Friday, December 19, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Rational Thinking vs. A Heart's Desire
Rational Thinking vs. A Heart's Desire
Somewhere deep inside of me there is that little voice that consoles me and drags me deeper into nightmares with the same haughty laugh. Today I sit quietly and listen to the voice of the earth, breathing deep the smell of damp ground and winter's coming; the feel of the warm breeze on the back of me neck sends shivers down my spine. That voice is silent. What have I done to kill that little voice that so readily gives me the answer I come searching for?
Rational thinking says clearly, time and place is as important as love. A child is deserving of all that is good and none of the filth of this place and the unsuitability of living with the father of his father and the mother of his father. Rational thinking says loudly, boldly, almost angrily that desire is foolish, childish, perhaps even selfish. Rational thought says patiently we will wait and give to the babe what it deserves. College first, a home first, nothing of this instability. Damn the winner. Rational thinking comes out on top. And still ...
My mother asks me "Aren't you happy!?" as if that is a reasonable emotion to feel when one's heart cries out inside of you. I was afraid and sick inside with wondering how we would handle a baby, James and I, but once the initial fear resided I was excited. I thought of how sweet and precious another child would be and now I feel like something has been stolen from underneath me. I feel like the rub was pulled out from under my feet and I've been sent tumbling away into the darkness. I know it seems foolish but there is no other way to explain it.
Rational thinking has won this round, but someday when the tide has turned I will have this blasted Mirena removed and I will bare James sons and daughters - beautiful children. Now is not the time - not when we are struggling to keep our lungs clear of water - not now. All I have to do now is wait ... One day. One day, soon enough.
Rational thinking says clearly, time and place is as important as love. A child is deserving of all that is good and none of the filth of this place and the unsuitability of living with the father of his father and the mother of his father. Rational thinking says loudly, boldly, almost angrily that desire is foolish, childish, perhaps even selfish. Rational thought says patiently we will wait and give to the babe what it deserves. College first, a home first, nothing of this instability. Damn the winner. Rational thinking comes out on top. And still ...
My mother asks me "Aren't you happy!?" as if that is a reasonable emotion to feel when one's heart cries out inside of you. I was afraid and sick inside with wondering how we would handle a baby, James and I, but once the initial fear resided I was excited. I thought of how sweet and precious another child would be and now I feel like something has been stolen from underneath me. I feel like the rub was pulled out from under my feet and I've been sent tumbling away into the darkness. I know it seems foolish but there is no other way to explain it.
Rational thinking has won this round, but someday when the tide has turned I will have this blasted Mirena removed and I will bare James sons and daughters - beautiful children. Now is not the time - not when we are struggling to keep our lungs clear of water - not now. All I have to do now is wait ... One day. One day, soon enough.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Author Unknown
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.
The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.
As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.
Then unexpectedly, a sinister thought entered his mind. Why should the other man alone experience all the pleasures of seeing everything while he himself never got to see anything? It didn't seem fair. At first thought the man felt ashamed. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He began to brood and he found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that window -- that thought, and only that thought now controlled his life.
Late one night as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running in. In less than five minutes the coughing and choking stopped, along with that the sound of breathing.
Now there was only silence-deathly silence. The following morning the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take it away. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.
Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.
The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate since he had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."
The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.
As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.
Then unexpectedly, a sinister thought entered his mind. Why should the other man alone experience all the pleasures of seeing everything while he himself never got to see anything? It didn't seem fair. At first thought the man felt ashamed. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He began to brood and he found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that window -- that thought, and only that thought now controlled his life.
Late one night as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running in. In less than five minutes the coughing and choking stopped, along with that the sound of breathing.
Now there was only silence-deathly silence. The following morning the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take it away. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.
Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.
The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate since he had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."
Sunday, December 7, 2008
My Financial Aid
My financial aid came through for school. I was told that I'd run out of time but somehow , 4 hours before the deadline, my aid came through! I'm so happy I could just about explode and rainbows and sunshine would come out my ass.
I start college the 12 of January! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I start college the 12 of January! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Bittersweet Anger. Where have you been, my friend?
Break another piece off of fairytale daydreams and run me through with it. I know he's not perfect but he's never infuriated me as he did just now. It all started when I woke him up this morning to watch Gabe so I could go check out a local school - he was tired and didn't really want to which was relativly understandable but he got up all grouchy and annoying and I was already in a bad mood. Then I asked him to do the dishes and we all got up to clean the house. He griped and complained about that. Then he said something along the lines of " Well I'm the one that works ... " OH HELL FUCKING NO!
He makes me so angry. What right does he have to throw that up in my face? Like because he's the one with the income I'm supposed to do everything else and he's supposed to spend his free time sleeping (which he seems to do an awful lot of) or playing Oblivion. If he had his way he's sleep until it was almost time to go to work and then get up, get ready, and go. I suppouse he doesn't realize that I want more of him then a few passing minutes while he is groggily smoking a ciggarette. And that game? That game distracts him worse. He comes home from work, plops down on it, and then 20 minutes later suddenly remembers me and starts on me. Mostly because he's horny and I've got something he doesn't.
It seems like little by little I'm loosing the level of affection we once shared. He doesn't seem all to interested except to jump on me. You know, when we first started dating he would get up at 10-10:30 every morning so we could talk on and off until he went to work. Am I less important now that he obviously has me?
