Angel Numbers

Yesterday, I purchased a gift for myself. I finally acquired the furniture item that I’ve desired for months (and basically my whole life) but, for some reason, thought it would be more difficult to obtain. I should say I manifested it. I consciously brought this lovely possession into my reality, once I decided I needed it and that it was finally time to have it. And after getting it and trying out a few possible (and unsuccessful) furniture rearrangements, it still ended up being just where I envisioned it sitting and it is absolutely perfect. My bedroom is now a hundred times cozier and more beautiful than it ever was before. I never want to leave.

The way I ended up with this piece is kind of a funny story. I had been on the lookout for something nice, not too expensive, most likely used, for quite a while. Then, this past week, I decided to set out and finally hunt one down. I went to a couple of thrift shops and saw a few possible candidates, but nothing really took me. Then on Tuesday, I went to ReStore, the Habitat For Humanity store in Charlestown. As I surveyed a large cluster of various furnishings in one of the rooms, I spotted this beauty – an antique poplar executive desk.

I stood and admired it as it beckoned, running my hands across its imperfectly smooth top, my eyes drinking in its rich, dark cherry finish. The hand-painted gold stenciling shimmered and its gracefully worn luster gleamed in the bright, artificial light. I marveled at its unique craftsmanship and the outward curvature of the drawers on each side. There was a certain old clanging sound of the metal ring handles, which slightly resembled the fleur-de-lis, and one top drawer that could only be opened a certain way. Not only was this object aesthetically appealing, but it also had charm and character. It was clear that someone put a lot of love and care into this creation, when building it. It was easily the most breathtaking object in the room, and something I yearned to own.

But alas, the tag read two-hundred dollars, a price I simply could not justify paying. So, I opted for something more practical, something more in my price range. There were two other desks. The one I chose was an old (but not beautiful or antique), dark, wooden thing with drawers on one end and a chair space on the other. It was not very attractive and its finish did not gleam in the light. It had an awkward, shabby appearance and it was boring; probably made along with hundreds of others just like it. But it was thirty-nine dollars and it would do the trick. I decided I would probably paint it to brighten up its drabness.

I claimed the item by paying the thirty-nine dollars, but had to leave it there until I could get someone with a truck to help me bring it home. I then called my father and he agreed to help me with it the next day. On Wednesday, I never heard from him. I tried calling him but his phone was shut off. He had forgotten. Not wanting to bother him too much, I decided it wasn’t a big deal and we could probably get it on Saturday, instead.

Yesterday morning, Dad picked me up bright and early and we headed over to Charlestown to get my desk and finally bring it home. However, when we got there, the volunteers who were working could not find it. I helped them search high and low (literally) for a decently large piece of furniture that somehow seemed to have vanished into the howling cold wind. It was not in their outside storage unit, it was not in the place I had left it on Tuesday. It was simply not there. The workers determined that someone had torn off my SOLD sticker and bought it, taking it away that same day. It had happened on Thursday, the same day that I was seeing the number 886, indicating that a possession would be leaving my life shortly. At the time, I could not think of what I could possibly be losing, so I didn’t give it very much thought or concern.

So there I was, thirty-nine dollars short and no desk to take home. I looked across the room at the other desk I had squeamishly considered a few days before, again with reluctance. It was the same style as the one I had bought, the same price, but uglier and even cheaper looking. I was incredulously peeved. What kind of thieving asshole rips a SOLD sign off something and buys it for himself? I began to grow irate with the thought and frustrated with the charity organization’s flawed, disorganized system. But as I looked around the room again, an opportunity revealed itself.

I stood before the gorgeous executive desk, the one I longed for, but subconsciously believed I didn’t deserve. I was suddenly filled with a sense that someone or something wanted me to have it, that it was meant to be mine. It seemed this odd situation had been set up and orchestrated by a higher power for me to have something better and to understand that I was worthy of it. I was dazzled by this plan, listening closely to the faint whisper that told me to take what I really wanted.

