“She Wins”

I’m putting her away deep in a box I constructed long ago. She doesn’t want to go back. She’s kicking and screaming and throwing a total fit. But she’s not required anymore. She’s not useful and all she does is make me cry.

It’s not my demon. No, ultimately, she’s been right every time. I designed her to protect my most tender spots and she’s tried. I thought I wanted her gone. But it’s better for the other part to go away.

The part that loves and cares too strongly. The part that still has hope that this isn’t really my life. She’s unrealistic, immature and soft. Too soft. These last two years have been mostly miserable – because she hoped for a different outcome. She’s always hoping. But my life is not supposed to have what she needs. I see that now. So, she goes back.

It’s hard. It hurts. Of course it does. There were a few times when I have been ecstatic about my life. But those are off moments. And they make it worse when reality comes crashing in. I think I deserve something good, but that’s not in my cards. I don’t even want to try anymore. I just want to move forward and forget this childish nonsense in my head.

I want the chaos to calm. That’s not some kind of threat to hurt myself. But it’s also a hope that I don’t hurt myself even more. My self-destruction is more subtle; slow. I likened it today to someone cutting themselves – except I do it to my mind. I find the most inventive ways to do it, too. Not alcohol or drugs or other overt ways. Those are easy to spot. People get frustrated with me because they don’t get it. Because I look ok. I sound ok. I’m really just an undercover nutter.

I’m afraid to try again. I’d forgotten and then refused to acknowledge that this is it for me. Too late. I’ve fully embraced the curse of my mother’s line. Being someone other isn’t possible for me. Not anymore.

So, I’m going against everything my therapist suggests. She means well, I know. But I don’t think she fully gets what I mean when I tell her these things. Loving myself, right now, means letting go of the part that hurts. I don’t need her anymore. I need the fierce, bitchy part of me more than anything.

It’s taking some time, but I’ve found a way to hurry it along. Wounds need to scar over and that scar tissue needs to be thick. With every hurt feeling I get a little cooler. More aloof. Less concerned with the tender feelings of others. More cruel. I will be sweet as anything, but woe to the person who might fall in love with me. I’ll love my family and friends forever. Everyone else can fuck themselves.

This is probably not good for people who are in the habit manipulating and controlling me. I’ve stopped pretending around Millie – which is a big step. I won’t ask for respect anymore. These mofos are used to using me for whatever. Everyone who thinks I am the person I allowed TheMan to mold me has been a little shocked. I don’t care anymore. The shin-kicking portion of this shit show is over. I’m done with the giving and getting. And I’m done bowing to my betters. I’m done worrying about some white trash skanks as if they mean anything to my life. I can’t say I’m done with the rage, though. The demon that thrives on that rage?

She wins.

Had a Date Last Night

So, I finally went on a date last night. I decided it was time because absolutely nothing else is working. I’m just so tired of not doing anything because someone’s tender fucking feelings are going to get hurt. Time to worry about my own feelings1. He texted me yesterday asking about when we can get together. I decided that last night was the perfect time to do it.

It’s not some dude off a dating site though. I keep trying to meet these bozos, but they think I should come to their house to “watch movies”. Man, gtfo with that shit. I say “no” to that every time. Most of those guys know what’s up then and decide to cut contact. A couple of them have persisted. The last two standing sent me either full nudes or partial nudes to get me to meet up with them. I hate to break it to you, guys, but you’re penis is not all that attractive. I don’t care about that nonsense. And I’m certainly not sending nudes back. Not worth the effort.

“I’m sorry. It’s way too early for this nonsense. How’s about asking me how I am or, I dunno, what my favorite color is? Warm me up. Put in some effort. Better luck next time.”