If this is going to be the case I'll go back to Hell and deal with it. He doesn't realize how close to tears I am.
He makes me so angry. What right does he have to throw that up in my face? Like because he's the one with the income I'm supposed to do everything else and he's supposed to spend his free time sleeping (which he seems to do an awful lot of) or playing Oblivion. If he had his way he's sleep until it was almost time to go to work and then get up, get ready, and go. I suppouse he doesn't realize that I want more of him then a few passing minutes while he is groggily smoking a ciggarette. And that game? That game distracts him worse. He comes home from work, plops down on it, and then 20 minutes later suddenly remembers me and starts on me. Mostly because he's horny and I've got something he doesn't.
It seems like little by little I'm loosing the level of affection we once shared. He doesn't seem all to interested except to jump on me. You know, when we first started dating he would get up at 10-10:30 every morning so we could talk on and off until he went to work. Am I less important now that he obviously has me?
If this is going to be the case I'll go back to Hell and deal with it. He doesn't realize how close to tears I am.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Sobbing Quietly
James is asleep upstairs. Gabriel terrorizes the kittens. My heart is broken into a thousand peices, scattered across the carpet so that when I try to get up from my place on the floor I feel them stabbing me. Like rubbing salt to an old wound. It hurts. I cry. I sob quietly.
My financial aid didn't go through ... again. I don't understand what I am doing wrong here. Now they are saying its because I didn't answer 1 question correctly. Its due the 6th and I have no way of coming up with 800 plus money for books. I'm trembling with pain. I am useless. I am worth nothing.
Publix has already filled the position. I have no job. No college education. I am crying my eyes out and no one is awake to know that I'm in pain
My financial aid didn't go through ... again. I don't understand what I am doing wrong here. Now they are saying its because I didn't answer 1 question correctly. Its due the 6th and I have no way of coming up with 800 plus money for books. I'm trembling with pain. I am useless. I am worth nothing.
Publix has already filled the position. I have no job. No college education. I am crying my eyes out and no one is awake to know that I'm in pain
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Getting Harder to Breathe
Have you ever been in love?
You could touch the moonlight.
When your hearts shooting starts.
Holding Heaven in your arms.
Have you ever been in love?
You could touch the moonlight.
When your hearts shooting starts.
Holding Heaven in your arms.
Have you ever been in love?
Its hard to think straight sometimes. Its hard to breathe. I'm so suffocated by this feeling of belonging that I tremble waiting for him. I count down the minutes until he comes home to me. I wait patiently. I slept as long as I could tonight. From 8 until about 12. I woke myself up with the knowledge that he wasn't there with his arm drapped over my hip and his body heat warming me. I could not sleep another moment. I woke up took another shower, long and hot to soothe my aching heart and then settled down to wait for him. Its almost 2 now. It won't be much longer. Soon he'll come home and I'll have my mouth pressed to his. Perhaps we'll get frisky before we go to bed ... but it doesn't matter if he fucks me or if he makes love to me. As long as I can feel his heart beating against me ... I don't care.
He's my addiction. I know that he isn't perfect but it doesn't matter. Even his flaws are beautiful. I want to spend the rest of forever with him. I want to grow old with him. I want to birth him children. I want to marry him. I look at this rock on my finger and feel suddenly warm. I notie the small marks on my neck and wish for more. I am his and I am marked as his. I am content at last.
He's my addiction. I know that he isn't perfect but it doesn't matter. Even his flaws are beautiful. I want to spend the rest of forever with him. I want to grow old with him. I want to birth him children. I want to marry him. I look at this rock on my finger and feel suddenly warm. I notie the small marks on my neck and wish for more. I am his and I am marked as his. I am content at last.
Have you ever said a prayer
and found it had been answered?
and found it had been answered?
Monday, November 17, 2008
To much thinking
I sit here in the quiet of a near empty house, the kittens tugging at my shirt in need of attention, Gabriel fast asleep. I sit in the quiet of this place and I think to myself all the things I don't allow myself to think during the day. Now, you ask, what is it you are thinking now? This moment is precarious - tempered by my own needs. And I think, you know ... he satisfies the body most willingly, readily, but there still isn't ... enough. I'm afraid I'll consume him with my needs if I'm not careful. He's gotten stronger, more aggressive. He presses against me without hesitation now and his teeth find the tender flesh of my neck eagerly. I think he's come to realize that, that little bit of pain is what I want. Lucky me my work shirt covers my neck or I'd be branded a slut. He's covered me in marks, faint and dark, big and small. I am his.
I am reading a novel he bought me - it was sweet of him, and even though he'll say he only picked it because of the wolf it was a good choice. Its a great book and I'm enjoying it - but at the same time it is brining to light thoughts I've long hidden. It often happens when I consider my own animalistic tendincies, I start to long for more.
I want a house with a big back yard - a place where I can lay in the grass skyclad in the moonlight and not fear. I want a lover that will ravage me when I need it and take the pain of my bite with pride not fear. I want children - soon but not too soon - because my womb feels empty and I long to give him a son. Right now ... I want him to come home so I can breathe him in and curl into his arms and lay there - comforted by the knowledge that he is there and he is mine. I paused today when describing him to Leah - it was suprising. I before had merely called him my fiancee, my bethrothed - and I realized now the difference in what he is and what I've called him.
He is not my promised. He is my reality. My mate.
But is that what he really wants. Does he realize what he's gotten himself into? I wonder. I worry.
