Jordan Antonacci's Blog, page 71
November 21, 2017
I love you
When the words… I love you were said to me by you… My heart melted… I had been waiting and waiting for you to say it so I could tell you exactly how I felt about you… I had been wanting to say I love you for a little bit… I have never felt this […]
via I love you
I love you
When the words… I love you were said to me by you… My heart melted… I had been waiting and waiting for you to say it so I could tell you exactly how I felt about you… I had been wanting to say I love you for a little bit… I have never felt this […]
via I love you
I love you
When the words… I love you were said to me by you… My heart melted… I had been waiting and waiting for you to say it so I could tell you exactly how I felt about you… I had been wanting to say I love you for a little bit… I have never felt this […]
via I love you
November 20, 2017
My Dark Passenger
“To know one’s self, one must accept one’s dark side.”
–Young-Eisendrath, P. and Dawson, T.
Not the brightest of light could chase it away–this shadow inside.
No matter what I do, no matter where I hide, it’s always there, tugging at my pant leg. It’s a constant pecking reminder, always crying out to be met.
One night when I was 10, asleep in my bunk-bed with my brother grinding his teeth below, I had a horrible nightmare. By far one of the most emotionally frightening dreams I’ve ever had. In this dream, it was night. I was in a truck with two other people; one on each side. We pulled up the driveway of my home back then, which was a beaten-down, old place in the Tennessee woods. The two people got out, and I was somehow locked in. I managed to crawl out the back window and, as I laid in the bed of the truck, noticed something behind a tree. This thing began emerging–this robed shadow. I was frozen, stricken with fear. It stepped from behind a tree, holding a sythe, then lunged and tore into me. I awoke screaming.
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It was a perfect metaphor. A clear depiction of me, alone, isolated and vulnerable, in a dark time.
“…that need, like a thousand hiding voices whispering ‘This is who you are.’ And you fight the pressure, the growing need rising like a wave, prickling, teasing, prodding to be fed. But the whispering gets louder, till it’s screaming ‘Now!’ It’s the only voice you hear. The only voice you want to hear. And you belong to it.”
-Lila, Dexter
In my moments when I feel most alone–times when I can’t see nor feel the love others proclaim–this shadow seems to be the only one still there. He seems lonely like me. And though the love it claims may be deceit, it’s still the only one who won’t leave. And though I know it’s wrong, my love for it is real. It’s something I hate to love but can’t run from. Sometimes it feels like the only thing capable of making me feel alive. Sometimes I fight; others, I let it take the wheel and drive. Giving in is such an excitement. An enticing sense of wrong.
It gets dark, but in my life, someone has come to shed some light. Only, I need this shadow-thing to stay alive. Because sometimes I feel like it’s the darkness that allows me to pick up this pen and write.
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November 17, 2017
Ladybugs and Destiny
“I want you. I’ll color me blue. Anything it takes to make you stay. Only seeing myself, when I’m looking up at you.”
-Troye Sivan, Blue
They say ladybugs are good luck. Should one suddenly land on you, it’s a supposed sign for fortunes to come. I’ve never believed in any of that bullshit. Not until recently.
Rewind just a couple weeks back. While I was out for a walk along a trail by myself, I looked down and saw a ladybug just there on my shirt, crawling around all happy and red. He flew away. A couple days later, the exact same thing happened. The day after that, I was at the store, reaching for a jar of spaghetti sauce when I noticed another little round critter crawling over my finger. In case you can’t count, that was three ladybugs in a week. My mother told me good fortunes were to come. I chuckled, thinking about money. I wouldn’t say I’m desperate but who couldn’t use more money?
What I didn’t know though, was that I was thinking too small, waiting and looking in the wrong place. For money was not the wealth I was to receive.
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Not long after the whole ladybug parade, I was added on social media by this girl. Such a familiar face, such a familiar name.
“Destinee…I know her…”
It’d been a good six plus years, but we used to be friends. After a lot of texting, we decided to meet up for lunch. Little did I know how much my whole world was about to change.
I was so nervous. She got in my car and so was she. I won’t go into detail, but I’ve truly never connected with someone so much in such a short amount of time. Most of the time was us giggling like high schoolers with our first crush. We connected over memories and Party City merchandise. When it was time for her to leave, I couldn’t help myself but to lean in and kiss her. I remembered in high school, we were at the park one night after sneaking out together and I wanted to kiss her so bad but didn’t. I couldn’t handle a repeat.
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We hangout again that night, out and about till four AM. Then again…and again…. What’s strange is that my nerves before seeing her never go away. Neither do the butterflies when we kiss or just hold each other. Or hell, even when we’re just fucking texting.
I’ve never felt this before and I’m being honest when I say it’s one of the most terrifying things ever. My eyes well up even as I write this because I’m so scared, so overwhelmed with things I never knew I was capable of feeling. I’ve never connected so much. I’ve never cared so much. I’ve never wanted someone so much.
“I know you’re seeing black and white, so I’ll paint you a clear blue sky. Without you, I’m colorblind; it’s raining every time I open my eyes. I want you. I’ll color me blue.”