I’ve known last night’s date for 25 years. A long time. He was 18 and still in school when I met him. He’s now working as a drug counselor at a halfway house2. Anyway, back then I was with Bobby. This dude and Bobby were friends. I BROKE A RULE. Anyway, he told me last night that he was mean to me back in the day because he had a huge crush on me. He said he regularly dreamt about me back then. What? Ok, then. Of course, he couldn’t do anything about his feelings because Bobby would’ve probably literally killed him3. I wouldn’t have been interested anyway. Bobby and I were deeply in love. I didn’t even look at other men back then4

We had a nice chat. I told him about the time I got into a fight with his first son’s mother for what I thought was no reason. Turns out she knew he had a crush on me. She regularly accused him of sleeping with me. I guess she even tried to tell Bobby once. But we weren’t sleeping together – ever. Bobby knew that. He didn’t even bother asking me. Anyway, she saw me alone in my favorite hole-in-the-wall and decided to flex on me. She’s a rather large girl and she had a bunch of other large girls with her. I actually made the right decision that time – I took off. But I didn’t just go home. Nope. I called Bobby. Then I went with him to his friend’s house and his friend’s sister was there. They called some people and the next night we all piled into two cars to go back to the bar. Of course, this woman and her friends were there. She was waiting for me. She shouldn’t have been. Really.

We all walked into that tiny bar as a group. The look on her face was amazing. She wasn’t expecting all that. I smiled at her and then she dashed out. We followed her out. Then my friends made sure her friends kept to themselves so we could battle right and proper. I kicked that bitch’s ass all over the place. She was much bigger than I, but I’ve been fighting big people my entire life. After she was thoroughly embarrassed, she flagged down a police car. She told the cop that I attacked her. It certainly looked that way. Then the cop came to talk to me. I was sitting by myself on the curb because I’m a cute little white girl and my friends were not. He asked me what happened.

Me: “I don’t know what’s going on. I’m just trying to sober up a little.”
Him: “She says you attacked and beat her.”
Me, laughing: “Really? Officer, that doesn’t make sense. Look at me then look at her.”
Him: “Thank you, Miss”

And away he drove with her safely in the back seat. It was that was the end of that. I never saw her or her friends in that bar again.

My friend then told me she’d always been jealous of me and probably wanted to settle the score. That was probably 5 years after Bobby and I broke up. She really did hate me a lot. I don’t care. Just another fucking fan.

So, back to my date. I got an invitation to the Bahamas and New Orleans next year. I might actually go. I don’t know. We had a couple of shots and some beer then called it a night. Anything else can wait until later. I didn’t want to go back to his place and he certainly wasn’t invited to mine. And this chick doesn’t do the back seat unless that back seat is something spectacular. I’m too old for that nonsense. Plus, I mean, I really want a dude to put in some work. I am so sick of these mofos who just treat me like a placeholder for someone else. He’ll have to put forth some effort. I think I’m worth it most of the time.

Bonus: My social calendar for June is actually full now. And I’m running into July5. This is exciting for me because I didn’t do anything last summer because of, well, my depression. I refuse to sit home all the time now. Bring on the adventures. I’m ready.

  1. I know I do that here. It’s different out in the real world. []
  2. Yes, he knows I smoke weed. []
  3. I was off limits forever. I’m still supposed to be off limits. []
  4. Well… During the early days of our relationship. []
  5. Going to Cedar Point. I love Cedar Point. I love rollercoasters. []

“Breathe” – Through Fire

I’m fade to black as a search for the light
Can you bring me back from this unconscious life?
Can you show me the way I’m lost in the dark
I’ve fallen apart, can you unbreak my heart?

So I can breathe
Before I suffocate
Before it’s all too late, before I die this way
I need to breathe, before I sleep away
But there’s something left to say
Can you help me
I need to breathe

I hear the angels calling, can you send one down?
I see the demons crawling, everywhere around
Can you pull me out from the mess I’ve made
Before my lungs collapse and there’s no turning back?

