I miss the way your arms felt around me. I miss the shape of your chest and how perfectly my head rested there. I miss the sound of your heart beat. I miss the way your kiss took my breath away-every time.

You had no idea how much I loved you. How much I still love you. And how desperately I need you right now. Because truth is, I'm not sure I can beat this without you.

But it doesn't matter. You won't even read this. You've never read this.

I want to say so much more. And not just to you. I want to express everything I'm feeling. Release this mounting tension. But I can't. Staring at this computer screen causes too much pain.

Just Me.

I'm no good at this. It doesn't come natural to me to venture out. I flirted shamelessly, got a number, shopped at a store I've never purchased a thing from and it all just made me feel more empty inside. Erin made plans tonight so I had to fly it solo. I was tired of being in my apartment and I didn't want to be around Erin with her friend anyway. I certainly didn't want to be cooped up in my room. So I decided to use the gift card to the movies I got for my graduation. I took my seat and within minutes I was surrounded by couples. It was as though someone was trying to play some sick joke on me and it was obvious I wasn't finding it funny. I looked around the theater and I felt sick realizing I was the only one sitting alone. I almost left but I didn't want to waste a gift.

The movie I saw was Super 8. I actually didn't want to see the movie in the first place. But I didn't have much of a selection. Now you have to understand something about me, I don't get scared in movies. Okay, Paranormal Activity freaked me out. But other than that I'm fine. This movie made me uneasy. I guess it wasn't scary, it was suspenseful. And I had no one. With every passing moment that realization kept sinking deeper and deeper. I'm alone. No one to hold my hand and comfort me. No one to walk me to my truck. No one to walk to my door. No one to even come home to. I'm just alone.

As I pulled into my parking spot a song came on . I listened to it for a minute and I wanted so badly to live out the song. I broke down momentarily. But then I turned my truck off, and walked toward my apartment. There's not much to say. I have no one.

I guess I should just try and sleep now.

24 Tokens

There are labels to how I've been feeling. Depressed. Desperate. Alone. Heartbroken. Angry. Frustrated. Betrayed. Defeated... Do I really need to go on? Yet those descriptions barely even touch the surface to what's going on inside of me. I'm a whirlwind of emotions and insecurities and I'm too much to handle for the best of everyone, including myself. Desperate to release some of the pent up rage that's festering inside of me I made the decision to go to the batting cages after work.

Best decision of 2011.

Five dollars and I was handed 24 tokens. I grabbed a a crappy, overly used bat and walked down to the the softball cages. I skimmed the signs looking for fast pitch but I couldn't find any. Honestly, I didn't look very hard though. I was too anxious and uneasy so I just hurried into the last cage at the end. I put the first two coins in, pushed the black button and waited for my pitch. It came, and I swung and I missed horribly. I swung way too hard and way too soon. I yelled at myself to be patient. The next pitch came and I felt my muscles contract as I held my reflex back from swinging too soon. I swung again, and I hit nothing but hot Arizona air. My temper got the best of me and the next few pitches I swung furiously forgetting everything I knew. Tears swelled in my eyes and I felt like quitting but I liked the muscle ache too much. I'm too sick and out of shape for this kind of exercise. I went to put more coins in the machine and I took a deep breath. I began to beat myself up, telling myself that I was just a failure but I chose to stop. Yeah, that's right. I chose to stop. I put the coins in, pushed the button and got into a perfect bunting stance. I laid down ten perfect bunts. Five down a pretend third base line, five down first. I'm not a slow pitch softball player. I played fast pitch softball. I just needed to relax and get my timing right. I needed to breathe. I waited for the next pitch, counted in my head, and made contact. After that, I didn't miss a pitch. But it was more than that. I smacked the ball. Every pitch delivered with that perfect ding of the metal bat. I couldn't stop grinning. My heart was pounding and my hands stung. My breathing was heavy and my throat was beginning to get dry but I just fed that machine until I ran out of tokens. In that cage I forgot about everything. I didn't hurt anymore. I wasn't sick. I wasn't alone. I was somewhere else. I was someone else.

And everything was alright.

Under Construction

I tossed and turned last night, wishing the ache that had wrapped its entire force around my heart would not only release me, but would also loosen its grip on the rest of my body as well. Tears kept escaping my eyes though at that point I wasn't quite sure where they were coming from. They felt hot as they slid down my face and were caught by my pillow and part of me was slightly grateful for its warmth. The chilling fact of my solitude penetrated me deeply. I needed something to grab onto and hold, but the stuffed animals on my bed only reminded me of everything I didn't have so I shoved them all away. I just curled myself into a ball and begged for sleep.

I cannot ever control where my thoughts go. Just my actions. My actions last night were much harder to control than most nights. Between every pill in this house and the alcohol, it would have been easy. I would not fail. I began writing goodbye letters in my head. Some of them were angry. Spiteful. Characteristics that I'm not. I was allowing my wounded heart to take over. At one point I almost got up and went for it. I knew if I acted quickly I would do it. And it would be over. I wouldn't be here writing this with tears still streaming down my face and my heart breaking still into countless more pieces. No one would find me until what, past three? When I didn't show up for work? When I didn't answer a text? Or come out of my locked room? But then what?

