“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.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

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

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Jealous Boyfriends and the Stories I Tell

I’ve been writing a book. Well, ok, not recently. But I’ve gotten quite a bit of this book done – 89,000 words. Then I met Lucifer and, well, I stopped writing it. I was going to start up again, but my dumbass gave a good portion to the pup to read and that did not go well.

What was his complaint regarding what I’d given him? Well, for one, he seemed to think that it was a erotica about the UPS driver at work. Nooo. The one character he could’ve gotten that vibe has dark hair, dark eyes and sings popera. The guy the pup was so worried about is blonde with blue eyes and, I’m pretty sure, can’t sing. Words mean things.

Quite frankly, I was really into Josh Groban and David Tennant at the time and, well, combined the two in my sex-starved1 brain. But I never even wrote any sex scenes that could’ve been misinterpreted by anyone other than a pup with low self-esteem and a really terrible best friend.
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I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. At the time. []

“Look at me” : A Short

It’d only been moments. Her body was still tingling; her breath still ragged. Her eyes weren’t focusing right and her heartbeat was too loud. She could hear his voice through the fever in her mind. She was still in the clouds – starting to crash down.

She looked at everything but him. It was all too confusing. What was happening? She stole a glance at him. His eyes were wild, his mouth moving in fury. His words were garbled in her mind and she wasn’t able to snatch meaning in any of them.

He was bending down now. His face close to hers. She looked away. His breath was hot in her ear. What was he saying? Why was he so angry? It had been so beautiful. Her heart had sung. The chemicals in her brain were drowning her in bliss. She’d turned to look at him when he jerked from her.

“Look at me!” His fingers were clasping her jaw. He was turning her head in his directions. Her eyes refused to follow. She couldn’t bear to see the way his face was distorting. Why was this happening?

She didn’t know the sobs were coming until they were rocking her body. She couldn’t control the shaking as he continued his verbal assault.

“Why are you doing this to me?” She heard her voice – small and strained. He paused. “What did I do?” He held his hands to her cheeks. His fingers were cool against her skin.

She dared to look at him then. What was he thinking? His eyes were narrow, his nostrils wide and his mouth a straight, hard line. Another sob escaped her. Tears were flowing freely. He gritted his teeth at her and stood.

“Who were you thinking of? Why were your eyes closed?” He was growling at her. She didn’t understand. Her eyes? She drew her shoulders in and hid her face. “What other guy are you thinking about when I fuck you?”

She started, her body stiffening straight up. This didn’t make any sense. What was going on? She felt heat flow to face. This was because her eyes were closed? She snorted. Tears welled again.

“I was thinking of you.”

He was standing naked in front of her, his fists balled tight. Neither of them had gotten dressed yet. It had been so beautiful – finally. He didn’t say anything. She knew he didn’t believe her. Somehow he’d decided she was cheating on him in her mind while she was with him. She moved across the bed. He just stood there glaring at her.

“I was thinking of you the entire time.”

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Wherein I Still Can’t Get a Grasp on Shit

Yesterday was such a mix of emotions and activity. I was exhausted by the end of it. Days “off” are never “off” for me.

I tried to clean out the toxins yesterday in my session. I started to. I grabbed her box of tissues and said “I’m going to need these.” She says back “Oh, man. Ok.” I didn’t accomplish much.

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I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

When We Met Again

I can remember seeing him again after I hadn’t seen him in months. I was excited and nervous and my head was all over the place. He looked different from the last time I saw him. Taller, maybe. More hair for sure.

I know he saw me, but he was trying to act nonchalant. I watched him walk toward me, stopping to say something to a couple of people. His eyes would flit to me then away. I didn’t take my eyes off him. I’m not exactly sure if I was breathing. I resisted the overwhel.ing urge to run to him and sweep him into my arms – as much as anyone my height could sweep anyone his height. My arms twitched. I was anxious.