They say ladybugs bring good fortune. The only problem is, ladybugs always fly away. Or, if you’re me, you brush them away without knowing what you’re doing.
I’m so scared.
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November 16, 2017
How I Felt When My Father Killed Himself
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I was working when the texts and calls came through. Me and the crew were installing a new A/C unit at the time. This was late September of 2017. The summer heat was still lingering, so we were working quick, which meant the vibrations in my pocket got ignored.
Several hours later, it was noon and we took a break. I checked my phone and saw a missed call and all these messages from an uncle I haven’t heard from since I was a kid. The first text read,
My brother, your dad killed himself man. I hate to be the one to tell you but you need to know. I’m here if you need me. Uncle P.
I put the phone down, calmly, and began assessing how I felt. I was a little taken back. There was a mild sense of disbelief, but overall, I felt nothing. When the break was over, I finished up the day, and that was it.
Now, before you start thinking of me as a heartless bastard, maybe I should first give you a glimpse into our “relationship”:
When it was time for me and my brother to get adopted, “Dad’s” only question was, “Will I have to pay for anything?”
He was completely out of my life by the time I was 9 or 10. I remember the last time I saw him. I was outside playing. He drove past. I waved. He rolled down the window, brought his finger to his lips–“shhh”–then kept driving. I stood there waiting at the road’s edge…and waiting…. He never came back.
Before that, he was in and out of the picture. The times he was around, our moments would be brief. He’d show up with a lady. While we visited, this lady would stand back at a distance. She was always holding a binder or clipboard…just watching. Observing.
“I’m in a room with a parent that I don’t barely know; some lady in the corner watching us while she’s taking notes.”
-NF, How could you leave us
In my teenage years, he’d occasionally pop up on social media, under a fake account. He’d only show up just to point a finger at my mother and tell me everything she says is a lie. Then he’d send some pictures of himself at work or at the gym like we were best buds and I was supposed to be proud.
Memories that paint the real picture, I can’t share. Now’s not the time to get into all the bad times, I know that. But there certainly aren’t any good ones to get into.
A couple weeks ago, I had an interesting dream. In it, my father figure was in the picture. He was happy, he was normal, he was there. Everything was as it should’ve been. Then I opened my eyes.
You know those moments when you wake up and it’s like–the feeling in your dream was so profound that it just lingers, and you’re lying there wondering if it was real? If any of it was real? As you awaken, you realize it wasn’t. And, in my case, it won’t ever be. Because he took that from me.
“You should’ve been there when I graduated–told me you love me and congratulations. Instead, you left us at the window waiting. Where you at Mom? We’re too young to understand, where you at, huh?”
-NF, How could you leave us
My whole life, I’ve felt like the victim of some bully who was no longer around. His effect was just looming over me like a dark cloud. For so many days, I’d just sit alone, talking to myself, trying to figure out what I was going to say when I had the chance. How I’d vent all these years of built-up frustrations. So much anger. But that anticipated moment of relief, of vindication, of closure, has been robbed from me. Now it’s just an itch I can’t scratch. A story I’ll never know the ending to.
I’ve recently found out that I have a fifteen-year-old half-brother. We’ve connected over the experience. But that’s three kids. Three kids he gave up and left behind without a word, without a note, without even so much as a fucking goodbye. Good to know what we meant.
So, in the end, how do I feel? I’m pissed. He always needed the last laugh. Now, he’s got it. Congrats, “Dad.”
“Now a relationship is something we won’t ever have. Why do I feel like I lost something that I never had?”
-NF, How could you leave us
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November 14, 2017
Why You Might Feel Like You Don’t Belong
You are not alone.
Belong:
1.to have the proper qualifications, especially social qualifications, to be a member of a group
2. to be proper or due; be properly or appropriately placed, situated,etc.
If there’s one thing all humans have in common, it’s the innate desire to want to fit in, to be accepted, to belong.
It’s a natural crave, yes, but sometimes appeasing that crave doesn’t always come naturally. For whatever reason, maybe you can’t quite find where you fit in. In staying true to who you are, maybe you’ve found that your tastes run different than everyone else’s. And you must be sick of hearing about it:
“Your clothes are different. Your music is weird. There’s something wrong with you. Why don’t you have any friends?”
“All this other shit I’m talking about, they think they know it. I’ve been praying for somebody to save me, no one’s heroic. And my life don’t even matter, I know it, I know it. I know I’m hurting deep down but can’t show it.”
-Logic
Why you might feel like you don’t belong:
Realist
You see everything as it is. There’s no fabrication, no fairytales, no lies. The truth hurts. In today’s society, it’s all about transcending the “American Dream,” from the silver screen into our lives. Maybe you can see beyond that. Maybe you see what really matters. In which case, you probably ask yourself, “What the fuck am I doing here?”
Deep thinker
Creativity and imagination are often byproducts here. And there’s always a price for imagination.