I asked if I could have the executive for one-fifty, since they screwed up and lost my purchase. Soon after, I wished that I had started lower, because the woman took my offer without hesitation. Needless to say, I am not a very savvy haggler. I suppose one thing I learned was that I should practice the skill a bit more in the future. But the more noteworthy conclusion here was that I allowed myself to have what I desired, rather than settling. Plus, I still got it for less than I would have, had I decided to buy it in the first place. A rational mind would label this type of occurrence a fluke, but I choose to call it something else.

I often see the number 411 in my travels, and it’s become a personal favorite of mine. Part of its message is, “don’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” and “your angels want you to know that you deserve the very best.” The first part is the one that always resonates with me the most, and the second is one that I have come to notice and understand a little more with time. I saw that number quite a few times, as well, on Thursday and it now makes perfect sense. For a moment, just after gifting myself with this treasure, I habitually dosed myself with guilt for spending as much money as I did. After all, it was cash that could have been spent on groceries or something else that my family would need. But the guilt subsided as soon as I saw how much this artfully crafted object brightens up my home. It brings me joy and pleasure, which in my opinion is worth every penny. There will be more money.

Further as I go, I learn that the whole point of life is to enjoy it, and I think we all should finally give ourselves the permission to do so. I believe as humans, our true mission here is to live peacefully and blissfully, not to simply “get by.” Money is a tool, a means to get things that you want and need – things to enjoy. I have faith that everything my family and I need will always be provided, and that trust continues to grow stronger with each one of these magical little happenings. The more evidence I see of my thoughts shaping and molding my reality, the more I believe that abundance and prosperity will always flow freely into my life, simply because I allow it. If I hadn’t acted on that feeling, I know I would have regretted it. I would have been unsatisfied with the original purchase, and perhaps, as a result, I would have been less productive. Eventually, I would have searched for another desk like this and may not have ever found it. Instead, I now get to sit here every day, in my bedroom, in front of the bright, sunny window and write in pleasure. I can’t wait to see all of the things I will create in the future, while using this beautiful gift. I am incredibly thankful for this blessing, and perhaps an even better reward is the knowledge that I deserve it.


Snow’s Quiet Contemplation

Life has a funny way of motivating and inspiring; most times, only if you’re still enough, will you hear the message. If you can come away enough from yourself, in all your fears and anxieties, all of your pride and your beliefs, all of your pain and – ironically – your questions, you will find the answers. I’m discovering more and more that it’s about letting go and trusting the process, having faith that the path is indeed leading you out of the dark. Many times, or perhaps even all the time, compassion and forgiveness is the quicker route to not only outer peace, but inner as well.

Lately, I’ve been asking a question of social equilibrium: what is the best way to go about honoring oneself by speaking the truth and yet somehow still keeping the peace, when the truth is bound to do some damage? When you’re biting your tongue hard enough to draw blood, just to avoid a conflict, yet you feel that something should be said, how do you stop hurting yourself without hurting someone else? In times when you feel as if one word spoken will lead to an inevitable eruption of thoughts, feelings and truths that have been bottled up too long, what is the next step? The pressure builds and builds to the point where you know the force behind that one uttered remark could lead to something quite possibly catastrophic, yet you feel it’s bound to happen eventually. For days, I’ve been trying to ease the pressure of a volcano that’s ready to spew hot lava. It wants to erupt. It needs to. But if that happens, it’s going to burn some people.

I’ve had some difficulties at work this week. My hours (which were few to begin) were cut, unexpectedly and, I felt, unfairly. I responded to this abrupt and unfortunate notice with rage – hot, fiery, teary rage that burned through my chest and shoulders, coursing all through my boiling blood, making my legs feel like gummy sticks of taffy. I kept my reaction mostly to myself, although I still handled the situation poorly by letting my ego speak for me. I later started to regret some of the things I said and the way I behaved, although I still haven’t even said the half of it. I’ve decided to be forgiving and understanding about what happened, yet my problem has still not been resolved and at the moment, there is no clear solution. Almost immediately after receiving the news, I knew it was all happening for the higher good, yet the uncertainty and the feelings of powerlessness and even betrayal seemed greater than that inner knowing, and they took over. Days later, I’m more at peace with the situation, yet I’m still not sure what I’m supposed to do next. There are still unsaid thoughts that I’ve been holding back for a long time. Do they really need to be said? And if so, how should they be delivered?

