my lot too.

i spent the first hours of black friday* on my bed with a friend addressing the tensions over the last six months or so. the distance and avoidance. the felt separation.

from kindergarten to high school i went to seven schools. 

kindergarten at my church.

first grade at an elementary close to home.

second and third grade at a new magnet school that opened.

fourth, fifth, and sixth grade enrolled in a gate program across town.

seventh grade at a private school.

eighth grade at a public school (the private school closed).

high school at one place.

we only moved once that whole time, to the house that i now live in. but i never had the chance to keep friends because i was always in a different school. i would have a best friend for one or two years and have to say goodbye. when i realized that i had two or three friends at my church, i clung to them. i wasn't leaving my church any time soon. but those friends have since bowed out of my life. i haven't spoken to them in two or more years. and there have been new friends that have come along. some have recently moved further south. others are in their beginning stages. and i am thankful. but this does not change my upsetting history with friendships. 

my friend and i talked about ears that judge, keeping a record of wrongs, unreciprocated availability and the uneasiness that is a product of rejection. i told her i needed her. that as much as i am afraid to enter into friendships due to my history of being royally screwed over, i am willing to work through it. that as much as i want to say i am done being relegated to a spot on the edges of your life, i love you and find you to be valuable. i expect to be disappointed in relationships and that isn't fair. it isn't giving her a chance. but she has disappointed me. there will be more chances to give. making friends is hard for me, i admitted. i don't know who to trust and am used to being overlooked, replaced, and used. there was mutual sharing and apologies and forgiveness. we consecrated the moment with prayer and a hug and a promise to stay friends.

and in the morning i wept. for the friendships that have collapsed on themselves. the friendships that were not kept. who will be my friend?  i asked of the Lord. who will care for me? who will extend a hand of mercy and a word of loving correction? and who will let me be their friend? who have i to care for? who will give me place in their lives? i recognized Him as the Steadfast One, the Faithful One. He is my forever friend - this is a source of deep pleasure and comfort. and i beheld Christ who was rejected and despised among men, a man of sorrows, aquainted with suffering, the One whom people hid their faces from. i considered His experiences of betrayal and loneliness. i remembered the accusations against Him, the misinterptation of His words and deeds. His friends could not even keep their eyes open and pray by His side in His final moments of despair. and i wondered if this was my lot too. and i wept for Christ - forsaken, bruised, and killed. the light of life, extinguished.

*i know people call it 'good friday' and that's fine. but for me, it's jumping the gun to celebration. it is turning our eyes from the torture too quickly. it interupts the shock, the disorientation, the sadness. it is the Church's duty to behold Christ, the suffering servant. my gratitude deepens when i see His chest heaving for breath and, finally, still. He is faithful to the end. He is my company in despair.

go at it alone,

and though i will go at it alone,
today will better.

my fatigue

the truest fact about friendship is that it takes work.

there was something odd about yesterday. you see, it is not a friendship i would have fallen into naturally. it is not a friendship i was even sure i wanted a month or so ago. what is it then? this is what i am trying to identify, to determine. what is it? i can say emphatically that it is forced, that it is a result of arguments and being fed up and choosing (oh, that word) to give chances and leave room for growth and the possibility of God-knows-what. this is a forced friendship. however, it being forced does not detract from the opportunity in front of me and from the undeniably exquisite individual that sat adjacent to me on a forest green couch. she has dreams, opinions, a sharp personality. solid girl. and i never doubted this - except for the outbursts i eavesdropped on and was told about. but even in those theatrical displays of emotion, i knew it likely that she was finding her way in a messy situation. how i wished she would have held her tongue! how i desired of her only one thing - to let go! i know the urges well. and have, like her, had to deal with the repurcussions of such foolishness, regardless the many ways we justify our rants and interjections and clinging. i know the pangs of heartache and the fatal realization that what once was real, solid, tangible is now slipping, quickly, through one's fingertips. yes, i could contextualize my contempt for this young lady and, while trying my hardest not to rationalize it and give it an 'okay,' understand where she is coming from (and, honestly, relate).

this is all vague. all horribly vague. but the outcome of this all... is friendship. an awkward extension of my hand (and hers) in hopes that something can be salvaged, restored.