He finally looked directly at me and that smile… That smile almost made me cry it was so bright and gorgeous. I felt the heat behind my eyes and beat it back fiercely. No tears. Not even happy ones.

Then he was standing in front of me. Just standing there smiling, his eyes wide and bright.

“Hi.” He didn’t move. I didn’t move. I took in his face. He looked so different. Better.

“Hey, you.” No sooner than the words were out of my mouth I was reaching up and he was reaching down. And finally – FINALLY- we were in each other’s arms. There was no sweeping up of anyone. He didn’t lift me; I didn’t jump. He wrapped his tall, lanky frame over and around me. He came down to me. I buried my face in the nape of his neck and clutched at his hair in an effort to make myself part of him. I’d been waiting so long…

His arms wrapped completely around my body and I fell into him. I moved closer. I needed more. He was here and I never, ever wanted him to leave again. I was holding on for dear life. I could feel his long fingers in my hair, his face buried in my neck. We’d become one right there with that hug.

I was completely happy in that moment. Overjoyed. Over the moon. Full of hope and love. I’d missed him so much. He missed me. He loved me. I loved him. The hug didn’t last long, I think. I don’t remember how our bodies separated, but it felt cold when it happened. He didn’t move far from me. Did he miss me as much? I’ll never know now. I’ll never know what he felt that day.

I remember that day. All of it. From the time I woke up until I finally kissed him. That kiss took me so far away. It was beautiful and sweet and full of yearning. He never stopped smiling. He never stopped watching. I remember my sister telling me she was fighting to keep her hands off him. I barked at her that he was off limits. He’s mine. No sharing. I remember watching him get his bearings and wishing we could just go lie down together. I forced myself to stop touching him, hugging him, being in his space. I didn’t want to be anywhere else. We were reunited. And this time I was going to go for it.

I remember the day I first saw him again. And it breaks my heart all over again.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Unexpected

I can’t think of many redeeming qualities he possesses. Half of the time, okay maybe majority of the time, I’m struggling to even find what it is I even find attractive about him. He really isn’t my type physically. Besides his curly black hair, his smooth brown skin, his perfectly shaped lips. Ok…ok maybe I do know why I am attracted to him. But it’s not his looks that have me so dazed by him. Quite frankly I don’t know what it is about him that does. I get irritated by his impulsiveness. His arrogance. His inability to be selfless at times. He is not someone  that I would have thought I would love. His reputation is far from flawless. If I had been looking for perfection. He was far from it. But I fell. And I fell hard. So unexpectedly.

Is it love? For a long time I prayed that it wasn’t. All I was looking for was a distraction for a lot of things that were falling apart in my life. A good time, if that’s what you want to call it. He brought excitement into my life. Secret meetings, in secret spots. Both just looking to escape reality.  But I know that I myself, possess a certain curse. Men seem to fall for me even when they don’t think they would, and I usually hold the power in these situations. This time no one held this particular power. Even though I could see he was falling. I slipped too.

The moment I slipped I knew the power was now his. Sadly, he knew it too.

I remember the moment. I knew I lost the power.  Sex wasn’t just sex anymore. It became some type of window to my soul. The night I knew I loved him. Everything felt different. Smelled different. We moved different. I felt as though I could hear his heart beating through his chest. My heart beat seemed to sync with his. Everything slowed down. I focused on his breathing. Everywhere his breath touched made me shiver. His hands locked with mine. They didn’t let go. I just kept thinking it was all in my head. It was just me. But then we locked eyes. His eyes stayed on me the whole time. I would look away and he would follow.

He knew.

He knew what I didn’t know , or didn’t want to believe. He knew I had loved him. But for how long. He put his cheek on my cheek and his breathing in my ear,  heightened all my senses. All the times before it was just sex. All the times before I never paid attention to all the details. This time I was in tuned with him. My body was in tuned with his. And at the peak of the intensity. He pulled his cheek off mine. And looked into my eyes. And for the first time the words I love you flowed so sweetly from his lips. And all I could think was, if this wasn’t love then God I don’t know what is.