I need breathe
Before I suffocate
Before it’s all too late, before I die this way
I need to breathe, before I sleep away
But there’s something left to say
Can you help me I need to breathe

I need to breathe
Can you hear me I’m screaming
I’m broken down, I’m bleeding
I’ll be making through
I need you

I’m fade to black as a search for the light
Can you bring me back from this unconscious life? (help me)

Breathe before I suffocate
Before it’s all too late, before I die this way
I need to breathe, before I sleep away
But there’s something left to say
Can you help me?

I need to breathe, before I sleep away (rescue me)
I need to breathe, before it’s all too late (rescue me)
I need to breathe, before I die this way (rescue me)
I need to breathe, I need to I need to I need to (rescue me)
I need to breathe

Songwriters: Justin Mccain
Breathe lyrics © Sumerian Music Group

Me & My Demon alternatively I Am My Demon

I’ve had occasion to discuss my demon before. I call her an evil bitch, but that’s not really the case at all. She’s evil to everyone else. To me she’s a flaming sword.

The other day I asked someone “do you think in words or images?” It was an interesting conversation. One that I really want to explore. I asked her what would happen if I asked her to describe something how would she think about the something? She said she thinks in words. I think of different concepts in images. I can describe it to you in words, but it’s formed a shape in my mind – even concepts that don’t have a visual cue get one in my mind.
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Let the Summer Begin

So, I’m dating again. Did I mention that? No, because I’m too busy bringing more shit into my life. Well, let’s talk good stuff.

I met this guy from Cleveland. He’s my age and has a job, a car, and his own place. He’s freaking adorable. We talk every morning now and are close to getting to the final step. This is where my anxiety kicks in. Is he going to like me when he sees me? I don’t know why I think this because I’m not catfishing anyone. But I do enjoy talking to this guy and he’s making such a good effort to woo me.

Then there’s this other guy. He lives about 20 minutes away. He sent me some pictures this morning and his house is amazing. His body is also amazing. Not going to lie. I mean, generally I laugh at dick pics, but his came at the most opportune time. I was so pissed and then BING. There it was. Aww, thanks, fucktard. It looks like a penis – as they all do – and it looks like he likes to use it. Good for him. I know that he’s the one who won’t call after we get naked.

And he is the one I’m going to spend time with this weekend. I can tell he’s not really interested in anything long-term. So he’ll be doing his guy thing and then will ghost. That’s perfectly fine with me. I think that’s what I need right now. Just a rough-and-tumble and then “BYE!” I’m good with that. He’s a very pretty man and, apparently, has a high sex drive. That works for my purposes this weekend. Shit, I might like him so much that I’ll stop talking to the other.

Hahaha! No, I absolutely will not. Fuck monogamy. I tried it. I don’t like it. I know the risks and I know how to be safe-ish1. I have not been a believer in monogamy since I was a teenager. I think everyone cheats in some way and that we’re not designed as animals to practice monogamy. Easy peasy. I think if it works for people then good for them. But it has never been something that works for me. I always end up on the wrong side of a fucked up situation when I try it. When I wasn’t monogamous – and my men knew about each other2 – I was much happier. I didn’t give a shit if Jay showed up one night, because I could call Jason. And I refused to let myself get attached to my secondarys3. Actually, back in the 90s I refused to get attached to anyone. If I started to feel a certain way about a dude I put him to the side. I wasn’t having that.

Monogamy is for wolves and birds. And probably some kind of marine animal of some sort. It’s not for humans. It’s not for me. I waste time on that shit. Being careful not to flirt, refusing otherwise fine engagements because he might get mad, changing my behavior so he is comfortable – all the while the shady motherfucker has his penis in half the town. I don’t like that. I don’t like that my partner would risk my health and not tell me. If I know that my dude is seeing someone else then that mofo is wrapped up when he’s spending time with me. I want to be safe. I’ve never had an STD and I don’t really want one. I’ve heard they kind of suck. Anyway, that’s the way I prefer it. I don’t want to be the one who gets shit on anymore. I’m sick of it.

So, I have a thing tonight, a date tomorrow4 and a date on Sunday. Not with the same guy. This would be J, M and R5. I think there’s another J in there but I haven’t talked to him all week, so he might have to wait until next weekend.