I am reading a novel he bought me - it was sweet of him, and even though he'll say he only picked it because of the wolf it was a good choice. Its a great book and I'm enjoying it - but at the same time it is brining to light thoughts I've long hidden. It often happens when I consider my own animalistic tendincies, I start to long for more.
I want a house with a big back yard - a place where I can lay in the grass skyclad in the moonlight and not fear. I want a lover that will ravage me when I need it and take the pain of my bite with pride not fear. I want children - soon but not too soon - because my womb feels empty and I long to give him a son. Right now ... I want him to come home so I can breathe him in and curl into his arms and lay there - comforted by the knowledge that he is there and he is mine. I paused today when describing him to Leah - it was suprising. I before had merely called him my fiancee, my bethrothed - and I realized now the difference in what he is and what I've called him.
He is not my promised. He is my reality. My mate.
But is that what he really wants. Does he realize what he's gotten himself into? I wonder. I worry.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Another One
Great. Just what I need. Another one. James is laying there on the couch watching porn on his cellphone, practically ignoring me and when I take the mother fucking cellphone away he made whimpers. Another one. Daniel did the same thing. He would ignore Gabriel to watch porn when I left them alone. James isn't the SAME but for the love of god why do I have to pck em like i do. Aren't I enough?! What the fuck is the use of pron? I'm more fun. If he needs some can't he just come to me...do I have to be ignored over a chellphone with some fucking whore getting it? god damn it all to hell. I'm angry and he'stoucing me. I can't type straight becasue i have the screen shoved down so he cna't see what I'm writing so if ou can't read this I'm sorry. I don't knwo for sure if I'm even typing right. I'm about to cry. I'm so frustraed. And he's touching me....leaning against myback so i can feel his heartbeat....and i don't wnt tobe angry anymore. I don't want to be..but I am. I'm pissed.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Loki
We found a cat today. A beautiful blue Russian mix with white chest, line along tummy, mittens, and socks. He's got the brightest eyes and he's very friendly. He's bitten Paden twice but I think its just Paden. He hasn't shown any other signs of aggression even as the little girl at Atlanta bread company picked his ass up by his tail. I hope we get to keep him.
UPDATE :: CAN'T keep him. He's bitten everyone at least once but me. He gets overly excited when he plays and bites down. He's a darling but wtih a baby in the house - we just can't.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Can I Live?
Once upon a time I sat in my room and rocked back and forth. Sick in the heart thinking about what I was going to do with myself. Give birth to a child? Me? At 17? Keep him. Give him up to some family that could pamper him like I couldn't? This song ripped my heart into a thousand peices - it shook me up so hard I couldn't breathe. And I knew. I couldn't destroy the only thing that had ever been good and innocent in my life.
He smiles up at me when I call his name and I smile at my big headed bald baby (we shaved him lol) and I'm so in love I cry.
I understand sometimes a woman has to do what she has to do. You can't expect a woman that is brutally raped to carry a child in her for 9 months without hating herself and that innocent life. It happens, sure, but it doesn't mean its fair. I just guess ... I needed to say it. Out loud, on paper, pixel-ized. I'm glad I chose life.
Weight Loss
Once upon a time I was a size 20-22 with a defined waist and full wide hips. I called myself fat and cried, covered myself up with heavy clothes and never let a soul see me naked. Now, after some seriously miscalculations on my part and a little bit of depo-provera I'm now a size 26-28 and I look back with shock and awe that I could ever say I was ugly. Even now I'm pretty damn cute. I've got a sweet face, full breasts, and long legs. HOWEVER. This is not the size I want to be. I've thought and thought and thought about it. I've laid there as James was running his fingers along my sides and tummy absent-mindedly, lovingly, and realized. Yes. He loves me as I am and Yes I love me as I am. I am a beautiful, strong woman. BUT! I don't want to die of a heart attack before I'm 30 and I don't like being out of breathe all the time. I want to be healthier and I do want my defined waist back lol.
So?
My goal? 50 lbs by my 20th b-day. A little over a year.
That and I'm going to start taking better care of my skin and hair. I already take pretty good care of myself but now that James allows me to buy nicer conditioner and facial cleanser I want to go back to my soft white skin as well.
I love me as I am, but I still want to be the best me I can be.
I'm joining SparkPeople.
I'm going to start walking more.
I'm going to be the best me I can be.
So?
My goal? 50 lbs by my 20th b-day. A little over a year.
That and I'm going to start taking better care of my skin and hair. I already take pretty good care of myself but now that James allows me to buy nicer conditioner and facial cleanser I want to go back to my soft white skin as well.
I love me as I am, but I still want to be the best me I can be.
I'm joining SparkPeople.
I'm going to start walking more.
I'm going to be the best me I can be.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
I Want...I Want to Give
I Want A Tarot Deck
I Want A Black Dress and something to go underneath it.
I want to give Gabriel a tricycle and a bed of his own.
I want to give James ..... hehehehe you don't need to know that!
I Want A Black Dress and something to go underneath it.
I want to give Gabriel a tricycle and a bed of his own.
I want to give James ..... hehehehe you don't need to know that!