Empaths
“What he has is pure empathy. He can assume your point of view, or mine – and maybe some other points of view that scare him. It’s an uncomfortable gift, Jack. Perception’s a tool that’s pointed on both ends.”
Depression
Maybe you just don’t have the energy to connect.
Depersonalization disorder is marked by periods of feeling disconnected or detached from one’s body and thoughts. Depression offers its very own brand of disconnect–one that you can only understand if you’ve felt it. It’ll strike a chord inside that leaves a melancholy tune resonating throughout your bones. And it has to be one of the emptiest feelings in this world.
“Ain’t nobody calling my phone: ‘Where you been? Where you at? What’s on your mind?’ They say every life precious, but nobody cares about mine.”
-Logic
Hannibal Lecter said, “You are alone because you are unique.”
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There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re one of a kind. Embrace that. You should be proud of who you are. There’s no one else out there like you.
Yes, I am saying to take the guidance of a fictionalized cannibalistic serial killer.
“I find periods of darkness can overcome us at anytime. But I’ve also found that I’m able to endure.”
-Dexter
Thanks for reading 
November 13, 2017
Walk on Water
Too many of us spend our time on everyone else, living our lives for everyone but ourselves. We do it so much that we don’t even realize it. But it’s like living for everyone else is all we know, so we brush it off and think of it as okay. But it’s not okay.
Hip-Hop artist Eminem (Marshall Mathers) recently released a single off his upcoming album “Revival,” and while many may not be fully embracing this newer, sentimental side of him, I think this is one of his best songs he’s put out. In the song, Eminem vents his insecurities about how he keeps letting down his fans because he can’t be who he used to be. While the song is a little sad, I think it beautifully illustrates the growing maturity of a man as he accepts the way things are.
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Expectations
Expectations are everywhere. And expectations are fueled by consistent judgement.
Today, you’d have to search far and wide to find a place without expectations; without judgement.
“I walk on water, but I ain’t no Jesus. I walk on water, but only when it freezes.”
From a young age, we’re all taught to obey such strict, tedious rules to help us conform to the society that surrounds us. We’re taught and expected to do well all throughout school–making A’s or B’s if not the top 5 % of our class. We’re expected to make it into a University to pursue our “dreams,” which sometimes feel more like influenced thoughts. We’re expected to graduate, get a high-paying 9-5, find a significant other, move into a big pretty house, have kids, retire early and die old.
We’re expected to do all this, and for what? Are our lives even really our lives?
And these expectations, they’re everywhere: Parents, bosses, coaches; hell, even in relationships.
But, like the song says, we’re only human. I, for one, know I’m always terrified of letting others down. Maybe that’s why I always leave. Maybe that’s why I avoid potential expectations altogether. As humans, we’re flawed. Some of us more than others. No one’s perfect. As Eminem said, “It’s true, I’m a rubiks. A beautiful mess.”
Live by your own expectations–not every else’s. It’s your life. You can’t please everyone.
“Cause I’m only human, just like you. Been making my mistakes, oh, if you only knew. I don’t think you should believe in me the way that you do, cause I’m terrified to let you down.”
Thanks for reading
November 7, 2017
#amwriting next mystery novel: “The Killed Conscience”
Hey, you live and you learn, right? If you don’t fall down, you’re not trying hard enough.
I spent four years writing, scrapping, and rewriting my first novel before I felt I had a good enough grasp of the craft. I knew I was getting better because I kept seeing my writing from a week before as shit. Ultimately, I scrapped the whole thing and moved on.
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Seven months later, I spit out my first crime novel, The Author. I was genuinely so proud of it. My name may not be on billboards, but I knew it wouldn’t be. Like I told James, it was just a stepping stone–a foundation upon which I can build something greater.
The Future.
I’ve laid out plans for at least five more novels–all of which I intend to write and put out consecutively. I’m hoping to have at least two series.
My next project is a mystery thriller called “The Killed Conscience.”
Brief Description.
After years apart, childhood best friends Emily, Sebastian and Casey get together with their significant others for a couple’s retreat in a cabin rental tucked away in the Smoky Mountains, just beyond Gatlinburg. When a body is discovered not far from their cabin, showing signatures of a recently-convicted killer, the entire country is brought to a stand-still as everyone is left wondering if there’s a copycat on the loose, or if the real killer was ever even caught.
Am I motivated, or just flat out bat shit crazy? Does it have to be one or the other? It was supposedly Albert Einstein that said “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”
So, am I wasting my time dreaming? Maybe. But I know I’ll never have any answers if I don’t keep going. With each book, I know I’ll get better.
‘The Author’ book review by James J. Cudney
Book Review I stumbled on this author and his book several months ago via his blog. When I read a synopsis of the plot, it hit all the sweet spots for my love of thriller and suspense novels: serial killers, twists, writers, subtle relationships and cops. After I read the intro chapter he shared […]
via Book Review: The Author by Jordan Antonacci — This Is My Truth Now
Need I say it? Yes. Thank you Jay. James is in the middle of running a blog tour for his own novel, “Watching Glass Shatter.” Be sure to check out his page
