Posted in desire, dream, fear, heart, hope, introspection, invisibility, journal entry, life, loneliness, love, poetry, story, struggle, writing

Birthday Brunch

Birthday Brunch

Regardless of my social ineptitude and longing for human connection, it was a delicious (and vegan) brunch at one of my favorite places. I woke up a little sad yesterday and that sadness followed me all morning and into the afternoon. Sometimes eating a roasted apple crepe with peanut butter and drinking a sunburnt white Russian on a sunshiny day does not negate whatever emotion nags in your heart. The sadness waned though in the afternoon, thanks to a massage, some quiet time with a book at a coffee shop, and a dinner out with my parents and brother. A bipolar birthday for sure.

Posted in desire, love, poetry

If We’d Never Met

If We’d Never Met  I thought about you this week, flashback tripped by a song you told me to listen to months ago.  I wonder if I purged these memories, cleansed of you and your ghost, would I lose the strength built in their wake.  Could I trade this newfound backbone for a life without the ache buried  in the rings of my frame, forgetting the moment my heart sped, falling faster than the warning of the break?  Would I give up discovering the complexity of love, a depth unlocked as my desire awakened hearing my voice for the first time, vulnerable, flawed, scared, alive in exchange for freedom?  —Leanne Rebecca

I looked at the clock around 9:45 tonight and thought, man, I’m going to get to bed early, finally get a decent amount of sleep to kickstart my Monday without watering eyes and sluggish limbs. But then the itch began, the compulsion tingling behind my forehead, radiating to my fingertips, the cusp of a poem aching to spill out. So here we are, an hour later, an hour of sleep lost to creative whims.

Good night, my friends.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, desire, poetry

A Walk in the Rain

A Walk in the Rain  The gray consumed the cheer of daylight like a spreading fire engulfing its surroundings, a presence as looming as the fear  of asking a crush on a date.   I walked outside anyway, daring the sky to rain its demons down and envelop my body with discomfort, wet and cold and scared of the thunder.  Exhilarated I kept pace, seething with confidence, willing to take the chance  the storm could explode before I got home.

I’m more scared of being trapped inside all day than getting a little wet in the rain. Take the chance, always.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in desire, love, poetry

Geometry

We’ve aligned ourselves in a conundrum, standing in a circle that doesn’t connect, dancing round and round this game of heartache, tripping out of line, falling in passion's trap, waiting for the hand next door to pull us back into the flirtation of friendship, the guise of fitting together, sucked deep into the mystery of not quite chemistry, the him and the me and the him and the her and the us confused by timing, by equations we can’t solve. So we walk side by side at an impasse, frustrated by the same emotion, all in love but not with the right one.

I’ve been thinking a lot about love lately. One of my best friends just got engaged and we’ve been talking about how she knew that he was her partner for life. Her answer, simple and honestly vague, is that something deep inside her just knew.

There’s no common factor that can explain why sometimes we feel romantic chemistry and sometimes we don’t. There’s no trick to lining up that connection. I’ve always been someone that feels it right away and in my experience, no matter how much time I spend with a person doesn’t change whether or not that spark is there. I do believe that love is a decision, ultimately, but it’s foundation is built upon that invisible force that draws you to each other. It’s frustrating when chemistry just misses or when bad timing prevents the heart from sensing it. There are no set paths to falling in love and that exploration, that heartbreak, that discovery, that journey is why we write.

Posted in desire

Deja Vu

Deja Vu  She fought old habits  with an almost perfect record, suppressing the desire inside her stomach with the willpower of ignoring nausea, swallowing until the feeling abated, closing eyes until the chunks receded, breathing through each moment and winning.  All it took was a single lapse in control for the sickness to rise and remind her of how it felt the last time she fell and his touch and in that second of concession she made the mistakes again in characteristic progression, a single sliver of time to lose herself and everything she’d worked to change.   —Leanne Rebecca

My biggest life advice at the moment is to try not to overthink everything. Easier said than done, I know.

Have a splendid rest of your day, friends.

Love,

Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, desire, poetry, writing

Sunday Morning

Sunday Morning  She woke with a breath, a single stream of light shooting like an arrow into her squinting eye.   She stretched her arms wide, covering the expanse of the empty bed, hand lingering on the untouched pillow, longing tensing in her stomach like starvation.   She hated the need for him, that he consumed her first thoughts  on a Sunday morning, that he robbed her sanity.  She rolled over, gathering  an armful of comforter, hugging tight, cuddling something other than emptiness, holding on to something other than all the words she’d said to a brick wall.

I like the freedom of Sunday mornings, that I could sleep indefinitely if I wanted, that I can waste the morning making pancakes and then eat them in bed. I rarely make plans for Sundays, just drift through the day and see what happens, let who I see be a surprise.

–Leanne Rebecca