discovering my own brilliance...

my sleepless nights…

jeads — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 08:44:24 +0000

…are haunting. My thoughts are complex, my speech is simple. But my love–my love is vast, seemingly unending, infinite even. I don’t hear the voices of angels and demons. Instead, I hear the whispers of my ever-beating heart and tangled mind. My heart wants to go all-in. My mind wants to keep dancing..spinning, twirling, shaking. As I feel my soul ripping at the seams, I hear my heart say, “With her, you’ll never stop dancing.” My head replies, “I dance best when I’m alone.” My soul, like a ghost in the cellar, shrieks, “But I–I cannot write, I cannot speak, I cannot spell without love.”

Some days are better than others.

jeads — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 07:25:19 +0000

I find myself thinking–mostly of you or us or what I’ve dreamed of for years. I see potential greatness. But looming the shadows I see potential disaster. The utter thought of the gut-wrenching and wailing and the bitter taste of tears sets me aside–aside from myself, aside from my thoughts, aside from you…..aside from you. My heart’s even tempo quickly turns into the patter of nerves and fear and anxiety. I cannot escape you nor can I escape myself. This is when I run. This is when I push you away. This is when I lie here drowning in my own tears because the purest love is beckoning and I don’t know how to answer. I want to give you everything under the sun. I want to give your daughter everything under the sun. I want to provide for us, to hand you unconditional love without any repercussions. I want to sigh that sigh of relief because the love I have fought to preserve for years has finally come full bloom. But the sigh that I’m sighing tonight is one of retreat. My heart will fall back into the bunker I have built for myself. She will reside in the pits of my soul until further beckoning. She will hide from the fiery blaze of the passion you so nonchalantly toss in her direction. For fear has overcome once again. But she whispers, “True love shall prevail.”

All I need is a little more of you…

jeads — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 05:39:43 +0000

I could dream a million dreams
Tell a million jokes
Share a million hugs
Write a million poems
Count a million stars
Sing a million songs
Cook a million meals
Smile a million smiles

But nothing compares to the million thumps of my heart when i see you or the million times i think of you daily or the million daydreams of us, sitting on the porch, kids in the yard. Nothing compares to the million smiles my heart smiles when i wake up to your texts or when you make me blush. Nothing compares to the love i am surrounded by that is pouring out of your heart. And no matter how much i have of you, all i’ll ever need is just a little bit more of you.

status. quo.

jeads — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 06:47:33 +0000

I think about you…a lot. I dream about her…too much. Long days, eternal nights. My brain leans right as my heart pulls left. Consumed with thought, drowning in doubt, I stand alone. In the doorway, headphones humming, snapshots of what I wanted my life to be scroll through my mind. You’re there, she’s there, I’m stuck in the middle. My hands in my pockets, fiddling with change–a quarter here, a penny there, a new girl here, an old girl there.

I don’t know who I am without you. All I know is that I should. And I don’t know if I could stand another hand on you. But all I know is that I should.

I’ve lost the artist amongst the confusion and pain and ripping and tearing and reality. But isn’t that where my artist has been all along? I leave her at home. I hide her in my closet. I suppress her so that I cannot be breached.

I have a story to tell, a story that continues to unfold everyday. My heart unravels a little more every time I see you. Your smile penetrates my soul, your eyes pierce my heart. I try not to think of you but you haunt me.

You’re My You…

jeads — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 07:25:19 +0000

Here I sit, 3:13 a.m., and all I can think of is holding your hand. When you take hold of my hand my entire universe fades. For those moments when your hand is in mine I can’t think. I want to stop thinking. I want to stop. I want to sleep. I want you to hold my hand while I sleep. I’m tired. I miss you close to me. I miss falling asleep feeling safe. I miss…..I miss you. I miss us. My sleepless nights are saturated with you–thoughts of you, memories, fantasies, dreams, realities. I cannot escape the night. Sad. Lonely. Dreaded. Please, keep me company. Stop the night from stealing my mind. Take my hand. Keep me safe. Let me sleep.

our cracking bones make noise…

jeads — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 08:16:21 +0000

Uneasy about my future. Unhappy with the present economy. Over-qualified. Under-paid.

She sits and she stares, in complete and deep thought. If you listen closely you can hear her bones cracking and her blood boiling with rage. Her mind wraps itself around the unsteady income and the inconceivable state of her future. Terrified, she wonders what will come next. Unsure, she takes each day in stride.