I know I should be writing, but fuck it. Let’s have some fun.

  1. No one is completely safe. []
  2. I am honest about the fact that I will accept other partners if they meet my needs. I’m selfish that way. They then have the choice to accept that or move on. []
  3. Side dick? []
  4. Maybe a sleep over. Depends. []
  5. I’m not bothering naming them. []

A short: Garden of Ashes and Rock

Is this younger generation so callous that you just say ‘I love you’ with such abandon? Have you no point of reference? Have you even felt that chest-gripping, intoxicating, beautiful thing that is falling in love? Can you describe it? Has it ever taken you to the moon and back? Did you pray to the gods for this magnificent gift? Has your breath caught at the very thought of someone else? When your mind drifts to their lips, do the butterflies begin to flutter?

There is nothing so awesome of that first realization of love. The air smells cleaner. The sky is the clearest blue. The birds sing in harmony. It is so much more beautiful when the object of that love feels the same way about you.

Have you ever felt that feeling, that confidence, only to learn that the love you feel is one-sided? All those words, all that sharing, all the bonding… all of it an illusion? Who can do that to another person? Who can so righteously cause that amount of pain? This lie leads to that lie to that lie to the nightmare you gaze upon today. Eventually the realization sets in that this was worse than a game. This was you being of no greater use than a hammer to a nail. You are defeated. The wound left behind will never fully heal. The hole will never be gone. New doubt has been born and that is what will flourish in this garden of ashes and rock.

/fin

“Stranger in My House” – Tamia

Mm, mm oh

I don’t understand
You look just like the man
In the picture by our bed
The suspense is pounding and clouding up my head
I’m checking your clothes
And you wear the same size shoe
You sleep in his spot and your driving his car
But I don’t know just who you are

There’s a stranger in my house
It took a while to figure out
There’s no way you can say who you say you are
You got to be someone else
Because he wouldn’t touch me like that
And he wouldn’t treat me like you do (you do)
He would adore he, he wouldn’t ignore me
So I am convinced that there’s a stranger in my house

Now show who you are
Don’t see your shadow around when you walk
Your leaving no kisses
Goodbye with no words
If these walls could talk
They would have nothing to tell

So what could it be
Is there someone imitating me
Could she be taking my place
Look me in the face
And tell me that I am wrong when I say

There’s a stranger in my house
It took a while to figure out
There is no way you can say who you say you are
You got to be someone else
Because he wouldn’t touch me like that
And he wouldn’t treat me like you do (you do)
He would adore he, he wouldn’t ignore me
So I am convinced that there’s a

Stranger in my house

Pop quiz
Tell me where we first kissed
Tell me where my spot is
Tell me if I like it, love it
Or could it be
That the stranger is me
Have I changed so drastically
Is it I want more then me
And you remain the same

There’s a stranger in my house
It took a while to figure out

It took a while to figure out
You can’t be who you say you are
You got to be someone else
Because he wouldn’t touch me like that
And he wouldn’t treat me like you do
He would adore he, he wouldn’t ignore me
So I am convinced that there’s a stranger in my house

Woo

There’s a stranger in my house
It took a while to figure out

It took a while to figure out
You can’t be who you say you are
You got to be someone else
Because he wouldn’t touch me like that
And he wouldn’t treat me like you do
He would adore he, he wouldn’t ignore me
So I am convinced that there’s a stranger in my house

Things I have Learned From Idiot Men

I create a lot of problems for myself. I will be the first one to admit it. I will look down at my foot and shoot that fucker right off. I am too impulsive.

I did another stupid thing last weekend. I maybe will talk about this stupid thing when I can figure how out to tell the story1, but that’s not today. I want to talk about something I learned from my experiences with my craptastic exes. You know, the ones I allowed myself to become emotionally invested in. The ones that mattered.
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  1. I’ve written it and deleted it about 10 times. []