Monday, November 3, 2008
Uhm..Hmmmmm
Wow. I did not even know people realized I had a blog >< style="font-style: italic;">Link to the person or persons who tagged you. Post the rules on your blog. Write six random things about yourself. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them. Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog. Let the tagger know when your entry is up. Here are the 6 random things about me:
1. I 'm afraid of bunnies. Mostly the easter variety - you know..pink eyes, white fur, razor sharp fangs lol
2. I listen to country music when I think no one is looking.
3. I get frustrated over the strangest things yet have this amazing patience with the mundane or uncomfortable.
4. I sniff rosemary so much people think i'm addicted but I just get reeeeeeeally bad headaches.
5. ....>>...<<...>> I'm addicted to the way James' smells
6. I sing in the shower
I tagged
Beverly
and
Ule
I broke the rules lol. I didn't tagg 6 - but i really don't know enough blogs and the few I do are not very interesting at all >< ANd i can't go tag the one who tagged me
1. I 'm afraid of bunnies. Mostly the easter variety - you know..pink eyes, white fur, razor sharp fangs lol
2. I listen to country music when I think no one is looking.
3. I get frustrated over the strangest things yet have this amazing patience with the mundane or uncomfortable.
4. I sniff rosemary so much people think i'm addicted but I just get reeeeeeeally bad headaches.
5. ....>>...<<...>> I'm addicted to the way James' smells
6. I sing in the shower
I tagged
Beverly
and
Ule
I broke the rules lol. I didn't tagg 6 - but i really don't know enough blogs and the few I do are not very interesting at all >< ANd i can't go tag the one who tagged me
Moonkissed Sunshine ;; They Dance.
Silent, on the edges of existence, eyes the color of ocean water gaze - out onto the empty plains of a still world. The quick tip of tongue moistening cherry red lips, parted against the chill of a sweet winter's wind is the only movement, besides the slight quiver of tensed muscles and the rise and fall of her chest. She waits, with eyes heavy lidded and lashes beating coyly against the seductive pull of the fresh faced moon. Her skin is bright and white, her hair the color of darkened copper. She is delightful and terrible to behold, half cloaked in the shadow of her own rage. She trembles. A deep breathe pulled through the nostrils brings oxygen to her pounding heart. Its rhythm excites her, churning that place between her thighs and enticing her blood to rush through long limbs. She moves. At last, under the cold glow of a winter moon she moves. A step. A stomp. A twirl.
Across the barren fields she moves. Feet barely brushing the earth, wild flowers bloom in her wake and the wolf sings for her glory. Up and down the scale of notes with her heartbeat as its base. The world erupts in noise. No longer does the moon hang over a silent, still world. No longer. Skyclad and beautiful she twists and turns, her voice ringing our in throaty gasps and screams, song that echoes as she moves. She dances. Under the cold moon.
Her breathe twists in wisps of steam away from her mouth, parted in joyful laughter. It echoes across the world until, skidding she comes to a halt before the gilded mirror of self-hate. Before it she stands, rigid, still. Her heart aches in her chest and she bites down upon the fullness of her lower lip. Her eyes narrowed at the images thrown before her. It wheedles away at her self-worth. Dragging their nails through her heart, those that would, laugh at her, calling out in cold angry voices. Spite. Envy. They whisper until tears form at the corners of her eyes and tumble like rain on a barren field. Still she stands, fighting a silent battle with her invisible and tangible enemies alike. Her voices rises and falls in a wild scream and she lunges against the mirror. It does not shatter. It does not shake.
At last, when her aching muscles can take no more of the relentless battering, the world goes still again. The bend of her knees gives way to air and she collapses onto the cold earth. The mirror is no more but its damage lingers as it moves on to another place and time, ready to haunt another soul. They congregate around her for a moment and then, drift away – pleased with the broken soul they've left behind. Again the world is barren and frost tickles the hardened peeks of her breast, melting against the curves of her figure. She lays panting, her breathe growing shallow and slow, faint, as the moonlight that lit her once bright world grows dim in her eyes. Ocean-water eyes, the color of storm clouds across a rough sea, close in acceptance of a slow end of life.
How quickly the strong can fall when the weak find a dent in their armor. How easily an army of 4 or 5 can take down one. Not fully do they all realize the pain they inflict. Those that do live with sick, twisted hearts in their chests. But, there is hope. Always hope. Where life is there is death, and death again is life.
From the somewhere beyond the darkness a hand reaches for her heart, taking the pulsing beating mess of scars and anger and strokes it. A single touch. Warm, painfully so, and she raises her head her eyes unfocused and hazy. Half blind in their pain. From somewhere there beyond her hazy line of vision he stands, smiling a soft smile that is all at once meek and brave, strong and gentle. Eyes the color of honey sweet from the hive, unpolluted wet earth, and the freshness of spring. The smell of musk and clean masculinity reaches her in a wave. Overtaking her senses she tilts her head back and breathes deep, filling her failing lungs with the smell of him. Raising to her feet she trembles, reaching out for him with uncertain hands. Sweetly, he catches her in his arms and she of silver white flesh presses herself into he of gold and bronze. And they stand. One dark as night yet white as the moon's heaviest glow, the other brighter then the midday sun and sweeter then then honey-kissed sunshine.
They stand and the world is no longer quiet. Wildflowers bloom at their feet, the grass sways in the gentlest breeze. The wolf sings out and is joined by a partner as the birds flutter here and their, playing tag and chasing each other. A smile, and they move. They dance. And the cycle is broken. The scars heal. Mother earth weeps with joy and farther sky sings with pride. They dance.
