“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.

“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.

She just wants to be loved

She just wants for someone to make her feel wanted,

to make her feel Loved.

So she settles for the half truths, and inconsistent kisses and hugs.

She deals with the constant arguments that drains her energy.

She’s exhausted.

But she just wants to feel loved.

So she watches him fill his body with toxins,

she watches what it does to him,

mentally and physically.

She doesn’t see how toxic he has become to  her,

mentally and physically.

But she ignores her own soul’s deterioration,
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“Beautiful hurricane, I create disasters”

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.

A Time to Reset and Rebuild

I become my own self-fulfilling prophecy

I wrote that last summer while I was dealing with the fall out from Lucifer. I was editing out Sam’s real first name1 out of a couple of places and ran into a post wherein I blame myself for what happened with Lucifer. I’m good at making myself feel like shit. Anyway, the above line pretty much sums it all up, I think2.

Today is Easter. I don’t really celebrate except for the kids and Easter candy, etc. But the whole point of the day for Christians is that Jesus is risen and he’s able to finally be who he was meant to be3. Spring is a time of renewal – a time when light finally begins to win over the dark. It’s when we in the winter climes begin to breathe a sigh of relief. Winter – and the darkness – are behind us now. Now comes the rain to wash away the cold hardness of winter. Easter is celebrated as a Christian holiday.

I celebrate it for the hope it brings. Hope for new things, new warmth, and new chances.

Spring is my favorite time of the year. It’s exciting to me to see the robins come or the daffodils emerging from the soil. I love song of all the birds coming home from their winter foraging. Everything becomes shiny and colorful again. The grass becomes green again and the trees begin to show leaves. Spring is the beginning. It’s the start. We celebrate our New Year in mid-winter. But we should mark it in the spring. Everything becomes new again.

I’ll be a bit sad this year. I so enjoyed the yard at my old house. Anyone who follows me on Twitter should remember this. Whether it announcing the hatching of the dove babies or the antics of my Drunk Neighbor. Or just sitting in the back yard under my trees. The bird nests in my bushes with baby bunnies hidden beneath. The squirrel nests that eventually led to frolicking baby squirrels on my porch. I loved watching my heirloom, lavender rose bush just starting to bloom. My lily garden finally emerging and those fucking ants eating them.

I haven’t really dealt with the loss of my home. Because it was so much more than a house with a yard to me. Spring was the most wonderful time there. My yard would come alive. And I loved it. People say “you didn’t really lose that much. At least you’re still alive”, but they don’t realize that the house itself wasn’t what was important. It was the home it represented. The security and stability of it. It was memories, hopes, dreams and traditions.

I still love this season, but I won’t be working out in the yard or watching the babies be born. I won’t be sitting on my porch watching my neighbors in the evening. It won’t be the same at all this year. This year will be the rebirth of me, I think. That’s what this spring will mark. The restart of the beginning of my new life. It’s just Lil’lady and me now. I’ll be cultivating something entirely different this year. I hope I don’t fuck it up.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. Sam is still not his real name, guys. []
  2. I’m still trying to decide if it’s grammatically correct. []
  3. I’m probably wrong. Whatever. []

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.

A short story

“She told him she found comfort in the way he looked into her eyes. He never did it again.

He absentmindedly played with a length of her hair as she laid her head on his shoulder. She caught sight of his admiration. The next day she cut her hair boyishly short.

This was how they loved each other.”

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Your Pain is My Salve

#AmWriting

“You’re right, sir. I am complicit in my own torment. You were my addiction and I allowed you to crush me and to change me. You most definitely did me a favor when you discarded me so unceremoniously.

But I do not care for you, sir. That is not why I entertain you and stroke your over-sized ego. I was a good person when we met. But that person is gone now. I do not care for you. Instead I loathe you. I despise your existence. I hate everything about you. And I have been aching for revenge.

I couldn’t participate in your downfall, my good man. That would ruin my own facade. My own act as a good person. I don’t want to outwardly appear to wish you ill. How would I look if I did that? What kind of person would I be if I wallowed in the shit with you? I broke free of you and moved on. Let the gods handle you. You are their monster.

Except you weren’t content with that. And came back to remind me of the pain you created. You reminded me how much I never mattered to you at all. It made me question myself more. What happened here? You were happy and living a good life after you left me in tatters. What was the point except to poke and prod and hurt?

I do not care about you, sir, except to see you suffer. I cursed the gods for the unfairness of it all. How dare you do this to me and walk away without a scratch? How unfair is the universe that you get away with the torment you cause everyone in your life? That wasn’t good enough for me. And still I could not facilitate the punishment you so richly deserved.

You are right, sir. I do bear half the blame. I saw through you but I persisted. That is my own pathology and one that is very painful for me. In the capacity that I can love (I cannot!) I loved you. And you hated me for that. You hated me so much that you formulated the perfect torture for me and carried it out. Yet you never realized that I am your complement,  sir. I hate you just as much as I hate myself.

We have come full circle. You are at the exact place you were when our lives collided. I was not meant to love you, sir. I was meant to learn from the suffering I endured at your hands. And I have finally. And so our journey together ends where it began – me moving on from another life and you flat on your face.

I see you suffering now and I am satisfied. This is a torment you’ve brought on yourself. My hands are clean. I did not cause this. In fact, I pathologically tried to save you – my reward for which was the punishment you so enjoyed. This has nothing to do with me or my feelings or anything else that you may lay at my feet. You are solely responsible for your own demise.

But I’m happy that I was able to see how far you’ve fallen. When you tell me about your current struggles you are hoping that I’ll feel bad for you and want to rescue you. You want me to drown you in adoration and words of love and promises that if you need anything I’M HERE. You still have not seen the very truth of me through all of your machinations. You can’t imagine why I’m suddenly so fucking cruel.

Let me answer that. Your suffering is delicious to me. It’s what I’ve been waiting for. It’s what I’ve been hoping for. I am glad of it, my dear. It’s a salve to all the wounds you have inflicted upon me. Your suffering is your own doing, of course, but I relish every damned minute of it. That makes me a horrible person. I’ll work on that later. I am your mirror image, sir, (do you even know what that means?) so your pain is nothing to me. Except the revenge I’ve been craving.

But now I can move past – and above – you.”

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.