This, of course, isn't all about a boy. Though he has a very big part in it. This is about how hard it is to live and function through the pain and confusion with this life-eating monstrosity inside my head. This is about putting everyone first when I'm constantly put last for everyone else. This is about being too much for you. This is about being strong, and putting on a show for the world and having to do it even for those that I shouldn't have to. This is about being unappreciated, used, mistreated, and never really understood. This is about not being worth it and having every relationship I have being based on conditions.

But you know what? Unlike everyone else in the world, I stick to my word. I keep promises. I don't just throw words around. There isn't a scratch on me. So the tumor will just take me. Or just life in general. As for me? I'm under construction. I'm building new walls.

If This Was A Movie

Last night I heard my own heart beating
Sounded like footsteps on my stairs
Six months gone and I'm still reaching
Even though I know you're not there
I was playing back a thousand memories baby
Thinkin bout everything we've been through
Maybe I've been going back too much lately
When time stood still and I had you

Come back come back come back to me like
You would you would if this was a movie
Stand in the rain outside til I came out
Come back come back come back to me like
You could you could if you just said you're sorry
I know that we could work it out somehow
But if this was a movie you'd be here by now

I know people change and these things happen
But I remember how it was back then
Locked up in your arms and our friends are laughing
Cause nothing like this ever happened to them
Now I'm pacing down the hall
Chasing down your street
Flashback to the night when you said to me
Nothing's gonna change not for me and you
Not before I knew how much I had to lose

Come back come back come back to me like
You would you would if this was a movie
Stand in the rain outside til i came out
Come back come back come back to me like

You could you could if you just said you're sorry
I know that we could work it out somehow
But if this was a movie you'd be here by now

If you're out there if you're somewhere if you're moving on
I've be waiting for you ever since you've been gone
I just want it back the way it was before
And i just wanna see you back at my front door
And I'd say

Come back come back come back to me like
You would before you said its not that easy
Before the fight before i locked you out
But I'd take it all back now

Come back come back come back to me like
You would you would if this was a movie
Stand in the rain outside til i came out
Come back come back come back to me like
You could you could if you just said you're sorry
I know that we could work it out somehow
But if this was a movie you'd be here by now

You'd be here by now
It's not the kind of ending you wanna see now
Baby what about the ending
Oh i thought you'd be here by now oh ohh ohh ohh
Thought you'd be here by now


My words aren't sufficient. All I know is it's over. And I don't know what to do. I'm alone.

Truth Is...

I'm a liar. I don't believe in fairy tales. I don't believe in happily ever after. I don't believe in the deep, passionate and aching love that so many country songs are about and I love to sing my heart out to. My relationship is far from perfect. It's actually hanging by a thread. And with everything else I have to deal with, I cannot handle this too.

My problem? How badly I want to believe. In so many things.

My life is a collection of Taylor Swift songs. But the wrong ones. Tell Me Why. You're Not Sorry. Forever & Always. White Horse.

Then to top it off there's this emotion. This stupid heartache over what shouldn't matter. I want to kick and scream like a little girl. I want to look into your eyes and tell you and just see if it would make any difference at all but knowing it won't. It was easier when I pushed it all away.

I can't even express myself the way I need to. Everything is jumbled.

Prayer Request

Lord,

Do you remember the night when I was only 12? When you gave me my greatest gift? You reached down from Heaven and held me in your arms. You planted faith in my heart that up until recently was unshakable. The last few months I've gone through a dry spell. I was going through the motions feeling so disconnected. I would have moments of clarity. Moments where it would all make sense again and my heart would be filled with that soul purifying longing that causes me to push on through despite everything. Lord my struggles are apparent. You know the secrets of my heart, the level of despair I feel and how much pain I'm truly in. It is not my place to ask you to alleviate my burden. I am not asking for the removal of my cross. I just need help with my promise.

Steph

So Much To Say.

I want to go to Utah and hide away in a cabin with you.


And sit on a porch with you.



Meet me halfway love?

The past day and half have been extremely difficult. More so than others. The pain in my head comes in waves and feels like a knife is being rammed into my skull. Mornings are worse. I open my eyes each day and I want to cry out in pain, just praying for some sort of end. Throughout the day my speech slurs, and I mix up my words. I'm not quite sure if others have noticed quite yet. They're very little mistakes, but they're very big to me, in countless ways. I rather have the pain. I'm becoming forgetful. Again, little things. But all these things keep me up at night, even though all I ever want to do these days is sleep. My body is so weak. I have no appetite. The pain is not only in my head, but coursing through my entire body too. A lesser dull pain. A nagging and constant ache. It intensifies sometimes. Creating my legs to buckle from underneath me and me to hold onto something to support me while I struggle to stand. I'm positive the doctors don't have it all figured out. There's too many symptoms and only one real problem they've found. A problem, of course, I didn't want. Not that anyone does. Still, his words keep going through my head. His tone of voice. I remember wondering how many times he had said similar things to other patients. How many had cried, how many had been angry. Or how many had just sat there like me and retreated far into their head and could only think about how they were going to go to bed when they got home. And then a Kenny Chesney song came roaring into their head. Maybe a few the former, probably none the latter.