Across the barren fields she moves. Feet barely brushing the earth, wild flowers bloom in her wake and the wolf sings for her glory. Up and down the scale of notes with her heartbeat as its base. The world erupts in noise. No longer does the moon hang over a silent, still world. No longer. Skyclad and beautiful she twists and turns, her voice ringing our in throaty gasps and screams, song that echoes as she moves. She dances. Under the cold moon.
Her breathe twists in wisps of steam away from her mouth, parted in joyful laughter. It echoes across the world until, skidding she comes to a halt before the gilded mirror of self-hate. Before it she stands, rigid, still. Her heart aches in her chest and she bites down upon the fullness of her lower lip. Her eyes narrowed at the images thrown before her. It wheedles away at her self-worth. Dragging their nails through her heart, those that would, laugh at her, calling out in cold angry voices. Spite. Envy. They whisper until tears form at the corners of her eyes and tumble like rain on a barren field. Still she stands, fighting a silent battle with her invisible and tangible enemies alike. Her voices rises and falls in a wild scream and she lunges against the mirror. It does not shatter. It does not shake.
At last, when her aching muscles can take no more of the relentless battering, the world goes still again. The bend of her knees gives way to air and she collapses onto the cold earth. The mirror is no more but its damage lingers as it moves on to another place and time, ready to haunt another soul. They congregate around her for a moment and then, drift away – pleased with the broken soul they've left behind. Again the world is barren and frost tickles the hardened peeks of her breast, melting against the curves of her figure. She lays panting, her breathe growing shallow and slow, faint, as the moonlight that lit her once bright world grows dim in her eyes. Ocean-water eyes, the color of storm clouds across a rough sea, close in acceptance of a slow end of life.
How quickly the strong can fall when the weak find a dent in their armor. How easily an army of 4 or 5 can take down one. Not fully do they all realize the pain they inflict. Those that do live with sick, twisted hearts in their chests. But, there is hope. Always hope. Where life is there is death, and death again is life.
From the somewhere beyond the darkness a hand reaches for her heart, taking the pulsing beating mess of scars and anger and strokes it. A single touch. Warm, painfully so, and she raises her head her eyes unfocused and hazy. Half blind in their pain. From somewhere there beyond her hazy line of vision he stands, smiling a soft smile that is all at once meek and brave, strong and gentle. Eyes the color of honey sweet from the hive, unpolluted wet earth, and the freshness of spring. The smell of musk and clean masculinity reaches her in a wave. Overtaking her senses she tilts her head back and breathes deep, filling her failing lungs with the smell of him. Raising to her feet she trembles, reaching out for him with uncertain hands. Sweetly, he catches her in his arms and she of silver white flesh presses herself into he of gold and bronze. And they stand. One dark as night yet white as the moon's heaviest glow, the other brighter then the midday sun and sweeter then then honey-kissed sunshine.
They stand and the world is no longer quiet. Wildflowers bloom at their feet, the grass sways in the gentlest breeze. The wolf sings out and is joined by a partner as the birds flutter here and their, playing tag and chasing each other. A smile, and they move. They dance. And the cycle is broken. The scars heal. Mother earth weeps with joy and farther sky sings with pride. They dance.
Closer, Closer, Too Close.
How close can someone stand to you? What does it feel like when someone is too close?
Closer, Closer, Too Close.
It depends entirely on the emotional state of the situation. If they are getting in my face out of anger then they are over stepping their bounds and will quickly and confidently put back in their place. HOWEVER. If someone brushes against me/invades my personal space in a quiet, friendly way then most often I accept their affections in a tolerable if not receptive way. I enjoy human contact.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Second Daily Post // No Prompt
I sit, in the confines of white walls, and think of color. Of reds brighter then the sweetest rose. Of greens, fresher then even the newest grass. I see on these white walls the mural of my love for him. With sweeping waves of my hand I paint it in my heart. This thoughtful, quiet, loving man who for whatever reason has chosen me. Inspires such a deep change within myself. Where I once was full of color and had losts it I am again. Where once my voice rang and grew silent, it sings again. I am all at once alive. He sets me aflame in such a way that I am burning even now for him.
There is more to love then sex but there is something so unnaturally satisfying about listening to him breathe heavy against my chest. His muscles aching to press closer, his heart pounding. Its a reminder yet again that I am alive. That he's brought me back from that dark place and given me....color.
He showed me the ring. It has to be sized. Its a frustration. I want to show off what he's given me. Its lovely and delicate - something I would never have picked myself. Something I would never have allowed myself to want. Now its mine, albeit a bit to small, but mine - something I can wear proudly. I am his.
I don't know what pushed me to write this. Another one of those "GASP! He loves me!" moments i guess. Mostly I just needed to put it down somewhere. I am in love in such a horrible, deep, everlasting way - and I'm frightened.
Not of what could be or will be but of what won't. I've been so used to misery that its like leaving an old friend behind. I do so willingly but its still awkward. Waking up in his arms, and feeling his slow breathing there beside me... I know now that he loves me just as I am and that I don't have to worry about getting old and unattractive. He'll still be right there beside me. I've found the one. That fairytale perfection everyone looks for and few find. It found me.
Huzzah! lol
There is more to love then sex but there is something so unnaturally satisfying about listening to him breathe heavy against my chest. His muscles aching to press closer, his heart pounding. Its a reminder yet again that I am alive. That he's brought me back from that dark place and given me....color.
