Broken Hearted Runner

Dear Vance Joy, I would really appreciate it if you would stop writing songs about my life. I'm aware that I've given you, Adele, and everyone else in the music industry some good material. But seriously? It's become nearly impossible for me to turn on my own Pandora station without having to be reminded of the stories my life while I listen to you sing them with such sad and sorrowful words. I tried to switch to a Coldplay station, an X Ambassadors station, a Wye Oak station... same thing. Then I switched to a totally unrelated "Indy Dance Radio" station. This is when I started realizing that there was some kind of conspiracy happening. Have you all been sitting around, drinking coffee and watching me? Do you guys consult on the phone after reading my blog? Do you have access to my phone records and photos? My calendar? What is going on? But I feel guilty and pathetic about what you know and I feel like I should explain myself for a bit. So here goes - ...

I've always kept a journal. I've always had secrets - silent desires and invisible dreams. I've always felt like an impostor or a fake.  I've always tried to be what was expected of me. But not anymore. Not since you.    I was me with you. All of me. Me without fear.  Maybe that had little or nothing to do with you.  Maybe it's just where I was at that time in my life. Maybe I had decided to just be all of me because of what I'd been through.  All of the unhappiness. All of the unmet expectations.  If I had been myself from the beginning with others, maybe things would have veered off sooner.  Or maybe my expectations would have been better understood.   I felt completely comfortable in your presence and I didn't feel like I had to hide anything from you. And that was special. But I realize now why that was so special. It's because for the first time, I was not putting on a facade.   I don't want to pretend any...

I have a new routine, in a new home, in a new town, with a new job... but somehow, you're still everywhere. I try not to let myself think about you and I actually don't dwell on us as much as I used to... but you're still there - in the back of my mind - waiting to be remembered. A word. A song. A joke. A smell. A memory. Silly that I thought I could forget you. Silly that I thought I could run away from the feelings in my heart and the thoughts in my own head. It's not fair that you've never even seen my new home, but there are pieces of you still here. Hiding in the dark shadows, your ghostly memories haunt me in the most unexpected of places. Standing boldly in the morning sunlight, your souvenirs stare me down and call my name. I tell myself that tomorrow will be better. I keep trudging through the clutter of memories that fill my mind waiting for my new setting to take over and fill the empty corners. But, ever so suddenly, when I least expect i...