This challenging situation is certainly pushing me in the direction that I want to go, that is one thing I am sure of. I don’t want to be a bartender for the rest of my life, and I have been slowly, steadily toiling away at my long-held dream. I suppose this is meant to be a nudge to get me moving at a better pace. However, I’m still faltering at my next course of action. I have a few options to weigh and some heavy decisions to make, which is all stirring up my anxiety. There is that deep, lingering lack of self-belief that I still haven’t kicked. Hello again, Doubt, my old friend. I see you still haven’t gone and fucked yourself, yet. Maybe I should be nicer to you.

There is so much oscillation and unpredictability within me at the moment, that my head is starting to spin. The oddest feeling of all, however, is this sense of comfort in the discomfort. The unfamiliarity and the uncertainty of something new can be nothing short of terrifying at times, and yet I’m wise enough to know that where there is discomfort, there is change. By this stage in my life, I’ve learned well enough that change is nothing to be feared and more often than not, when allowed, it can lead to beautiful things. And right now, that’s about all I know.


I curiously peered at the girl who held your hand
She was older, thinner, prettier
She had charm and grace
And I was just the little girl next door

I remember walking home with you
My shirt was tight on my chest
I wanted you to notice
That I would one day soon have breasts

I stood there on the road’s edge that day
He told me you’d done the deed
My reaction was peculiar
I felt like I’d somehow been left out

Another time you mentioned your attraction to another
I scoffed at your remark
I called that girl a ditz
What’s there to even like about her?

I was fifteen and at a dance with friends
Saw you come walking in
With that dark-eyed brunette
Your eyes met mine, then I walked far away

After that, you brought another one around
She was blonde and beautiful
I took a liking to her
But some deep part of me wished that I was her

Soon I realized being me was good enough
You kissed me in the water
How did I not realize
That world had been there all along

My whole world has changed ever since
I’m torn up inside
You still aren’t mine
That dark-eyed brunette just won’t quit

Your eyes met mine, then I walked far away
Again and again and again
What is this all about?
You’re supposed to be dancing with me

“Don’t break the chain.”

One day, about exactly two years ago, when I had just recently begun blogging (dabbling is probably a better description, actually) on WordPress, while browsing through different pieces and writing tips, I came across a piece about Jerry Seinfeld. The title of the piece was a quote of his, which was, “don’t break the chain.” He had said it during an interview when speaking about keeping his writing fresh and generating new material. His tip was simple, but it stuck with me, even through my long, horrid dry spell when I wasn’t producing much of anything.

This particular method involved nothing more than a wall calendar and a pen or a marker. He claimed that every day that he spent writing was marked on the calendar with a big X. As each X is connected, side by side, it forms something resembling a chain on the calendar. It serves as a reminder to yourself for the work you have done and it gives you an incentive to keep on going with it. Along with the pat on the back you can give yourself after each day of work you put in, you also get to see how long you can make your chain. Obviously, if you miss or skip a day, your chain will surely be broken (assuming you’re being honest with yourself) and you’ll have to start a new one all over again.

Though I haven’t yet started drawing links for my chain, at least physically, I’ve made a commitment and I’ve been putting in the time. I’m forming a habit. So even though I’m exhausted from the long, busy day I had at work today, the bedtime war I just had with my child and all the reading and writing I did last night, I still showed up. I thought perhaps I should be continuing my thought on the last piece I started two nights ago and was working on last night, but I’m honestly too tired to think so in depth at the moment. But I’m here, at least. I’m here because I can’t break the chain!

I just had a proud parenting moment. I have plenty of proud mommy moments, multiple times on a daily basis, because Astrid is nothing short of amazing. However, what I find is a little rarer are the times where I feel proud of me for the mother I am. A few nights ago, I had a “bad mommy” moment, where I felt I was doing it all wrong and I was about to lose my mind. She’s a tough one, my Astrid. She’s a really sweet, adorable, well-behaved kid, but when she gets into a particular mood, she can really grind you down. So tonight, as I watched her finally drift off to sleep, I felt accomplished and good about myself, because there was nary a shred of self-doubt.