He showed me the ring. It has to be sized. Its a frustration. I want to show off what he's given me. Its lovely and delicate - something I would never have picked myself. Something I would never have allowed myself to want. Now its mine, albeit a bit to small, but mine - something I can wear proudly. I am his.
I don't know what pushed me to write this. Another one of those "GASP! He loves me!" moments i guess. Mostly I just needed to put it down somewhere. I am in love in such a horrible, deep, everlasting way - and I'm frightened.
Not of what could be or will be but of what won't. I've been so used to misery that its like leaving an old friend behind. I do so willingly but its still awkward. Waking up in his arms, and feeling his slow breathing there beside me... I know now that he loves me just as I am and that I don't have to worry about getting old and unattractive. He'll still be right there beside me. I've found the one. That fairytale perfection everyone looks for and few find. It found me.
Huzzah! lol
Invisi-girl! AWAY!
Imagine that you could be invisible in any scene you wanted what would it be?
Invisi-girl! AWAY!
Imagine being able to sneak up on your worst enemy, steal their secrets right from their mouth. That would be interesting. Then again. If I could go invisible whenever I was embaressed would be nice to. Mostly, I'd want to sit in a crowded place and watch the people uninhibited, draw, and read, and just watch without them seeing me and watching back. To be able to study the human psyche in such a pristine condition would be scintillating. Maybe then I'd learn how to be normal. :D
Imagine being able to sneak up on your worst enemy, steal their secrets right from their mouth. That would be interesting. Then again. If I could go invisible whenever I was embaressed would be nice to. Mostly, I'd want to sit in a crowded place and watch the people uninhibited, draw, and read, and just watch without them seeing me and watching back. To be able to study the human psyche in such a pristine condition would be scintillating. Maybe then I'd learn how to be normal. :D
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Childhood Nightmares
What was it like to be a child?
Childhood Nightmares
My childhood was a strange one. Riddled with lies, too much drinking (on my part), drugs (on my families part), and a healthy dose of growing up to fast. Its a complicated long story that the internet needs never see. So. What was it like to be a child? Rainbows! Sunshine! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wild, Passionate, Empathetic, Lost, Protective.
Use five adjectives to describe yourself, expand on each one.
Wild, passionate, empathetic, lost, protective.
I am Wild. I am the beast. The warrior spirit runs through me, darkening my blood and engulfing my senses. I am ferocious. I am stubborn. I run through the tall grass skyclad and splattered with mud ( or I would could I get away with it. ) I am Wild.
I am Passionate. I live life to the fullest. I breathe deep and hold it until at last my laughter bubbles out joyously or until my anger wells and explodes. I feel everything. My fire burns hot and does not dwindle even in the darkest moments. I am Passionate.
I am Empathetic. I feel as others feel. Though I don't always reach out with gentle hands I sense and know and understand. At times I am waylaid by the emotion around me and can be enraged without meaning it or brought to heart breaking tears over another's misery.I am Empathetic.
I am Lost. I float, adrift on a thankless sea, frightened into silence. I lay upon my back and stare with longing at the moon's glowing face and at the twinkle of the stars. I float. I do not know my way home though I hear the call of a thousand voices urging me to swim this way and that in search of shore. His voice rings the loudest but fearfully I do not move. I am too frightened to reach for his shore. What if I am cast away again into the sea. Better to stay. Better to remain....Still...I wish he'd come out into the ocean to get me. I am Lost.
I am Protective. I protect my son. I protect my friends. I protect my heart. I fight and fury over my companions, never allowing a single blow to come their way. I stand in the path of each arrow with a need to sacrifice myself for others. I am Protective.
I am Wild. I am the beast. The warrior spirit runs through me, darkening my blood and engulfing my senses. I am ferocious. I am stubborn. I run through the tall grass skyclad and splattered with mud ( or I would could I get away with it. ) I am Wild.
I am Passionate. I live life to the fullest. I breathe deep and hold it until at last my laughter bubbles out joyously or until my anger wells and explodes. I feel everything. My fire burns hot and does not dwindle even in the darkest moments. I am Passionate.
I am Empathetic. I feel as others feel. Though I don't always reach out with gentle hands I sense and know and understand. At times I am waylaid by the emotion around me and can be enraged without meaning it or brought to heart breaking tears over another's misery.I am Empathetic.
I am Lost. I float, adrift on a thankless sea, frightened into silence. I lay upon my back and stare with longing at the moon's glowing face and at the twinkle of the stars. I float. I do not know my way home though I hear the call of a thousand voices urging me to swim this way and that in search of shore. His voice rings the loudest but fearfully I do not move. I am too frightened to reach for his shore. What if I am cast away again into the sea. Better to stay. Better to remain....Still...I wish he'd come out into the ocean to get me. I am Lost.
I am Protective. I protect my son. I protect my friends. I protect my heart. I fight and fury over my companions, never allowing a single blow to come their way. I stand in the path of each arrow with a need to sacrifice myself for others. I am Protective.
Double Post // 30th -31st
If someone looked in your top drawer of your dresser, what would they learn about you?
NOTHING! I don't have a top drawer right now. My clothes are folded and stacked on a shelf on my bookshelf. LOL
Do you ever challenge the rules? Describe on instance.
I suppose every day of my life I challenge the rules. I don't follow most of the rules set by mortal man. I search for my own truth and explore my world in my own way.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Touch me! TOUCH ME!