what was odd about yesterday had nothing and everything to do with her. my speech, the way i carried conversation had no direction. i have recently discovered that i often interupt myself. the order of stories evades me. all easiness is far removed. this is usually with those i am not intimately acquainted with. and given the circumstances, it makes sense that this is the self i put forward. guarded. detached. fake laughs (or should i say, nervous laughs). the appearance of being something, fueled by the need to be something. if she ever over the course of our time together yesterday questioned, as i did: why am i doing this? why the hell am i choosing this? i had to give her a reason. i felt the obviousness of my false self. i wonder if she noticed.

probably.

but the thing is: i was trying. perhaps too hard. i must admit, the only thing i felt afterward (soon followed by thankfulness) was exhaustion. i felt as if i just completed a full day at work. my voice was tired. my head was pounding. and my heart sunk as i recognized how pathetically i relied on a shell of myself for five hours. my fatigue was not a suprise, considering this.

i believe, am i really saying this?, that something good can come of this. that friendship can blossom. that restoration can happen. now, the only catch is that she respect everything we discussed prior to this hopeful prospect. but, assuming she will, not much more can go wrong. i suppose the other catch (yes, there are two) is that i put forth my real self, my full unapologetic self. even if a deep level of intimacy is never reached, i still want to do this, must do this.

for strangers.

for friends.

for family.

for acqaintences.

so that i can be a true, consistent presence in the lives of others.

p.s. we ate lavash and hummus. this is one of my most favorite snacks. if it were up to me, my parents would purchase items like this instead of the ice cream, cookies, candies, and other preservative infused foods that line our pantry and refrigerator. when i get a place of my own and purchase my own groceries - they will be much more healthy.

it is hard

today it is hard not to cry.

the condnundrum

leaving a place i considered home was a formidable task.
even the consideration of leaving made me shudder.

looking back, six months back i can see that the shuddering was fear.
violent, robust.
there was this feeling that i would be the only one grieving the fallout. perhaps i would be the only one experiencing this goodbye as an eruption of reality. as a complete debacle. perhaps the chalky dust-filled air and accumulation of rubble only meant ruin for me. and for them, well, it was life as usual: people come and go and it becomes easier each time because life goes on.
there was this feeling that my absence would not be felt. i cringed at the likelihood of my replacement.* and how that meant i would soon be forgot, or worse remembered. and to be relegated to a memory felt like failure. specifically, being a memory without impact. i wondered if i had made an impact, one enough to miss.

approximately two months ago i began to get messages.
imissyou messages.
and i wrestled with the conundrum of imissyou.

what does it even mean?
that i've passed your mind like the fact that you need gas in your tank or like the test you need to study for? that i was, to quote the infamous juno macgruff, "a piece of furniture in your weird life" and you miss that old chair or coat rack? that you realized that we haven't talked in months and decided to make mention that you finally noticed?

i expect a follow up to imissyou.
because the words, though i love them - need them at times - are insufficient. it seems so imprudent to do nothing that corresponds with longing. if you miss someone, you do something about it. right? and when you say you are going to make plans, you follow up. right? and if you can't meet up because you're busy, you make it happen because you miss that person and they are worth shifting a schedule or working out a day to meet. right?

i am grieved that imissyou has become a courtesy rather than a true expression of desire.
i want to matter.
miss my smile.

miss my laugh.

miss my conversation.

miss my presence.
miss my ideas.
miss my kindness.
miss my silliness.

when you don't express that you are still there and haven't forgotten, i will assume you have moved onto bigger and better things. and that my being gone had something to with that. i need to know that you would still be there, even though we don't see each other often. or at all.

i just want you to acknowledge that i was important to you, at one point at least. that a text message, facebook comment isn't enough to satisfy the relationship. that you want relationship with me.
(this is by no means saying that i am unhappy with the ones i have here and now. in fact, there is so much more room to engage in deep relationships because [lots of changes] took place inside me and outside me).

then and there, i said hello and how are you to many but not much more. i had other concerns. what a terrible waste of opportunity. i took advantage of the four years i had to build relationships and develop into myself. and i spit on them and chose to stay. stuck. i failed to be present for people and was preoccupied with self-preservation, manipulation, control, and the desperation to be loved by a single person - nobody else mattered. perhaps that is why these imissyou messages seem so empty. i never gave people something they could miss enough to do something about it.

so when you say imissyou, i don't really know what it means.

and it makes my heart hurt because

i know

i know

i know

you won't follow up (with me at least).

