> "Fear rules all, and this seagull-ass motherfucker is beginning to smell of decay"

The last line of a blogpost I made here in late October. So far removed from this sentiment, I struggle to remember who wrote it. An unsure girl, aching from the shards in her soles, follows a rose petal trail into a tunnel. There is no light to be seen, yet she trusts the petals enough to press on. She couldn't have known where they would lead her. In fact, it could have easily taken eons of guessing to get it right. Still, she had faith that they would take her somewhere greener, somewhere cleaner; I bet she had something beautiful in mind.

Then came December, and with it an opportunity for growth, comradery, and a glimpse into the future. Finally, I could see it and wanted to be a part of it, a part of her. I can pinpoint the moment. It must've been 3am. Her, a friend of ours, and I sit on a couch taking turns to sing and play guitar for one and other. I don't remember the tune, just her facing me as she starts into it. Her voice seemed to penetrate my ears and absorb into the membrane, carrying the sound into my bloodstream, and eventually pumping into my heart. I felt it, that tightness in my chest. Your breathing changes, your temperature rises, and your body feels lighter, as if you might even begin to levitate.

Holy shit.

I remember this feeling. It's lucid. It's intimidating. It's powerful. I'd been waiting for this moment, for the moment in which I could allow myself to fall in love again. However, love does not wait for you to be ready. It throws itself onto you, and demands acceptance or denial. I didn't have a choice. Love threw itself onto me, and it stuck. Little did I know, it had been stuck on her for awhile too.

I always knew that moving to the city would change things. My gut fluttered with excitement for her when I imagined all of the potential she could realize outside of this smudge on a map that we grew up in. She couldn't have known. How could she? She had encased herself in a concrete cocoon of shame, terror, and misery. Yet, with the strength of a million razor sharp diamonds, she cut through that grey prison, and revealed her raw true self to me. I virtually ran into her arms with love, affirmation, and began to knit a blanket of comfort for her to feel safe in. This blanket has grown large enough to fully envelop both of us and now, when alone together, we exist within it naturally.

Today, she is a person neither one of us thought could exist, and she continues to surprise herself and I everyday with new personal developments. Of her own accord, she's taken the tender parts of myself that felt undesirable and exploited, the parts that yearned for genuine care and connection, and through them has created avenues for
healing.
Through this, I've made it clear that I will carefully be following her lead, trying my best to not step on her heels. Her pace is quickening at a rate that I am constantly astounded by, and I am gleefully running hand-in-hand with her.

Last night, taking a stroll through the images of days long past,

my girlfriend stumbled upon a certain video of mine. A fourteen year old girl, alone in her childhood bedroom, wears a thick, wavy, lilac wig, and jumps along to A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a Little More “Touch Me”. I jokingly remark that in that moment captured on film, I was the happiest I've ever been. We discuss a little further before she proposes me a question:

"Are you happy now?" The question sat in the air before me for an almost uncomfortable amount of time. Only four words, yet they were powerful enough to push me onto my back in the bed we were sat on. I knew the answer, but vocalizing it was daunting. It was almost as if I couldn't allow myself to confirm it. But still, I did.

"I am. I think I could be the happiest I've ever been." I couldn't look at her when I said it; my peripheral view of her was enough. I stared into the ceiling knowing that if I did directly look... tears.
She didn't say anything, only smiled, wrapped her warm arms around my body, and laid her head on my heaving chest. This is what it feels like. At one point I thought I knew, but relatively, I had no fucking clue.

To be loved.

In the past 30 days, our relationship has completely changed. At long last, the sprout we’ve been carefully nurturing has blossomed and from here, as a unit, we look towards the sun in the daylight, and tuck our petals and leaves in come nighttime.

It took an innumerable amount of bravery, honesty, trust, understanding, and that big word to reach this place, and god is the weather nice. As far as my eyes can see, there is only up from here, and we’re ascending at an exponential rate.

http://www.garyjkirkpatrick.com/wp-content/uploads/women-embrace2-224x300.jpg

A carp stagnant under thick sheets of ice,
captured in a slice of time,
waits for the next moment.
Unsure of how or when said moment will arrive,
the fish remains patient.

Accompanied only by the subtle vibrations
of a penguin belly-soaring along the ceiling,
the carp imagines what the sun may look like
uncensored by the overbearing translucent mass above.

"I'd like to ask the penguin
how it looks,
but my lips have been frozen for so long
I'm not sure I would even remember
how to move them if I could,
and my thoughts aren't loud enough
to penetrate the surface."

White paint
chipping off the grey textured wall
before me
holds my vision hostage.
Chips giving way to time,
descend in a rocking motion
to an impossible floor.

A minute, to 4 hours, to 7 months,
my eyes track their movements.
Where they go once beyond
of the border of my eyelids,
I can never know for certain.