 

“Beautiful hurricane, I create disasters”

A short: Half Past

The clock showed half past midnight
What an hour to be awake
There is no security for these later years
Seven decades of this
Can she finally rest
The dreams have died as the years go by
Anger, sadness and then acceptance
Joy and happiness have long ago been given a new meaning
There are no more wishes to be made
There is just these two jobs
These children with their hands out
No rent from that one
No money from the other
Babies from here to there
And not a mother anywhere
And so she goes to bed
Her early shift at the second job coming too soon.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

I Want to Hide A While

Do you know what’s really bad about small towns in my area of Appalachia? The limited collective memory of the people who live here. People who grow up here get put into boxes young and they can never move out of those boxes. If you’d done anything as a teenager or young adult that broke the moral code then that is the label you carry to your grave with you.

It doesn’t matter where you go or how you grow. It doesn’t matter how hard you try to break out of that little box. Your intelligence, hard work, personal growth is all inconsequential. What you did when you were 17 years is all anyone needs to know about you. Find a new friend outside of your social category? Someone will come a long to remind everyone involved why it’s just not a good idea.

There is no anonymity in a small town. You can not go unnoticed. The more different you are the more everyone knows about you. Every interaction you’ve ever had will be scrutinized: how does this person know that person? Ok, then that person is related to that person through this person who everyone know did this thing when he was 17. Oh, my.

It’s almost a caste system. There are some untouchables in certain small towns. The extra-weird weirdos. No one will even be seen being kind to them. When someone passes them on the street they look straight down at their feet. If they can’t see them then they can’t be real. Outcasts, these people. Untouchable.

If you choose to remain in the town after you get out of high school, well, you’d better just remember your place in the system. Yes, go to school, better yourself. Get a decent job and raise a nice family. All of that. But never forget that you are only allowed friends within your box and that your children can only be friends within that box. Non-conformity will not be tolerated by anyone who wants to live without derision. No, no, I can’t be friends. What will the neighbors think?

There’s a certain amount of safety in living in a big city. No one knows your history. No one knows which box you should’ve fit in. No one has the memory to judge you by. You get to make a new impression. You can be in the box or outside of it. There are enough people exactly like you for you to form your own social group – away from the constraints of the tight-knit culture of a small town. Not a conventional person? In a non-conventional relationship? It’s much, much easier to say “who the fuck cares?” when you are surrounded by people in your support group. People who accept you and all of your quirks.

The constraints of that kind of social system1 make me crazy. I’ve said many times “This place sucks my soul.” And it’s true. I was much happier amongst other weirdos like me. I tend to remember the bad things that happen2, but I loved living in a city. I loved my awkward group of friends. I loved the memories we made together. I didn’t grow up there, but they didn’t care. Some of them didn’t grow up there either. They didn’t give a shit if I went to church. Non-conventional relationships were all part of our lifestyle. We didn’t make decide to ridicule someone because they fell in love with someone outside of our social norms. Welcome to the fold, new blood.

I could use some of that big city anonymity right about now.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. The locals who grew up there can tell you all about it. []
  2. This is, apparently, a major character flaw of mine. I’m going to be working on that. []

Another short: Night

#amwriting

They sat together by the fire. The sun was just setting in front of them. The end of a long day.

He chuckled. “You were too young for me.”

She rolled her eyes and dared a half smile.

“You were too old for me.”

“Did it matter?”
“Not to me.”

She poked at the fire furiously. The conversation was slow moving, but she really wished it would just stop.

Suddenly his form was dimmer. He was fading. Night had fallen. Still she could feel the presence of others lurking in the shadows behind her. They grew stronger and more angry. She poked at the fire one last time before she stood and turned. Hot air blasted her face, but she did not close her eyes to the heat. No, it was time to face them.

She smiled. “Hello, assholes.”

Her demons smiled back. Until the sun made it’s way back above the hills she was theirs. Let the fun begin

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.