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Aug. 13th, 2011


Returning to the Scene of the Crime

It's still difficult to spend more than a night or two in this house without being bombarded with memories, both good and bad. I look around my room, see my bed, remember all the late night conversations. I see the spot where I curled up and didn't move for three days straight, crying myself to sleep, refusing to eat, withering away. Everywhere, there are reminders. The birth, life, and death of a romance.

I've only been here since Sunday... when is it time to leave again?


Jun. 5th, 2011


The Scars of Your Love, They Leave Me Breathless

Is there any song that reminds you so much of an ex-partner that you can't stand to hear it? Details, please.

Pretty much anything by Staind, but especially the song "So Far Away." Staind was his favorite band, and he used to send me playlists of songs to listen to - he's the reason I even listened to them aside from the song "Outside." I ended up associating their music with our relationship - "So Far Away" was the ringtone that played whenever he called my cell phone. Our relationship was long distance, which I swore I'd never do, believing them to be impossible or at the very least exceedingly difficult. But he managed to charm me right out of my lifelong mindset with minimal effort. Anyway, with us being a long distance thing and all, we talked on the phone a LOT. Meaning I heard that familiar tune every single day, usually several times a day. It's pretty much imprinted into my brain as a reminder of him and what I used to have with him until he decided to rip my heart out, stomp on it, kick it into a pile of dog shit, and light it on fire.

Did I mention he was my first, and only, love? Yeah.

- kb

May. 26th, 2011


Let Me See You Stripped Down to the Bone

So. It's been a long time, yet again. Almost a year since I've transferred my thoughts to the written word... A lot has happened in that time. I fell in love for the first time and experienced many of the things that accompanied it, made memories, planned for a future. But we all know what happens when you get too comfortable, too sure of things. It all came crumbling down in a horrifying display of sheer misery.

I learned a few things about myself in those months - namely, I don't handle heartbreak well. Or at all, really. I withdrew completely, stopped eating, cried constantly, didn't speak to anyone, the whole nine pathetic yards. It was as if my entire heart and soul had been forcibly removed from my body and ripped out through my ribcage. I wasn't stitched up. I wasn't given anesthesia. No band-aids for the wounds. No aspirin to ease the pain. Just raw, real emotions coursing through my body and mind day and night, keeping me awake and listless. I don't know how long it was before I finally started leaving my bedroom. I didn't see sunlight for over a month. I think back and shudder at how much I let it affect me. I've been let down so many times before, but this one was different. This one was so much worse. Still, I wish I hadn't let it almost kill me like it did. My dreams, though few, were morbid and frightening, full of death and pain. I wished for nothing more than a long-lasting coma or severe amnesiac episode, anything to make it stop. I always did feel things too hard - the good is better, but the bad is much, much worse. People tend to find me hard to deal with for that reason; they don't understand that the fun-loving, happy, cheerful Kristina has a dark side. Few have stuck around after seeing it. That betrayal takes some getting used to.

On a brighter note, I'm actually regaining a bit of my sanity these days. My best friend from high school, Danielle, with whom I'd lost touch when she joined the Navy and I went to college, recently re-entered my life and renewed my interest in social interaction. I'm staying with her and her amazing, beautiful daughter Jasalynne in Maryland, and the change of scenery, coupled with a plethora of other things, have really helped me turn myself around. Some days you could even say I feel happy again. It's a nice change of pace, not constantly praying I'll get struck by lightning or suffer a sudden, unexpected brain aneurysm. Who knows, maybe one day these wounds and the scars they leave behind will fade to nearly nothing.

Here's to hoping.
xoxo kb

Jul. 30th, 2010


Writer's Block: Mind Reader

If you were given the choice to read one other person's thoughts, but only if they could read yours too, would you take it? If so, who would you choose, and why?

The person whose mind I would read, if I were to do it, is a girl who is probably my best friend. She already knows almost everything about me and vice versa, and the exceptions we could surely handle. So why would I even want to be able to read her mind, you ask?

For the very simple reason that we would be able to converse through our own thoughts. I've always thought that would be fucking cool. The possibilities are endless. Plus, she goes abroad for college, so we would be able to keep instant communication from across an ocean. She is one of very few friends I predict I will actually stay close with over the years and thus I'd be much less likely to regret sharing thoughts with her. Oh, and we could be each others' silent wing-woman. I am notoriously bad for making godawful faces when my friends are approached by a less than desirable character. At least with her I could save face (no pun intended) and simply think it to her: "Abort, ABORT! He looks like a fucking rapist!" Intertwining our thoughts to that degree could very well strengthen our friendship, as well. This works out for me as I am terrible at keeping in touch, even with the people I care about most (see: family).

Even when we're older and she has four kids and I have four cats and maybe one accidental out-of-wedlock child, we could be each others anchors to sanity. It's nice to have a friend when you're feeling the urge to drown yourself in the bath. Maybe the only time it wouldn't be truly useful is when we're old and senile - but I've always said once I can't wipe my own asshole, I don't really want to be around anyway. If I've lived a long, full life, I don't really want to stick around just to drool on myself and shit my pants all day. That's no way to live. Plus, reading our thoughts would probably consist of things like "I like pudding" and "Who are you?" and "What's my name again?"

I gave it a lot of thought, and yes, I most adamantly would do it.

- sin

Jul. 24th, 2010


Only When I Lose Myself

Funny. When I posted that first/last entry almost two years ago, I had every intention of keeping up with it. Funny how history has a habit of repeating itself. My history, especially, is rife with repetition. Blogs are just the superficial tip of the iceberg. How many times have I been faced with an unpleasant situation and simply turned my back on it, hoping it will go away through sheer force of will and complete avoidance? How many times have I set a goal for myself, to change my ways, and within a week return to my former lifestyle? And how many times have I sworn I will keep in touch, only to let friendships fall by the wayside?

In my case, it would seem that the shitty decision making aspect of my history has a way of repeating itself. The good things, the goals, the best laid plans of mice and men? Not so much.

Here's to hoping that old habits can be broken. Maybe my history can finally remain just that - history.

- sin

Dec. 15th, 2008


I Need Some Fine Wine and You, You Need to be Nicer

I've decided to give this blogging deal another shot. This isn't the first time, but all of my previous attempts to keep up a blog have failed epically. So we'll see how this goes.

Anyway, I'm a bit too tired to wax philosophic right now, so this is more of a filler blog so I can get rid of that stupid "Welcome to Livejournal!" one. Perhaps this will be the only blog I ever write on here. Who knows. If I do manage to start something up when I'm not partially catatonic, this will most likely be deleted.

That's it for now.

xoxo sin