken away.

If what you add is fake like flash, then what you see isn’t real.

You’re forcing it to be brighter, like you want it to be.

It isn’t that way.

The moments are treasures.

Keep them always.

I don’t use flash.

I don’t have to fall back anymore.