Should she stay or should she go now?

To live comfortably………

I don’t ever want to get comfortable in something I cannot escape from. I do not want to become comfortable in something that will, essentially, hold me back. So if I live comfortably in a comfort that is holding me back, how then, can I actually be living comfortably?

One day. Big plans. Dreams do come true.

One day…..

another lonely night…

jeads — Wed, 11 Feb 2009 04:54:52 +0000

I want to:

be successful
find a job I love
have a kid or 2
be best friends with a mechanic so I can buy a junker and fix it up
have enough money for the things I need
have enough money for the things I really want
get my tattoo finished

I need to:

find my niche
find my motivation
get inspired
write more
think less
smile more often
take the good, bad, and the ugly with a grain of salt
worry less
love more
grow up
take responsibility
drink less
eat better
smoke less
stop saying “one more cigarette”
keep saying “I love you”
overcome my fears
defeat my subconcious
laugh more
cry less
just be myself

digging myself out…

jeads — Tue, 10 Feb 2009 09:25:20 +0000

In great attempts of digging myself out of this, what I shall call, a rut, I am forcing myself to write.

Sitting by watching you struggle not to go insane is eating away at my very soul. Knowing that I cannot physically hold you while your entire being is being thrashed and beaten keeps me up at night. Listening to you pretend to be cheerful, seeing that smile that hurts, and watching as you act out a life that isn’t truly you is disheartening. My wisdom befalls me. Your discomfort in this world defeats me.

My strength is a fallacy and my smile a mask. Hidden behind these lies is a desperate need for security. Weak, tattered, afraid, nervous, anxious. My heart races to catch up with my mind and my soul longs for a slow down. STOP THE WORLD! I WANT TO GET OFF!

Compliments. Disappointments. Strategies. Failure. Encouragement. Motivation. Unsuccessful.

Peace of mind. Tender-hearted. Breathing for just one second.

In a hurry to go nowhere fast, my feet move 100mph but I’m standing still. I dream big, I fall hard, I pick my heart up and stitch it back together. Carefully sewing around the pieces that are missing, I fail to regret any of the love I had given. One day soon.

Fragments fall out–in words on paper–as confusing as it is in my head. I think–nothing resolved–I think. My plans have yet to be set into action, though one day soon they shall be. My time here–wasted–I stay. Common pleas–judgment–guilty as charged.

My need to be inside your head at all times may seem overwhelming to you…it is to me. Though your thoughts are self-proclaimed nonsense, I know they are not. My thoughts are self-proclaimed nonsense though they are not. We think, it’s what we do. We think too much. We think at all the wrong times. We think. I don’t want to think anymore. I just want to be. I don’t want my head to lead. I want it to follow my heart.

I don’t want to be afraid to move away but I want to be able to come back. I don’t want to be lost in this world, I know I have my place. But I do not know where that place is just yet. HE has big plans for me, HUGE plans, plans I cannot imagine. But I have a constant, deep desire to know those plans. HE has big plans for you, ENORMOUS plans, plans you cannot fathom. But I want to be in those plans–no, I NEED to be in those plans.

She’s right, I do love you. And I’m not sure if she meant that in a good way or a bad way. And her saying you’d be stupid to let me go now leads me to believe you’ll let me go one day. But I refuse to be let go. I cannot be let go of. Regardless of what this is or what we are or what we’re doing or what we will be, I will NOT allow you to let me go. If she doesn’t like it, tough. The look she sees me give you isn’t just about this crazy good, foolish love we share. I truly, deeply care about you. Through thick and thin, come hell or high water, kisses or no kisses, I will be there. I will be there to hold your hand. I will be there to comfort you. I will be there to wipe your tears. I will be there to hold you up when you cannot stand. I will be there to cradle you in my bosom. I will be there to make you smile. I will be there for your comic relief. I will be there to stop your world. I will be there to support you. I will be there when all you need is silence and the comfort of a warm body. I will be there when you need to talk. I will be there to force you to talk. I will be there to tell you you’re skinny. I will be there to make sure you eat. I will be there. I will be there for you.

Getting it all out, fighting back the tears, swallowing the cold, hard truth of what is about to come.

I struggle to uncover my own brilliance when you’re not around. But I know that it’s there.

