A Source from Which the Crumbs are Crumbing.

Brace yourselves for the rambles from a sick-heads' head:


I feel crummy. At first I was going to use a different word to describe my current state of self. "Crummy" strikes me as a rather soft and squishy cake-like word. But, at the same time, I realize soft and squishy cakes can also be crumbling, and falling apart - this later thought more accuracy describes my physical and mental state as of now; falling apart. Crumb-like. Little morsels of my being are currently scattering every which way...and the sad part is...I'm not sure why.

My eyes are tearing. Perhaps, because I'm sick and they're watering. Maybe it's because, for some reason, the thought of me being cake-like is not very pleasant to my emotional state. (Heck, I don't even LIKE cake that much.) Who knows. All I know is that these tears, for some strange reason...sharpen my vision when I look through them. This is rather odd to me. One would think that tears would blur the vision...hmm...perhaps the light rays are bending just right off of the tiny moisture droplets within my eye-sockets...enhancing...

Forget it. I need to not delve any deeper into that train of thought. Back to cake. Back to life...

I'm crumbling. God. I need to pull myself together. Just with typing that word, "crumbling"...more  salty water droplets appeared into my eyes. It's a good thing the only others who can see me right now, are my stuffed owls and teddy bears. (And, they don't judge me, thankyouverymuch) I'm in a emotionally depleted state...and my hair looks like that of a scarecrows. Perhaps I should rummage around in it, for it looks large enough to be hiding something inside its' gigantic hair knot innards... *rummage* *rummage* *rummage*

I keep getting side tracked, back to cake. I'll comb my hair later. (PS. In case you were wondering, I found nothing inside.)

I feel like I'm falling apart. At 21 years old, I'm not sure that's a healthy thing. In fact, I know that's not a healthy thing. The worst part is, I'm not sure why I feel like I'm falling apart. By all worldly standards, I'm doing pretty well. I live in one of the wealthiest cities in the nation, I have a steady job (and, for that matter, health insurance for the first time! Woot!), a place to lay my head at night, a wonderful and supportive family...and yet...

Crumbs.

You know what I think it comes down to? I think...I'm lonely.

Los Angeles, is one of the busiest cities in the United States. Its population is diverse, and its' sub-cultures thriving with eclectic individuals. You would think after a year and a half of living here, I would have found my niche, my groove, my clan, my "peeps." (Did I really just say...peeps?) Some people think I'm an extrovert. And, I think at one point, I may have agreed with those people. However, these days...I'm much more timid in my approach to life. I'm trying to first listen, then speak. I spend more time inside baking banana bread, than I do outside partying with the rest of the 21 year olds. In fact, come to think of it, I don't really "party" at all. (Ha. Lame.) Instead, I like good books, I appreciate (maybe a tad more than I should) a nom nom cup of tea. I enjoy painting stupid robots and I really, really, really like deep conversation. The kind where you dig into each others bones, pull out the marrow and examine it under a conversational microscope. Intrusive? Perhaps. Kindred-spirit creating? Most definitely.

In a culture that's so predominantly shallow, I often feel lost here...and sorely unfulfilled. Sometimes, like tonight, heavy waves of emotion wash over me...nearly suffocating the leedle baby spirit flame that flickers within my soul. And when these waves come, the deep longing, and pull within my heart...is...to run. Who knows where I'd run to. I mean, the fact of the matter is, I cannot run anywhere. Responsibilities weigh me down, like a brick strapped to my feet. I feel (and perhaps I shouldn't, but I do) that I need to stay. That I have to stay. That, for Pete's sake, I've run too much already.

Even if I could run though, I'm not sure that I would. For, I know myself well enough by now, that this stubborn heart of mine is prone to wander, and very prone to leave behind. I often live in the mindset of "what's next?" and with one hand hanging onto a packed suitcase. Moreover, despite loving deep conversation, and feeling lonely, I'm really slow to open up and/or to feel as though I "need" people in MY life. It's probably the one thing that I dislike about myself the most. The fact that I'm a "developer" by trait ("Developer" was my top strength when I took the Strength-Quest test...you should totally look the test up). I LOVE to help people, I love to hear their problems and encourage them in their walk, but I very seldom open myself up to THEM to the point where I feel like if I left or if I ran...that I would miss them. Or, them, me. And, in the depths of my heart...this truly disgusts me. For several reasons, but the most being; with having this mindset, I've hurt a lot of dear friends. Relationships that I wish I could re-build, but don't even know where to start. And, up until a bit ago...never would have realized or admitted, that the end, or the "hurt" in those relationships was my fault. Ouch. Talk about a sucker-punch to the gut.

I don't want to live this way anymore. I think I'll always have some form of wander-lust that tugs at me from time to time...but, I want to need people. I want to miss people. I want to look around me FIRST, before I look in front of me to see "what's next." I want to settle down, I want to grow some roots, I want a family here. Spiritual sisters, brothers, mothers and fathers. I want to be intentional with my relationships and...I want to be a better friend.

And, you know what? If I was a better friend, if I was intentional with needing people, facilitating and nurturing relationships, I wouldn't be so lonely. I wouldn't be sitting here, on my bed, with misty eyes. Or perhaps I would, because I am sick. But, that's besides the point.

...sometimes writing is good for your soul. You start out pointing a finger at life and circumstances, and you quickly realize...you have three pointing back at you. *sigh* Well folks, now that my mind is officially depleted, and I have a source from which the crumbs are crumbing (hehe, crumbing, get it?) I'm going to go to bed. At 8:20pm. Yes, because I'm lame. (And, sick.)

Goodnight world, goodnight my friends. Thank you for reading my rambles.

