I got her back..

When I met my best friend I knew right away she was different than anyone I had ever met before. I felt instantly connected to her. She came with a mutual friend to my house for a Halloween party. We hung out all night. She told me she had an extra ticket to a Marilyn Manson concert, and asked me if I wanted to go. I did! We went and had an awesome time. I don't really listen to Manson much anymore, but there are songs that take me right back to that night. I close my eyes and see her on her friends shoulders, singing along to every word. I still feel that emotion. I found someone who understood. Who really got it. She felt the same way I did. She was damaged in the same way. Many years later and we have been to hell and back. We lived together for a long time.. We had spurts of time where we didn't talk to each other. Sometimes by our own choice and sometimes forced by another person. I lost her for three years. Her boyfriend would not let us talk to each other. He was jealous of our closeness. We don't even have to say a word, just look at each other and we can have a whole conversation. She is one of the strongest people I have ever known, and she got lost in an abusive relationship. Three years ago this month she called me at 4 in the morning. I had not spoken to her in a very long time. She was crying, said he was in the shower and she grabbed a trash bag of her belongings, left everything else and ran. She asked me if I would come get her. I didn't even take a breathe. I woke my boyfriend and told him I was going to LA to get her. I cried the whole way there. I was scared in the amount of time it took me to get to LA from Vegas she would have changed her mind, or he would find her. When I got there, I grabbed her things and quickly got her in my car. I didn't want one more second of her being controlled by some abusive asshole to have a chance. We talked, cried, sat in silence with tears streaming down both of our faces, and sang some of our favorite songs all the way back to my house. I am lucky. She is lucky. She's lucky she made it out of a really bad situation, and I'm lucky to have my friend back. She is now happily married to an amazing man who treats her like the strong, beautiful women she is, and that is all I have ever wanted for her. To love, and really be loved in return. .

Seperate Rooms

It all started when I was pregnant. I had restless leg syndrome, and didn't sleep well so I started sleeping in our spare bedroom. When Declan was born it was just easier some nights if he, and I stayed in a room alone. Then when I started working graveyard I wouldn't get home until 5 in the morning and didn't want to bother my boyfriend so I just slept in the spare bedroom. Honestly, the only time we shared a bed was on my days off. Two days a week. Sex life? You do the math. Now the restless leg stuff doesn't bother me. Declan sleeps own his own a lot. I no longer work graveyard, but for the better part of four years I've been sleeping alone. Since I work a pretty normal schedule now, I sleep in the bed with my boyfriend a little more often than two days a week, but I wouldn't call it normal by any stretch of the imagination. I KNOW this is not good for my relationship. It doesn't have anything to do with him. I have just gotten so comfortable sleeping alone. The other day he told me he felt like we were just roommates, and it broke my heart. I don't want to hurt him. I'm gonna be honest.. I'm not a very sexual person. I never have been. Maybe I'm more comfortable sleeping alone because I don't have to worry about that part of sharing a bed with a man. I know this bothers him, but I don't know how to fix it. This is our number one argument. This is probably our only real argument. I'm scared for our relationship. Should I go talk to someone? My friends just think I'm weird. One has accused me of 'not really liking' my boyfriend, which isn't the case at all. There is definitely something wrong. I don't know if I can fix it by myself. As I type this.. I am in one room, and he is sleeping in the other. He is frustrated with me. He thinks I don't love him anymore.

I do. I love him, and I want to fix this.. I just don't know how. I feel very lost, and broken. I want to make him happy. I want us to be happy together, but that isn't going to happen if we're not even in the same room.

I don't want him to give up on me.. On us.

Home - You can go back.. just not to stay.

You ever love a place so much, but just don't fit in? That's how I feel about my hometown. Growing up all I ever thought about was getting out of here, and when I left I finally saw all the good things I overlooked. My viewpoints on a lot things are basically unheard of around here. I've always been that weird girl. I feel like, and I know I'm not the only one, but I'm meant for so much more than this, but I have a love for this place that makes my heart swell. The value people place on family here. The friday night games that everyone goes to even if you hate sports because you KNOW that's where everyone is going to be. The food.. Oh, the food! The old mills. The quiet sundays driving around while everyone else is at church even if they ARE hungover! The way everything changes yet it stays the same. Trees! Green plant life! The fact that its close enough to Atlanta to do whatever you want, but far enough away to not be bothered by it. My childhood had bad things just like most people, but I can honestly say good, bad, and downright ugly things have happened here and I wouldn't trade it for the world. When I was growing up there was only one high school for the whole county.. They have two now! The town was overjoyed when they got a super walmart. Its small. Its friendly for the most part. Its always going to be home. I know its like so many other small towns, but this one has my heart.