So in efforts of tunnelling through this thick muck that surrounds me now, I will continue to climb out of it. Lend me your hand.

to dream a dream

jeads — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 06:35:42 +0000

I got about 12 hours of sleep last night. Normally, I don’t sleep as much or as well as I should, however, recently I’ve been sleeping like a log (which reminds me of an episode of Ren and Stimpy where they sing about a “toy” log). Last night, though, I dreamt about a millions dreams and one by one they came back to me today while I was working. My dreams are sometimes very random and completely uncontrollable. If I wake up when I’m not done dreaming a dream, I am unable to get back into it no matter how hard I try.

So last night, or this morning rather, I dreamt about being in an accident with Cheryl (that’s my mom). But the thing is, the accident was the very first part of this particular dream. However, it wasn’t the beginning of the story. The dream went something like this…

Loading the last of the boxes, Cheryl and I look back at the house in tears, remembering everything that we had shared with that house and how we made it our home. I looked over at her and realized how strong she was being for my sake. But what I couldn’t see was they way she was dying inside. It was an unbelievably tragic day for us. Roger had passed just a day earlier and Cheryl decided that we NEEDED to move. We quickly packed everything we needed to get by in our new place and rented a moving truck. We didn’t have a new place yet and we didn’t know where we were going. But we packed up and we were one our way. Getting into the truck, Cheryl looked at me and said, “Welp baby girl, here’s to a new life.” She started her up and we turned around. On the way back past the house she beeped and we waved–much like a final “so long” to the place we called home for 25 years.

The streets were snow-covered and Cheryl was in no condition to be driving. (This is where the actual dream starts but this is where it gets tricky because of locations in the dream were not Pittsburgh, but of a place I did not recognize.) As we were approaching the on-ramp, Cheryl guns it. Spinning tires and slinging slush, we begin our long trip to a new place and a new life. As we are on the on-ramp (which is practically a horseshoe turn) Cheryl accellerates. We begin sliding off the road and into oncoming traffic. The moving truck speeds into a ditch and in efforts to make it up the hill, the tires hit out of sync and we begin to flip. We rolled about 3 times and all I could see was white. Foolishly, I was not wearing my seat belt and was ejected from the truck. As I was flying through the air my eyes were wide open but I couldn’t see a thing. My life wasn’t flashing before my eyes and I didn’t see a light. But I couldn’t utter a sound and I couldn’t move my body. As I hit the pavement the truck slams down on top of me and comes to a screeching halt. Seemingly paralyzed, I lie there in disbelief. I can hear the sirens and I can hear my mother screaming at the top of her lungs, searching frantically for me. I still cannot make a sound. I can’t scream and I can’t talk, I can’t even grunt.

The back left tire is still spinning, grinding my legs to a bloody pulp. Once the emergency vehicles arrive, they realize that I am trapped under the moving truck. Cheryl lays down on the ground and grabs hold of my hand. “Baby girl….Jessica….talk to me. Say something. Say anything! You’ve got to hold on.” I am unable to respond and I cannot even hold her hand. And right as the fireman kneels down to tell me what he’s going to do to get me out of there, my alarm goes off.

My dreams are sometimes, most of the time, all too real for me to wake up from. When I woke up I was confused, searching for someone to hold, to hold me. Alone in this cold house, terrified that my dreams were reality, I wake up believing that my father had died and I, too, was well on my way to death. There weren’t any noises and there weren’t any cars outside–maybe I wasn’t dreaming.

Alas, my phone rings and I am no longer afraid that I had been alone in this world. Life is abundant and this house is warm.

False happiness?

jeads — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 08:31:56 +0000

I’m happy. But am I truly happy?

If I am, why am I constantly searching for change? If I was truly happy with where I am and who I am, why am I diligently seeking something new, something exciting, something that will temporarily satisfy my deep desire for something different?
It isn’t just me either, it’s the rest of the world too. We all are, much too often, searching for something to make us happier. We look everywhere we can imagine for that one thing that will feed our hunger for change. And even so, why do the people who fear change, long for change much more than anyone else?
I am happy. I am content. Yet, I’m searching. A new haircut, a fresh tattoo, thicker earrings, new clothes, a place of my own, a different city with different people.
So, am I really happy? Am I truly content? How can I be when I spend my days searching and my nights dreaming?
Is it a false happiness that I so proudly boast of? Is it a facade to hide the true uncertainty or is my happiness masked in, what seems to be, a false happiness?