Time. Truths. Hearts.

Let me hear you call my name.

Well, we meet again.

I'm Alexa, but you already know that. However, you might call me Lexi, which is cool. Like me, cool that is. I make my own friendship bracelets like it's my job. But it's not. I work at a seasonal restaurant. I have an iPhone and we all know that makes me superior or something. Oh yeah, I'm like 21 or something like that. I love photography and have a Nikon D60... which I don't use. What more could you want from me? Just read.

More than words.


You know you love me, too.
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Moments Like This
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Written by Mike

Hey, so I woke up and I couldn't fall back asleep, so I finished writing something. Its about you, but other things as well. I don't know, it might be pretty pessimistic, but I just kind of see the world negatively other than you sometimes....

I watch the drunken affections of a desperate bar. I consciously watch the people that come and go through the doors, begging for acceptance. It doesn't matter where it comes from; a bottle of vodka, the flash of a beauty smile, or a night of wild sex with a complete stranger. It all does the same in the morning. It leaves one with a false sense of appreciation and reception. And I watch these people drink their liquified confidence, and expose their drunken desires publicly. The drunken text messages, the over eccentric flirting, the make out sessions in the shadows that they think no one sees.
And it brings me back to a time where I remember looking to the bottle to cover my blemishes and fuel my drunken confidence. I get it. The thrill of the chase they say is the ultimate high, the ultimate portal to all earthly emotions. It is the mysteriousness of the unknown; the dressed desire. But no one is looking for sex; but they only feel the short-lasting effects of an orgasm, met by a sip of regret and coping cigarette; or the desperate search for a coke dealer at 3:43am on a Thursday night. The artificial ecstasy passes, and the loneliness comes crawling back like a demon in the shadows.
And while I used to find jealousy with the rush-seekers that flock to bars like zombies every Saturday night, now I find pity. They did nothing wrong, they're actions are nothing to judge them by. They are not bad people because they seek alcohol, drugs, and sex to fill the voids in their life. But after years of walking up that road, I have discovered the untraveled path that lies beyond. The love of my life.
She is an constant in this mess that I call life. Her patience and understanding has slowly penetrated my pores and filled my veins with real confidence and comfort. That while loneliness exists, it comes in small doses. When I am with her my confidence travels through me like a burst of electricity. I feel energized around her, and I feel every inch of me is worth existing. It doesn't take flattery, it does not take sex, it doesn't even take a kiss to feel her permeate through me; just a look. A sudden pass into those eyes and I feel as if maybe I matter to this world, because I matter to her.
Now I find a true fear in the unknown. It is unforgiving, unreliable, unbelievable, unbiased, and unreal. It is a creation of a drunken mind, seeking the approval that was never handed down through love. Well I have found love, and I have held that approval, and I'm thoroughly addicted. I am addicted to every kiss, to every touch, to every feel. To every gaze, to every question that needs not answering, and to every moment that I feel comfortable in my own skin. For that is the most important thing that one tries to find throughout life. Maybe that is the key to happiness: finding comfort in the imperfect skin that covers one's vulnerable body. Well I have found my comfort in her eyes, her love, her kiss, her body, the warm sensation that courses through me when she touches me. I love her more than anything because she has allowed me to love myself, a gift few people are aware even exists.
So while they fill their soles with alcohol and loveless sex, and call their lives extravagant and spontaneous, I think of it as pathetic. Because I have her to fill in my blanks and allow me to fall asleep every night, and all of these people, drowning in their false sense of appreciate, are searching for a temporary fix.

I dont know if any of that makes sense... but you always say I dont write in the notebook, and I know this isnt IN the notebook, but yeah...

Goodbye.
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