Luffs and stuffs,

Marrow - Introductions

The murky air floated round the small, cramped coffee shop. Eclectic stories swirled round the atmosphere and lonely people often came to sit and live vicariously through them. Alone, she meandered in one Sunday afternoon and smiled. He saw her. She sat, and he approached. She was beautiful, so he thought. But, not in a remarkable way. In an unkempt, mysterious way, and he liked that.

She heard him aproaching, and in a brief moment of shy curiosity, she tucked a strand of her wild blonde hair behind her left ear. He was handsome. But, not in a remarkable way. His eyes shined with a mischievous glint, and...she liked that.

His feet shuffled near hers and stopped inches from her toes. He had nice taste in shoes. When she glanced up into his eyes, he asked her what her name was. She responded in two blinks "Marrow." His face crinkled into a confused grin. "Marrow?" he reiterated. She looked at him rather unimpressed "Yes. That is what I said, isn't it?" This girl was a feisty one, and...he liked that.

She felt a wave of embarrassment flush through her cheeks as he pulled up a chair and sat next to her with a soft *kerplunk.* His car keys jingled softly in his pocket, and the chair squeaked under his shifting weight. She smiled, thinking to herself, how unfortunately-hilarious it would be if the seat gave away under him. He saw her smile and inquired on it's origin: "What? Did I do something funny?" Stifling her grin, she shook her head gently back and forth "No, no...I just...never mind."  "Please don't stop." He said, his lips moving softly. "Stop what?" She asked him confused. "Smiling, Marrow. Please don't stop smiling."

She, although taken-aback at his upfrontness, couldn't help but feel her lips curving upwards again. Damn it. How'd he do that? She looked down at the book in her lap, and as she did, the hair she had tucked behind her ear, fell in front of her blue eyes.

What was her story? He wondered to himself. She seemed so strong, and yet so fragile at the same time. It had been a long time since he was this interested in talking to a complete stranger. Well, come to think of it, she didn't feel much like a stranger to him. Curiously, her heart seemed close to his, and that was rather confusing, and yet, very exciting at the same time.

"Marrow, tell me, I've never seen you here before, do you come often?" Her eyes lifted up from her book, and she glanced into his, searching for the answer to his inquiries. "I, don't often come...no." She responded quietly. "I guess, I just wanted an adventure this afternoon. I'm simply passing through town..." "Alone?" he asked nonchalantly, sipping at his frothy drink of sorts.

She watched his Adams Apple bob up and down as he sucked the warm liquid down his throat. It was semi-hypnotic. Bob. bob. bob. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. She snapped out of it. Why'd he want to know so much about her anyways? First her name, the reason for coming to a coffee shop on a regular Sunday afternoon..."Can't a girl have an adventure on her own?" She said shutting the book in her lap with a fierce *Thump.* He jumped. That book slamming was probably louder than she realized, for, everyone in the coffee shop had gone quiet, and all eyes shifted their gaze onto them. "My dear Marrow, it looks like you've caused a bit of a scene" he whispered playfully, leaning in close enough to smell the faint vanilla scent she wore on her collar bone. She had had enough, he was far too intrusive, and she wanted nothing but to get away from his sparkling eyes, attractive smile and inquiring questions. She was used to being anonymous, and he wanted to make senses out of the transparency she'd worked so long to gain. At first she was curious about him, but now...well, she'd better get away before he learned too much.


She stood up, her flowered dress slightly wrinkled at the edges swayed back and forth at the sudden jolt. He liked her legs. The swaying dress brought attention to them, and he couldn't help but notice. She was thin, but her legs were filled with strength and grace, perhaps she was a dancer? "It was interesting meeting you, Mr..." She realized he knew her name, but she hadn't though to ask his. "Call me Jack." He said standing up next to her. He was tall. Much taller than she had expected. Granted, she only stood 5'5 inches, so few men seemed short to her. In attempts to offer a casual goodbye-handshake, she stuck her small hand out towards his torso. He looked at her petite hand, smiled to himself and firmly clasped his fingers round her hand. She attempted to shake his hand, which was kind of cute, but he simply grasped her hand harder...and firmly lead her out of the coffee shop. "What are you doing!" She shouted beating her book against his chest. "I'd like to get to know you Marrow, I'd like to spend some time with you if you don't mind." He said, seemingly unfazed by the book continuously thumping against his pectoral region.


He was insane. She did mind! "I do mind, Jack!" Her face was going to end up on a milk carton, she just knew it. Why'd she even go into that stupid coffee shop in the first place? "Well, good. I'm glad you mind, I like girls with opinions. Now, if you'd please stop hitting me, I'd like to inquire on your palate?" His grasp loosened a bit and she pulled away from him, her fingers escaping from his. She was free. She could run. So, why did her feet stay put? She clutched her hands together, and tried to sort through the thought-tornado circling in her mind. "Let's have an adventure, Marrow." His eyes did that stupid shimmer thing again, and her feet sunk deeper into the earth. "I don't do this, ever, Marrow. I'm not crazy, I just know when I see a girl with a good story...I want to read her." Her little forehead wrinkled in protest, but her pursed lips didn't. He was making headway, but he knew she was still unsure. He had to be careful. Patient.

His eyes shifted towards the sky, and his eyebrows shot upwards, rethinking his recent statement "I'm sorry...read her...that sounded kind of weird..." He said apologetically "Yeah it did." She said abruptly, putting her hands on her hips. "You won't be doing any reading this afternoon, Jack. But, I am hungry. So...let's go get a sandwich. Apparently my palate is fond of them." And with a sarcastic *humph* she turned and marched towards the little deli shop on the corner of 4th and Main. He watched her tangled hair bob up and down for a bit and then he shook his head laughing to himself. She was a mystery, straight to the core...straight to the marrow of her wounded soul.

...And, he liked that.
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