How much touch is comfortable with you? With family? With friends? With strangers?
Touch me! TOUCH ME!
My biological family is perhaps the only group of people who I do not want to be touched by, besides the odd stranger who gives me a bad vibe or the even rarer person I dislike enough to want to keep at least 5 feet from me. I am a social creature and naturally reach out and put a hand on a shoulder or give a hug good bye. I thrive under human contact and blossom into quite the social butterfly when presented with an equally touchy person.
The only thing I can not stand is when people touch my face. I've never liked people touching my face. Its always been aggravating and uncomfortable for me. I can only think of a handful of instances when I willingly allowed someone to brush the hair out of my eyes or touch my cheek. I can think of only two people who I've ever enjoyed doing it.
James and the woman who was talking to me about Reiki.
James touches my face and I lean into his fingers eagerly. His touch is both a comfort and a burning taunt/call to action. He warms me from head toe and makes me think, simultaneously, of hot, steamy nights in bed ... or .. on the floor ;-D, and laying in bed with my head on his chest and his heart beating against my ear. He does not calm me, but instead incites emotion in me. Deep, never-ending love.
The woman ( bless me, I can't remember her name!) who was talking to me about Reiki at PUD reached out and brushed my bangs from my eyes and I just smiled and continued to listen. It was like sitting at the feet of my mother (not my real mother...what I think it would feel like) and listening to her tell me a story. She was the most comforting person I'd ever met and I longed to sit and talk with her more but she was very busy and I'd already taken up so much of her time. She subdued me so completely I don't think I'll ever approach her again. It felt like my warrior spirit had been tamed if only for a moment. She could have asked me to jump through a flaming hoop and into a pool full of man eating, hungry shark-monsters and I'd have laughed gleefully and done so. Very unnerving!
As for the general strangers? I hesitate at first but once I've gotten a good idea of who they are about I often scare them away because I'll brush my hand on their shoulder or stand a little to close. I have a hard time with people who have such strict bounties. I enjoy affection, even the baseless affection of a would be friend.
My biological family has always treated me poorly so I can't imagine touching them for the most part. My mother gets hugs here and there and I put my hand on my Papa's shoulder now and then but I am not close with them and feel a distance between us that can't seem to be breached even as we sit in the same room.
My biological family is perhaps the only group of people who I do not want to be touched by, besides the odd stranger who gives me a bad vibe or the even rarer person I dislike enough to want to keep at least 5 feet from me. I am a social creature and naturally reach out and put a hand on a shoulder or give a hug good bye. I thrive under human contact and blossom into quite the social butterfly when presented with an equally touchy person.
The only thing I can not stand is when people touch my face. I've never liked people touching my face. Its always been aggravating and uncomfortable for me. I can only think of a handful of instances when I willingly allowed someone to brush the hair out of my eyes or touch my cheek. I can think of only two people who I've ever enjoyed doing it.
James and the woman who was talking to me about Reiki.
James touches my face and I lean into his fingers eagerly. His touch is both a comfort and a burning taunt/call to action. He warms me from head toe and makes me think, simultaneously, of hot, steamy nights in bed ... or .. on the floor ;-D, and laying in bed with my head on his chest and his heart beating against my ear. He does not calm me, but instead incites emotion in me. Deep, never-ending love.
The woman ( bless me, I can't remember her name!) who was talking to me about Reiki at PUD reached out and brushed my bangs from my eyes and I just smiled and continued to listen. It was like sitting at the feet of my mother (not my real mother...what I think it would feel like) and listening to her tell me a story. She was the most comforting person I'd ever met and I longed to sit and talk with her more but she was very busy and I'd already taken up so much of her time. She subdued me so completely I don't think I'll ever approach her again. It felt like my warrior spirit had been tamed if only for a moment. She could have asked me to jump through a flaming hoop and into a pool full of man eating, hungry shark-monsters and I'd have laughed gleefully and done so. Very unnerving!
As for the general strangers? I hesitate at first but once I've gotten a good idea of who they are about I often scare them away because I'll brush my hand on their shoulder or stand a little to close. I have a hard time with people who have such strict bounties. I enjoy affection, even the baseless affection of a would be friend.
My biological family has always treated me poorly so I can't imagine touching them for the most part. My mother gets hugs here and there and I put my hand on my Papa's shoulder now and then but I am not close with them and feel a distance between us that can't seem to be breached even as we sit in the same room.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Sex Change? Omgosh!
If you could change your sex, would you? Talk about your answer.
No.
Lol.
Once upon a time I wondered curiously if being a male would be easier. I had a difficult time with my sexuality and most of all with my femininity. It was difficult to realize that I could be a girl and still be rough. That I could enjoy the way my breasts felt and the way I felt about sex in general without being embarrassed. I figured being a man would be easier. Now? I've realized that being a woman is a beautiful thing and I like me just the way I am.
Besides! James likes my junk the way it is lol.
Lol.
Once upon a time I wondered curiously if being a male would be easier. I had a difficult time with my sexuality and most of all with my femininity. It was difficult to realize that I could be a girl and still be rough. That I could enjoy the way my breasts felt and the way I felt about sex in general without being embarrassed. I figured being a man would be easier. Now? I've realized that being a woman is a beautiful thing and I like me just the way I am.