*replacement is a funny thing. i know in function i can be replaced. but i refuse to believe that i can be replaced as person. the qualities of another may be similar to mine but they are not mine. i am an altogether unique being, in the sense that the combination of knowledge, experience, fears, etc. are mine alone. i am not unique in the sense that at the end of the day i am human and we are not as isolated from each other as we like to believe. the human experience is a shared one. but who i am, the person of stacey is largely unique. i suspect i've been replaced in many ways. and i see it in pictures and the way people don't talk to me anymore. didn't we hang out three days a week for four years? and i think it shocked me at first. i resented them. and sometimes, in all honesty, i wonder why i wasted time with people who don't find me valuable enough to keep talking to me, to keep hanging out with me, etc. and upon seeing [the replacement] i just kept thinking, over and over again, "get your own friends. get your own life. go. away. they. are. mine. and we would all be better off without you. take that daft smile. that flowy hair. that genuine personality. that ever-so-likable quality that has people swarming around you. and go. away. because you are living the life i wanted for so long but was too unhealthy to live. because you are making this harder than it needs to be." and that may be rude. but nobody likes to be replaced. and nobody likes to fall into the hole of comparison. and come up with a pile of reasons why they have been replaced. nobody. and even though i am convinced that the person of stacey is largely unique, wonderfully unique and special. it is hard to live that out. even after six months.

trapped

i want to move away and start fresh.

these streets are too close.

the freeway. the parks. the stores.

i feel trapped by memories.

i want a life that has no reminders.

about anything i experienced prior to this past may.

and the moments of foolishness between then and now.

i want to forget forget forget the people and places.

and the pain they brought me.

the insecurity they engrained in me.

right now i do not care for the good things anymore.

they are overshadowed by the hurt.

what good is remembering when all i see and feel and experience now is aching?

what good is remembering when it leaves me so disorientated?

i can choose to not dwell on things.

and i have been. and will continue to.

i can choose to stay away from things and sources that will remind me.

but a familiar area will always be familiar area.

yes, i want to move away, need to, desperately.

not mine to allocate

give me my mornings and i will love you well. all i ask for is an hour. without the sighs and cracks and morning stories and voices of others. these all will serve as an annoyance as i wake and walk. know that i need this hour above all else to warm to life, to pull back the curtains and blinds window by window, door by door. it is sacred, the sounds of heavy curtain fabric gathering and thin plastic blinds tapping. click. click. tap. like crackling incense. these traditions are my hello to the world. the sensations of morning beg my devotion. wood floor, frigid from the night, kiss my feet and cool my body. the railing on the stairs, chipped paint and all, greets my hands that are too wrinkled in a similar fashion. an empty house is ideal for such tradition but if you are there, you will be peripheral to the movements and motions of my morning.

give me my mornings to pull a small handful of almonds sans shell, smooth and pale on the inside, from the water-stained glass container with orange trimming on the kitchen counter. the outer layer, brown with many grooves like unsanded bark, will soon get stuck in my molars. the only cure for such a predicament is watered down orange mango juice that is too sweet on its own and an uncut banana. cold. hard. mushy. textural juxtapositioning.

and even though time is not mine to allocate, give me my mornings.

and if you cannot give me my mornings give me my nights.

one day, some day my request for alonedom may change.

but if it does not.

be gracious. and honor small petitions for silence.

thankfulness the mother of excitement

my freshman year of college i was frightened the most lucid white as i stepped on campus.

i only knew a handful of people. and of those, only knew one really well.

my sophmore year of college i was less frightened.

i still had not made many more friends. i was still a commuter. it was the most challenging year of my life thus far. self-awareness. awareness in general. movement away from things and people that had defined me for far too long.

this is my junior year.

and i am not frightened.

i stepped onto campus for music campus registration.

the sea's breath like a

tornado of

welcoming ribbons

round my body.

overcome with a sense of belonging.

my feet

thick and strong

roots

in the ground

beneath.

and only a handful (or two) of friends.

but i can call them friends.

thankfulness the mother

of excitement.

and i still commute. i will most likely never live on campus. but passing hundreds of cars on the freeway at twenty (or seventy five) miles per hour. filled with people who have big noses and deep set eyes whose lives are intricately complex. is something i love. not to mention the sun hanging brightly in the morning sky between whitest clouds.

a commuter at heart. who prefers a room with one bed. and enjoys the company of none. who is re-energized by solitude. even though it scared her at first. and finds herself drained when spending all day with people. but who is extremely grateful for a shared existence. a community of sinners and saints who are, in their own unique ways - whether they are aware of it or not, reaching for the hem of His garment.

balance, stacey, balance.

a sweet dance. duo.

aloneness.

community.

this year shall be resplendent:

in color

in thought

in movement

[period]