* I have to add that as much as I love this place there are things about it that I know will never change that force me to not be able to live here. I really just don't fit. Its nice visiting, and soaking in as many good times with my son that I can in a small, not-so fast paced environment.

Does anyone do it the right way?

I don't clean my house everyday. There are most likely dishes in my sink, Sometimes I turn a movie on that I know my son loves, so I can sneak a nap in. I don't cook dinner every night, and lunch consist of microwave mac n cheese often. I don't give my son a bath everyday. Some days I don't even put clothes on him; just let him run around in underwear.

I kiss his boo boos. I sing him songs. I suffer through thomas the train over, and over. I read him a million books. I drive around looking for "ho-ho" (santa). I watch him while he sleeps. I have dance parties with him. I take him to the park, and library. I play hide and seek with him. I laugh with him. I cry with him. I love him with my whole heart.

No, I'm not perfect..

My best friend - I miss you.

After all these years its hard to come up with things to write, but the memory of all the things I've remembered- written before is always there. You're always there. No matter what I do, or say you're always in there somewhere. So much of me is consumed by you that at times it annoys me. Its hard to let go of a person that is so much yourself. so much everything you want, need, and are. I think that if we were to see each other now, you would be completely shocked at how certain things have turned out.. but I know you'd be proud. As weak as I may be when it comes to you, because of you I'm stronger.

Its truly hard to believe that its been eight years. EIGHT YEARS. When the wind blows a certain way, or I hear something in the distance. It feels like for that split second you're really there. I close my eyes and see your face.. I hear your guitar.. I hear your bedroom door opening to go get something to drink in hopes of not waking anyone. I imagine you running your fingers across the ceiling as you walk into the kitchen. When I visited your mom after you died.. I could have sworn I saw fingerprints on the ceiling.. so I quietly stood on my toes and reached up to touch the places you had touched. I was scared to go in your bedroom.. afraid I'd see blood.. or see the way they had destroyed your room when they were "cleaning" it.. and gathering their information. Trying to figure out just who Bobby Wilmoth was, and why he would do such a thing. I sat out on the front porch with your sister.. letting her cry.. letting her tell me stories and me cry. I went to her house, and slept with the blanket you always used. I just wanted to be there.. in your life.

I wanted you in mine.

I really miss you. Things will never be the same, but I will never forget. Never is a promise.

I love you.

Sometimes it's easy to say nothing, hurt on the inside, and deny your pain. July 1st is a day I think about all the time. I dread it. Sometimes I wish that July 1st 2001 never existed. Just skip that day entirely. I think about you so much I don't even realize it sometimes. There isn't a time I hear a guitar, and don't think of you. There's so much I wish you could have seen- done. There's so much I want to tell you. I wanted to share you with the world. You had so much to give. So much talent.. so much beauty.. I am beyond grateful that you shared that with me. This flame that burns inside of me, burns stronger because I knew you. All of my stories about you have been told. I never get tired of them I just wish I had more. More stories.. more time.. more love.. more you. If I listen closely I can hear your voice. I bet you hate the way I've dealt with this. I just can't handle you and gone in the same sentence. It seems like a bad dream, with distorted images. Traces left on paper. Maybe I'm not the strongest person, but this has shown me that I am strong. I can deal with the uncertain.. shock.. greif.. agony.. and the great things. I've grown so much because of this.. because of you. That old saying "What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger" really rings true.

Your birthday is soon. I will celebrate it for you. I wish we could celebrate together.

Bobby, I hope that you've found your peace.
I love you.
I will forever miss you.
Sweet dreams.....

Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her
by Christopher Brennan (1870-1932)
If questioning would make us wise
No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;
If all our tale were told in speech
No mouths would wander each to each.
Were spirits free from mortal mesh
And love not bound in hearts of flesh
No aching breasts would yearn to meet
And find their ecstasy complete.
For who is there that lives and knows
The secret powers by which he grows?
Were knowledge all, what were our need
To thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?
Then seek not, sweet, the "If" and "Why"
I love you now until I die.
For I must love because I live
And life in me is what you give.