I think I've made my decision. Whether it be the correct one or not.

Brain Dead

You get news like I get today and you expect support. You expect the ones closest to you to be there. You expect all those words about how you're not going to do this alone to mean something. You expect a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on. Something.

I can't make all of these decisions. I can't go charging down this road again. In fact I refuse. I surrender. Come what will, this fight is over.

And you aren't changing my mind.

Hold Me.

I've never considered myself someone of strength. I don't pride myself on how much I can handle or the amount of burdens I have carried throughout my life compared to others. I'm just Stephanie. Nothing special. That's all there is to it. I do, however, have a really hard time asking for help. Whether it's because I don't think I'm worth it or because I don't want to be a bother I hate doing it. But I'm really sick. Really sick. And I'm in an insurmountable amount of pain.and I need help. I need to cry and stop holding everything in because I hurt so much. I need to sleep. But mostly I need to not be alone. I can't do this alone. No matter how much I wish I had the strength to do so.

I'm running. No, I'm being chased. I use my height to my advantage. I've always been content being small. I can dodge things easier. Fit into spaces that others can't. I use all my speed and I'm getting away. Adrenaline pumps through my veins and my legs move faster. I yell at myself to not stop. I hear my heart beat and I run to its rhythm. I'm getting away. I'm going to escape. I did it. There's a bend in the path I'm running along. A corner I have to take and it's coming up fast. I'm almost there. I smile to myself knowingly. Even if my pursuer was right on my heels this turn I'm on the verge of taking would throw them. I'd gain critical seconds on them. My point guard speed and ankle-breaking agility would save me. Just like on the court the way I would cut through the paint and maneuver through the entire defense and lay in the ball without being touched. Life, after all, is just a game. A grin creeps onto my face as I round the corner. And then bam, lights out.

I should have known better.

Secrets

There is a certain level of emotions that I keep buried deep inside me. Buried deep down underneath a protective layer that is practically impossible to penetrate. For me it is almost a necessary survival instinct. Just in case even the closet of people in my life burn me I still have this. I still have this little sliver of emotions that they never touched. It would keep me from completely crumbling to the ground. Perhaps unconsciously we all have this compartment of secrecy. An area of our lives that is more guarded than the rest, even from those that we trust. But what happens when we keep vital information from others? What happens when nearly every problem that you're both facing lies in the secrets that one of you is keeping? What is worth protecting in that? But maybe that's not the real question. Who is to blame, really? Is it equal? The fault of the one who is keeping the secret? Or is the one who the secret is being withheld from somehow not trustworthy?

My thoughts are spinning.

I Want A Diamond

I love the way grass smells. Even though a big whiff of it makes my nose wrinkle and I have to stifle a sneeze. I love the shade of green it is. I love how each blade goes in its own direction, even just slightly. I love the way it dances when the wind blows. But let's be honest, I'm not in love with grass. In fact I believe it is as it's finest when it is hugging the thing that I am in love with; dirt. Oh but not any kind of dirt. That beautiful red dirt that stains your clothes. That gets in your eyes in those moments when you scoop up more than just ball and in one swift and graceful second gather the ball and rip it into first just before the runner hits the bag. Even after a hot shower, and a really good scrub, it still manages to leave its mark on you. A tinge of orange is wrapped around your legs. But I never minded it. It just means you got the job done. Left everything you had out on that field, on that beautiful dirt.

Other than pitch, I can play any position. But I'm a shortstop. It's where I belong and it's where I dominate. There's not a day that goes by that I don't miss that diamond. That I don't miss everything about that game. It hurts sometimes just thinking about it. Thinking about what could have been. My glove currently is right by my bed and I've been dying to just play catch. Because there's nothing out there like the feeling of a ball flying into your glove.

At one point I thought I was imagining it. My emotional symptoms were manifesting as physical symptoms. But this is too much. It's way too much. This familiar feeling of something being terribly wrong. The metallic taste of the blood in my mouth that seemingly comes from no where. The lack of strength. Oh how I have no strength. The smallest every day things that we all take for granted are so hard. Taking a shower tonight was such a monumental task. Holding my body up, raising my hands to wash my hair. I couldn't stop the tears from flowing down my face. I wanted to collapse. I'm so tired. So very tired. Every part of me hurts. And my head. The deep shooting pains that come in waves that blind me. The random moments when my face goes numb on my left side. But maybe what's worse is the confusion. Mixing up dates and questions. I can't do this.

What's wrong with me?