tiffany nicole.

amends;

To the old lady on the bus.
You sat down next to me and mumbled something. I couldn’t make it out because I was listening to Mumford and Sons on my Ipod. But I still knew you said something in my general direction. Normally, I’d have taken my earbuds out and started a conversation with you. I’m a friendly girl, I like to talk to strangers. But today, today was different..

I haven’t felt like myself all day. Maybe it’s because it was day six in a row of 6am-230pm shifts at work and I’m just not used to that schedule anymore. Maybe it’s because I’ve been going to bed at 1am and waking up at 4am. Maybe it’s because I’m juggling too many things right now. Maybe it’s simply because I haven’t taken time to just be. Whatever it might be, I just knew today just was not my day.

I should have talked to you. I know, I should have. You seemed like a nice lady with a smile that could warm up even the darkest of places. Maybe you could have given me some hope, some comfort. But instead, I just kept staring out at the grey Portland sky. Sometimes I shut down because it just seems easier. I’m a distant person, I’m bad at letting people in. I’m also bad at letting myself admit that I need people. Maybe that’s part of the reason why I’ve struggled finding a community out here on the west coast.

I kept trying to convince myself to get outside of my box and talk to you. But I didn’t. I just kept my little mouth shut. Then you pulled out a roller ball of perfume. I rolled my eyes because too often public transportation is over-saturated with perfumes that irritate my sinuses. I’m sorry for doing that. It was rude of me. A few short minutes later, you started rubbing your hands together. I can only imagine it’s some sort of nervous tick you developed over the years. I know how that is. I do it too. Where did you pick it up from? I picked it up from my grandma. She always did that when she walked into a tense situation. I think it was her way of calming herself, reminding herself of the potential damage her impulsive words and actions could bring about. Then I had to hold back the tears.

It’s been almost two years since I lost my grandma. And to be honest, I never really grieved that loss the way I have grieved other deaths. Maybe I have been in denial for these two years, thinking that she is just off on some fabulous vacation. I’m not really sure what I’ve thought. But I do know: I’ve missed talking to her, gaining wisdom from her. She is the one person that fully developed my map and definition of love. Losing her was by far one of the worst things I have gone through to date. No one else really understood me, or tried to understand me, like she did. She was the phone call once a week checking up on me. She’d talk for hours, forgetting that she had other things to do that day. That is how involved with people’s stories she became. I loved that about her.

I had a really crappy day today. And the one thing I wanted to do most of all was go home and call my Oma (grandma in German). I wanted to tell her about how stressed I’ve been feeling lately. I wanted her to help me feel less alone. She was always good at that. But no, no such phone call will be had.

Sitting next to you, reminded me of just that. And that is why I ignored you. That is why I was so distant. Sometimes it’s easier to be closed off than actually deal with the pain. But in my 25 year old wisdom now, I know that is not the way to heal. So this is why I am writing a letter to you now. To apologize. To grieve. To find solace. And to heal.

I hope you don’t hold this against me.

Sincerely, tiffany.

moving on.

you told me that you had to go,
it’s only been a few weeks
but a part of me already knows
what the other part of me
never wants to say aloud.

i can already feel the cracks forming
the broken bits of a story
that will never be.
maybe it’s too soon to say,
but you wrote that song for me
and right then i knew,
i never wanted to lose you.

these silly jokes and
the way you reach
your hand for mine
these are the things i’ll miss the most

i know it’s too soon to say
and we should just
let it fade away

but i don’t think
i’ve got the strength
to let this slip right on by.
i don’t think
i’ve got it within me
to look you in the eye,
wish you well
and tell you goodbye.

//

I am an OCD person, so I am continuously reorganizing, rearranging and cleaning things. Today was no different. I decided to tackle organizing all of the unsorted files on my computer. The goal was to make them more streamlined and easier to find.

This little gem appeared as one of the many “Untitled Documents” I had in my “I’m a writer, maybe” folder. I read each line, remembering exactly how I felt when I actually wrote it. I wrote this about a boy a little less than a year ago, after a rather unfortunate sequence of events that led to that relationship going splitsville.

I remember how it all started. I was afraid, and sheltered myself off from this person. Vulnerability, at the time, seemed like such a weakness. Heaven forbid I leave myself open to getting hurt! And once I swallowed my pride and started letting him in, a wedge was driven between us. It wasn’t anybody’s fault per se, just two lives going down two very different roads.

Needless to say, I was feeling obliterated. I remember feeling completely helpless, swearing off love in all of its forms. I focused on my new job transfer and the new friendships I was cultivating through it. I couldn’t see it then, but everything was falling into place. Definitely not perfectly and definitely not the way I had expected, but sure enough, things worked out for the best.

It’s cliche to say, but I think Marilyn Monroe had it right when she said, “Good things have to fall apart so better things can come together.” I am still in the middle of better things coming together and I’m sure he is as well, but isn’t that what our twenties (and life in general) is all about? I believe so.

The pursuit of adventure!
The pursuit of happiness!

So, last words to be said on this subject:
Baby, just call me an adventurer, addicted to that endless, seamless sky.
There’s still a lot of road left in these tired bones.