Sitting by her bed, rubbing her back, I gazed at my sweet little monster, as her breath became rhythmic and her mouth, no longer breathing fire, finally became silent. Ahh. It only took an hour and a half from bedtime to get to this point. On Tuesday, it was almost four hours. Progress! We had to convert her crib into a toddler bed on Wednesday, because she climbed (and fell) out of it during her tearful fit of rage early that morning (she fell asleep around Eleven PM after screaming bloody murder for hours and then woke up again around Four AM to pick up where she left off). This was the second time she climbed out of the crib. The first time was about a month ago and I’m honestly shocked that it took so long for her to do it again. So it was definitely time to make the change.

The first night in the “big girl bed” was surprisingly easy, last night was so-so, but tonight, she was absolutely not having it. Long story short, for almost two hours, I played the game of coaxing, bribing, and walking a thrashing toddler back to her bed over and over again, only to have her angrily spring back up and out the door after me for another go-round. It wasn’t pretty. Her screams are loud, shrill and violent. To me, she sounds sort of like those virus-infected things from the movie I Am Legend, and it’s almost just as frightening. Each time I picked her up to bring her back to bed, she tried to slither through my hold like a snake. When that didn’t work, she would kick, shriek and growl in her high-pitched voice, like some kind of rabid, wild animal. You would think, by her reaction, that I was bringing her to her death.

I say it all the time, but I honestly think she is the most stubborn, willful child I have ever known. She doesn’t put up with any crap, that’s for sure. If she doesn’t agree with something, she will be sure to let you know. For me, this is a double-edged sword. On the one side, I’m thrilled. I couldn’t be happier to have a daughter who is strong-willed and determined. It’s a beautiful thing. On the other side, however, I see that I really have my work cut out for me. I find myself getting into some serious power struggles with her and she isn’t even two years old. I can only imagine what awaits me fourteen years from now. I suppose it will all be in how I handle the situation. Tonight, I stayed calm and cool, at least with her, anyway.

The other difficult part in these situations is working together with John. It’s not that we don’t work well together, but as every parent knows, this job ain’t easy! So when I try to implement a technique that I’ve read about, when researching the subject (which he rarely does), and he does something to contradict what I’m doing, I get frustrated and raise my voice at him. Then, not only is our daughter throwing the most stress-inducing, blood pressure-raising, ear-splitting tantrum, but now he and I are arguing on top of it. I guess we need to get on the same page. That’s a topic for another discussion, though.

What’s important is that everybody’s doing fine. We get through it, and that’s all that matters. For me, lately, it’s all about the small victories. Small things add up to great things and there have been a lot of these little wins lately. I’ve really been making an effort to recognize and appreciate them and the more I do it, the more frequently they come.

After the battle was over tonight, I made sure to be still for a moment and take it all in. My sleeping daughter, breathing peacefully in her bed, surrounded by her stuffed animal friends, their kind, familiar faces, the glow of the nightlight, the artwork hanging on the walls, even the walls themselves. I took it all in and remembered a time when these things were not all here, save for the walls. The carpet too, I guess. This room has been through a major transformation in our time in this apartment. This room used to be our weed-smoking room. Our junk room. The place where we put all of our stuff. It was also, in all fairness, my music room, but I wasn’t really doing too much of that, so it was more like the room that held my music and instruments. I used to believe that if we were to ever have a kid, we would have to move, because we wouldn’t have any place to put all of our things if we took them out of their room. What the hell was I thinking? No matter, because not long after, I discovered my true priorities.

It’s almost hard to believe that two years ago, I was setting that room up, anticipating a baby shower, eager to find a place for all the new, more meaningful items we would receive. Two years. It’s been a wild ride since then, to say the least. I knew then that my life would soon be changing for the better, but I had no idea just how good it would be. I had not the slightest inkling that the change would lead me to a complete personal transformation. I guess this particular chain of events was set a little before Astrid came along, but I know in my heart that I would not be in this beautiful reality without her. It’s truly incredible what she has done for me.