I exist in one frame:
These enveloping grey bricks
that will soon hog
the entirety of my sight.
The white chips of paint
will not last forever.
Gravity relentlessly pulls
them away from me.

I mourn each of them.
As in fact,
I’ve grown quite attached to them.
They’re so much more interesting
than I could ever hope to be.
Their edges peeling up
form unique angles and dips
that I often imagine
are waves, or heartbeats.
Their shapes seem
so much for alive than I.

Amidst my grieving,
one nagging thought
is always scratching
at the back of my head.
Digging it’s claws in,
it pulls it’s body down,
tearing my seams.

Idiosyncratic
white sheets:
where are they going?
Do they eternally search
for that impossible floor
or do they simply cease to exist?

There must be more than this wall.
There must be a destination for them.
I want to follow,
but I am terrified.
That impossible floor
looms beneath me.
Sadistic, it slowly rips the last
of the sojourning shapes
from my frame.

All I see is that grey brick now,
and I am eternally at the will
of the impossible floor.
I beg to be released.
I pray to be released.

I wanna hear the playlists you guys have made! Feel free to drop em here with a little description of the vibes.

Here are a few of mine I'm proud of:

• All things girl punk https://open.spotify.com/playlist/22gE66jWb91PZJbnpUXIPm?si=MzzY-NFPQG-lnc11IlcdwQ
• Big ole emo playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4lr2CdGx1UBoW3qr5YcpJL?si=uvNLQJtRQ1uS1tMfGKAIfw
• Shoegaze, darkwave, generally buzzy tunes to drown to https://open.spotify.com/playlist/78avKxes9U2oijW6vqBqRh?si=zz88LTOERO2rKfLAbHDoGw
• Here's the wildcard Country tunes to warm you up on a cold night https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0AfYrBSjPOkTlZ7GlDk4cB?si=lhJQGUnVTlqVcapk8frUcA
• Melancholic tunes to ascend to https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4Qxv2Xp0wXv8HQetoV4M45?si=OXwFXfKvTXC4Mk9X_p4cFA
• Literally just sea shanties... https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2iNIMNwUUenvIpsh39ZLXg?si=R-2PA_I9QjSM7Aoel3ZyQQ

1. Cool - luxury elite
2. Deadbolt - Thrice
3. Tears Don't Fall - Bullet for my Valentine
4. Narrow Head - Stay
5. Toshifumi Hinata - Reflections
6. A Box Full of Sharp Objects - The Used
7. Comfort - Makthaverskan (with rain sounds I added 4 atmosphere lol)
8. Disengaged - Grouper (w/ rain sounds)
9. Groan - Dazey and the Scouts (w/ rain sounds and... creative liberties)

Communication...

WTF is that?

How are you supposed to you ask for things you want? How are you supposed to express your feelings with those you care for most?

Yenno, growing up I was told that the phenomena of wanting your partner to intuitively know how you feel and what you want was a female thing. Well, as I attempt to navigate my first set of experiences with this issue, I'm beginning to believe that the problem lies more with the damaging gender roles that were tattooed on my frontal lobe.

Don't talk too much. Be subservient. Be weak. Act like a lady.

Lasering off tattoos is an extended and painful process.

Perhaps the "Just talk to him!" advice is the ultimate solution here, but first I must address the preliminary problems inhibiting my ability to do so. For instance, the concertation of seeming crazy or of irritating him. These anxieties have no valid basis in our relationship, yet they remain as the the albatross around my neck.

Could it help to yell an exiguous few things I can't yet say to him into this corner of the internet? They won't echo far enough for him to hear it before they're ready to be received, so it seems safe. But upon writing some things down, the things tell me they'd rather remain unread and unsaid.

Fear rules all, and this seagull-ass-motherfucker is beginning to smell of decay.

https://wildbeardman.files.wordpress.com/2018/06/albatross.jpg?w=640

This is gonna be a long list...

• Elliott Smith
• Deftones
• Marilyn Manson
• Panic! At the Disco
• Fall Out Boy
• My Chemical Romance
• Thundercat
• Marty Robbins
• Chris Stapleton/The Steeldrivers
• 100 gecs
• Paramore
• Alice in Chains
• Bring Me the Horizon
• Bauhaus
• Rick James
• Post Malone
• Doja Cat
• Nothing
• H.E.R.
• Phoebe Bridgers
• Thrice
• Donny Hathaway
• AJJ
• Breaking Benjamin
• Remo Drive
• Neutral Milk Hotel
• Misfits
• Destroy Boys
• IDLES
• Hüsker Dü
• Jimi Hendrix
• The Wonder Years
• Falling in Reverse/Escape the Fate (fuck ronnie radke tho)
• Rhianna
• Three Days Grace
• Dorian Electra

Annnnd that's all I have the energy to write down... lemme know if we have some music taste in common!