Besides! James likes my junk the way it is lol.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
No Prompt Today
Daniel called me. Can't stand the bastard. Makes my insides twist with hate. I could hear the curiousity, jealousy, and spite in his voice as he asked how my "date" was with my new boyfriend. I wanted to laugh but all I said was. "Boyfriend? You mean my fiance James? Yea. I spent the weekend with him." I could practicly hear his jaw drop. All he could talk about was how awesome he is and how muscular he is and how I'm going to drool over him. I laughed. I didn't tell him but I wish I had. He never..not once..made me orgasam and he claims to be the perfect lover. My sweet, romantic, oh so yummilicous James was a virgin and he has me screamign and writhing and all over the place. Daniel never saw me naked. I was so ashamed of myself with him. So afraid that he wouldn't love me and my imperfections. I tingle as I lay naked next to James and he runs his hands all over me, admiring every bit.
Its amazing the comparison. The difference is shocking. Daniel said "So basically he's the complete opposite of me?" I wanted to say "yea. He's sweet, you're an ass. He's romantic, you're selfish. Oh and he's good and bed." I just smiled and muttered mhmm. How do you tell someone so egotistical, so sure of your love for him, that you don't give two shits if he goes and dies for his country. Meaningless, insignificant, disgusting little prat.
Its amazing the comparison. The difference is shocking. Daniel said "So basically he's the complete opposite of me?" I wanted to say "yea. He's sweet, you're an ass. He's romantic, you're selfish. Oh and he's good and bed." I just smiled and muttered mhmm. How do you tell someone so egotistical, so sure of your love for him, that you don't give two shits if he goes and dies for his country. Meaningless, insignificant, disgusting little prat.
Friday, October 24, 2008
One Skill
If i could be instantly given one skill it would be to speak every language known to man as if I were a native of that language. How amazing would it be to be able to talk to anyone at any time! To be able to bridge the gaps of language and be able to seek knowledge more freely. That would be amazing.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
L.O.V.E
Ironic, no?
The day I decide I'll start a journal and find a site with prompts to help me through happens to be the day they ask me to speak of "love." Its as if I can't get enough of gushing and cooing like a school girl over her first crush. He does give me those topsy-turvy, all over, inside-out, butterflies.
My most recent myspace posts have been dedicated and full of sweet nothings ; whispers of a burning desire. Here? I think I'll speak in a darker tone.
Love. Frighteningly strong. Fearfully deceptive. Perhaps he'll love me now in my youth when my eyes still sparkle and my breasts are still relatively perky, when I can still maintain soft pale skin without botox and freaky serums. But what happens when I've popped out a handful of his progeny and I'm not so pleasurble to be in anymore, my hair starts going grey - oh so stuborn grey, and I've grown ... boring? People keep warning me of the "honeymoon stage" where love seems to blossom but soon flickers and dies. What if his love is only infatuation and soon after he's wisked me away into a new home he decides I'm not worth the effort? Tt said (and only because I'm frightened of loss do I even listen) that men often profess strong love when the prospect of a warm body is near ... and he'll love me only as long as the excitment lasts.
What if I stop being exciting!?
I want to spend my life with this man. With his soft, warm eyes. With his sweet smile. A counterpart in him, I see. I love him. I love everything from the dorky way he smiles to the way his eyebrows furrow in worry when I say I've a headache. The way he kisses me. The way he holds my hand for no reason other then to hold my hand.
Could this sweet, dedicated man be a momentary comfort? Could my dreams of a fufilling life and a lasting love be only that? A dream?
I pray to the Gods and the Godesses that he'll love me always, as I love him. For without him I fear I'd crumble.
The day I decide I'll start a journal and find a site with prompts to help me through happens to be the day they ask me to speak of "love." Its as if I can't get enough of gushing and cooing like a school girl over her first crush. He does give me those topsy-turvy, all over, inside-out, butterflies.
My most recent myspace posts have been dedicated and full of sweet nothings ; whispers of a burning desire. Here? I think I'll speak in a darker tone.
Love. Frighteningly strong. Fearfully deceptive. Perhaps he'll love me now in my youth when my eyes still sparkle and my breasts are still relatively perky, when I can still maintain soft pale skin without botox and freaky serums. But what happens when I've popped out a handful of his progeny and I'm not so pleasurble to be in anymore, my hair starts going grey - oh so stuborn grey, and I've grown ... boring? People keep warning me of the "honeymoon stage" where love seems to blossom but soon flickers and dies. What if his love is only infatuation and soon after he's wisked me away into a new home he decides I'm not worth the effort? Tt said (and only because I'm frightened of loss do I even listen) that men often profess strong love when the prospect of a warm body is near ... and he'll love me only as long as the excitment lasts.
What if I stop being exciting!?
I want to spend my life with this man. With his soft, warm eyes. With his sweet smile. A counterpart in him, I see. I love him. I love everything from the dorky way he smiles to the way his eyebrows furrow in worry when I say I've a headache. The way he kisses me. The way he holds my hand for no reason other then to hold my hand.
Could this sweet, dedicated man be a momentary comfort? Could my dreams of a fufilling life and a lasting love be only that? A dream?
I pray to the Gods and the Godesses that he'll love me always, as I love him. For without him I fear I'd crumble.
I will Be Using...
http://www.geocities.com/papabear1701/prompt_library.html
Each day I will post from the prompt of the day.
Each day I will post from the prompt of the day.
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