So I’ll take the hard nights of disobedience and never-ending tantrums, the times when she breaks something of mine or poops on the carpet while potty training. I’ll even take the crazy moments when I feel like I’m unraveling and don’t know what to do with her or myself. When I look closely, I find that these moments always point the way to a better alternative. They point the way to a better me. They always give me an opportunity to learn something about myself and to grow. Most importantly, they always provide me with a little extra appreciation for those quiet, beautiful moments.


via Daily Prompt: Fragile

You’ve failed me yet again. You’ve betrayed my trust and abandoned me (emotionally, that is) just like the hundreds of other times before. I’d like to know how many times there were that I don’t even remember. Things have really been looking up for me…until this. Something that I wasn’t even involved in, yet you’ve successfully dragged me right in, yet again. So at the moment, as I pick myself up from the dirt that you shoved me into, I’m trying to figure out why this is happening. Situations like this don’t just come up for no good reason. There’s something I’m supposed to find here. I was having a fantastic day, right up until the moment all of this went down, completely knocking me off my feet. All I really thought about all day was how well things have been going for me. Not to mention, for a while now, I’ve thought that you and I were fine, but apparently there are still unresolved issues, damages that need to be re-examined. Because here we are once more.

I feel like a child again. I remember this feeling. Yes, it’s quite familiar, actually. You’ve reduced me, from a grown woman, right back down to a wounded little girl; crying, frightened, beyond confused and frustrated, severely disappointed and wondering, “what did I do?” This is, for me, the mother of all triggers, literally. You’ve never wanted to hear what I’ve had to say. As a matter of fact, you’ve never wanted to hear what anyone has to say, unless it fits in with your closed-minded and jaded viewpoint. When are you going to learn that you can’t live this way and be happy at the same time? That to be in harmony with others, you sometimes have to bend a little or just agree to disagree? Of course, you can assert your will, in fact, you should! But you don’t always need to be right, you don’t always need to scream your opinion and argue with people, with hands cupped over your ears. When are you going to lay down your weapons and trust someone? Anyone? When are you going to trust me or realize that I’m not trying to threaten you or hurt you? Our beliefs may differ, but that shouldn’t matter. It does with you, though. You’ve made it perfectly clear.

I’m sorry that I don’t fit the mold of who you want me to be. Heather and Andrew have never disrupted the status quo, so I guess they’re “good,” and worthy of your love. But it’s a totally different story with me. It always has been. Mommy, if I vote for Donald Trump, will you tell me that I’m good? How about if I tell you that I really don’t care about the environment, after all? (Apparently, my love of nature and concern for the Earth are bothersome to you. Yeah, hearing that was a new low. I can’t say I ever imagined I would be mocked and ridiculed by my own mother for something that I genuinely care about.) Will you love me if I decide to go back to being depressed and not following my dreams? Maybe I should just do that. Maybe then, I will finally make you proud and be deserving of your love.

All because my beliefs sometimes challenge yours, because I speak up about who I am and because I don’t try to be a carbon copy of you, you can’t love me? Since I choose to be happy, you can’t accept me? Oh, so now you don’t want me calling you anymore? Hey, thanks, ma. Well, I’m sorry, but as much as that hurts me, I will never stop being who I am, no matter what. Not only do I have absolutely no desire to do so, but I really couldn’t, even if I tried. And if need be, I can survive – hell, I can THRIVE – with or without you in my life.

That’s not what I want, though. I’ve never wanted this tension, this animosity or this downright hatred from you. For longer than I can remember, I’ve been desperately trying to figure out why it even exists, or what I can do differently to change it, but for the life of me, I can’t. Is this ever going to change? Must we live like this forever? Or is the whole point of this that I’m supposed to just walk away from you? You don’t seem like you’d mind. At least, that’s what I gather from the horrible things that you’ve said to me. Honestly, I don’t know how much more of this abuse I can take from you. I don’t know how much longer I’m supposed to put up with this hell before I decide that it’s nothing more than a self-destructive habit or an addiction that I need to kick. Is that what my relationship with my own mother is? If so, that’s pretty fucked up. But every time you hurt me, I forgive you again and just keep going back for more. Maybe I should just cut my losses, and the cord, as well. You seem pretty adamant that you’re never going to change your stubborn, antagonistic ways, so what am I supposed to do here? I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. Would you even care if you lost me? Mom, if I never showed up at your door again, would it faze you in the least? And what about Astrid? Do you really want to lose your sweet grandbaby? Over this – something you’ve conjured up in your delusional mind? Please help me understand. I’m begging you. I’m desperately trying to help you, but no matter how loud I speak, you just don’t hear me. What do you want me to do?

“Only Love Can Be Both Heaven and Hell”

I feel like I’m drowning today. Maybe it’s the rain falling from the sky or maybe it’s something more complex than that. I’m missing you today. I’m feeling disconnected, cut off from you. That quickening in my heart is still somewhat there; that warm and wonderful sensation still spreads all through my chest at times, but it is fleeting. Things have been both beautiful and very painful lately. I’ve all but shut myself down in the past week or so because I don’t really know what else to do at this point. I’m at an emotional stalemate and I’m trying to view things from a different angle, but I’ve had very little luck thus far. I’m feeling very perplexed and the fear is still lingering, although I will say it has lessened considerably. I know this is just another test, another bump in the road that I will soon be looking back on all the wiser, but at this moment, my heart is in turmoil. I just want to go home.

This feeling of disquiet is mostly due to frustration. I guess I’m wondering why it hasn’t gotten much easier at this point, because I really thought it would. I said the magic words. I spoke my truth! Finally, after years of holding it in, of hiding my true feelings, I did it. And yet, I’m still stuck. I envisioned that moment many times in my mind for months, if not longer, and it seemed like it would be so grand and so liberating. I knew it would hurt, but I thought I would feel free when it was done. That wasn’t the feeling I got at all. In fact, it mostly just felt like pain. And even worse, my words fell on deaf ears. I said what I needed to say, yet he’s still here, acting like it never happened at all, coaxing me with love and affection. And I’m a little ashamed to say that I’ve eaten it right up. I guess I’m really not living my truth yet, because I’m still going right along with this charade. I don’t want to hurt him more. I want to take his pain away. So here I am, still putting myself second. Still making the same error that I thought I’d corrected. It’s looking like I have to do it all over again. That first day, I really thought it was over. My world came crashing down and I was in complete and utter shock. Yet, here we are, still kickin’, like we didn’t miss a beat.

Then, there’s Astrid. Our darling little girl. She gets so happy when she sees her mommy and daddy in an embrace, she usually joins in. This is, by far, the hardest part. I am trying my hardest to figure out how to do this without splitting up our family. There must be a way. She’s far too smart not to catch on to what is happening, and she speaks so well now that she’s saying sentences. She is very good at verbally expressing herself, especially for a child of a year and a half. If he leaves the house, it will surely break my heart every time she asks where he is. Of course, she will still see him, but my fear mostly lies in the fact that he won’t want to be around me. My wish is to remain a family, spending plenty of time together, but he doesn’t reflect those desires whenever we speak of a potential separation. It kills me to even imagine dividing her time, not to mention, I feel she is still too young to spend extended periods of time away from me. We have a very strong bond and she needs me more than anyone else. Worrying is doing me no good, and I’m sure he will eventually come around to this idea, but this doesn’t make it any easier right now. Every day, I have prayed for a solution. I know it’s there, and others have miraculously appeared before me in the recent past, but right now, I don’t see it.

Things are certainly not getting any easier, but I will persevere nonetheless. I have no other choice, after all and I wouldn’t really have it any other way. Solutions will come, I know, and then I will have to reopen the wound all over again. I suppose that’s all part of my job here, to wake him up and help him to acknowledge his pain, so that he can mend it himself. He’s quite good at avoiding it, probably even better than I was when I was in that mentality. He is completely numb, actually, to every bit of heartbreak he feels, and I suppose I’ve been enabling it, rather than helping him deal with it. I’ve been doing the opposite of what I’m meant to do. Perhaps that’s the lesson, here. Perhaps that’s why I’m still stuck in this conundrum. Maybe that’s the part of the picture that I haven’t been seeing. I guess I have to do with him what you did with me; make him bleed. If I don’t, he will most likely choose to continue living this lie, willingly ignoring the truth, depending on me for love and self-worth. I told him I can’t do the co-dependent relationship anymore, but I don’t think he understood, because he is still very much immersed in it. Yes, I’m going to have to hurt him. But first, I’m going to have to learn how to forgive myself for it.


The trees are green again
And the future is now bright
Yes, there is an end in sight
But God, I need a drink
Haven’t had enough time to think
The summer calls to me
Like a childhood dream
But something’s missing in between
A piece of the puzzle I can’t find
Hidden somewhere in my mind
Just having a low day
Tomorrow I’ll find a different way
The crows, they speak to me
They’re calling to my ears
Telling me to release my fears
But I just realized I’m so lonely
I’m aching for my one and only
Just having a low day
Tomorrow I’ll find a different way
Having a low day
So to my angels I pray
In this beautiful month of May


I feel it creep up in my mind
I feel it right underneath my skin
Feel the notes under my fingers
Hear it sing out through my soul
It’s like it never even left
Yet like it was lifetimes ago
Sometimes it’s like it was written by
Someone I don’t even know
You and I were different people
You and I were young
I feel like maybe now we’re strangers
Like it hasn’t even begun
Where will you be when my heart is free?
Will you still be waiting there?
I can’t see it but I feel it coming
There’s just something in the air
I lost the time and I lost my mind
But maybe those two are the same
Your face in a dream, your gaze across the room
Those are all I have to claim


I was always there for her and we sure had some good times
Since the ripe, young age of sixteen
Guess I would have believed anything
But she somehow slipped by after all this time
How long it took me to realize
She’s nothing but a stupid, psycho girl

She’s a sneaky little thing, got in with some of my best friends
At first, I thought that it was fine
Who am I to say what’s yours is mine?
But lie after lie, I was deceived
How much more foolish could I be
Always looking for that better side

Psycho girl, watch out for her she’s no good
Psycho girl, oh no, she ain’t misunderstood
Psycho girl, she’ll sell you at the drop of a dime
Oh you conniving, nasty girl
Fuck you, you ain’t no friend of mine

I brought her around, let her get close with my family
Now they think that she’s so nice
“Oh that girl she’s just so funny”
But oh no, they just don’t see
That beneath that veil of crazy
There’s a whole lot more psycho underneath

And there is just one person in this whole wide world
Who just cannot be my friend
I thought she knew not to get close
But oh, little did I know
She was reciting my hopes and fears
And she was spewing lies for many years

Psycho girl, run if she’s coming your way
Psycho girl, don’t confide or you will pay
Psycho girl, without her you’ll be just fine
Oh you pathetic, selfish girl
Fuck you, you ain’t no friend of mine

Now she’s near the one I love almost every day
Defiling the atmosphere with toxic energy
Reeking of Marlboros and low self-esteem
Guess I’ll have to bide my time some more
In hopes that he can see
The treachery she has bestowed upon me

Devoid of real emotion and empathy
Oh you crazy, cold-hearted bitch
You’re just too blind and dumb to see
That I was your only friend
I would have stuck by till the end
But you had to go and betray me

Psycho girl, what did your father do to you
Psycho girl, that made you so jaded and cruel?
Psycho girl, don’t you dare ever drop a line
You sociopathic girl
Fuck you, you ain’t no friend of mine


Sitting under the starlight
Blocking out all the noise
I close my eyes and see your face
I wrap my arms around you
I hold you so close
Trying to remind myself that you’re still here
Trying to remind you that I’m still here

We lost a star last night
Now that star’s in the sky
Though I didn’t really know him
I’m still asking why
Got another dose of doubt
When I didn’t hear from you
I’ve just got to let it go
And to myself be true

There is goodness all around me
To fill this hole I still feel
This is something I must learn
I watch my angel sleep
So warm in her bed
I want to give her all the love I have
Want to give you all the love I have

We lost a star last night
Now that star’s in the sky
Though I didn’t really know him
I’m still asking why
I think of how I’m feeling
Wonder if you’re feeling the same
Wonder if you can still hear me
When I’m calling your name

So great, so grand and powerful
Could no longer take the pressure
Collapsing beneath the weight of it all
Blew up in a spectacular way that all the world could see
Sending currents and vibrations all around me

We lost a star last night
Now a Black Star in the sky
Though I didn’t really know him
I’m still asking why
Close my eyes a little while
And again I see your face
This world is such a big, small
Frighteningly marvelous, wonderful place