The Wastelands

Heartbeats fading

2011-09-13T14:15:00.000-07:00

I lay brokenhearted in the night for years, crying tears that were such a waste. So much effort, so much energy lost, trying to recover what I just gave away. But you know something? I'd do it all again, just to feel your heartbeat again as you lie next to me. To feel your skin on mine, the touch of your lips. The way you made my heart beat faster just by looking at me a certain way. I miss all of that. I miss you.

But now it's time to put you away. It's been weeks since I looked at pictures of you, stroking your face in my mind, and wishing against everything that I hadn't been such a fool. But it's time to forgive myself for things I can no longer change. You are not mine. You never will be again. I can be grateful for the time that we did have together. There will be days when I will still ache for you. Especially now that I'm determined to go it alone. But now I'm strong enough to remind myself that it's no longer my right to hold you, to have you close.

You will no longer be the standard I measure every man against. Your smile in my mind will blur and let me see others clearly once more. Those heartbeats of yours that I was convinced beat in time with mine? They will fade from my ears, never to be heard again. The warmth of your skin, the strength-under-silk feel of your body, will no longer be impressed upon my skin.

One day, when I've found my own strength again; when I've got back all of myself that I let myself lose when you left me, then I'll find love again. And this time, I'll grab it with both hands, and I'll hold it close. And I'll treat it the way I should. Thanks to you. :)

Losing the hurt

2011-09-06T03:11:00.000-07:00

It's been a while, and I still miss you. I've tried talking myself out of it, unsuccessfully, and just given in.

The good news is you're no longer a sharp pain in my heart. When someone mentions you, I no longer store it away to examine later, to treasure it and cry over it in private.

You're still a huge part of my life, whether I'm being guarded or not, something will always creep up that reminds me of you. But when I whisper your name now, it's a charm. A reminder of something beautiful that will always be kept safe inside me. The bitterness is gone, the hurt has drained away.

But I'll always miss you. And wish you were here, with me.

Unfair

2011-08-31T22:32:00.000-07:00

I've had some good days lately. I'm grateful for them, and am determined to enjoy them while they last. I've learnt that even in the insanity that currently surrounds my life, I can find a space for myself sometimes, and be at peace. It's a fragile bubble, one that bursts often, and painfully, but surrounds me again. I owe it to my friends for helping it stay around me as long as it has, this time. Things are so different when you have people around you to hug you, people you know you can really rely on. It doesn't always make the actual problems easier to solve, but it does make life more bearable. I'm glad that this time, I'm trying harder to pull my friends close, and not push them away like the last. But maybe that's because I rediscovered an old friend without whom I'd be lost now.

She gives me strength that I'd never have found if not for her. She inspires me, with her faith in me, to try and be better though I feel like it's a hopelessly lost cause. Her sense of adventure, her longing to try things that she couldn't do because of circumstances... it makes me ashamed that I, who should be able to do them, am scared to try. Watching her give and be strong, supporting everyone around her, I want to be more like that. She cares, even though it hurts, showing me what it's like to really love selflessly.

I look at her, and wonder why she doesn't see it - the beauty that's in her. Her friends see it, they're drawn to her, and she mothers them and takes care of them, and never seems to see that they're there because of here. That they are a group because of her love holding them together still. I wonder why she waits for a man to tell her who to be, when inside, she's all I'd love to be. I hope she never compromises who she is again. That she finds the strength to grow into the amazing individual we all see in her. I also hope she finds the man who complements her, and who loves her for herself. A man who has the strength and belief in himself and in her, to handle the amazing person she is now, and is still to become. And that they make gorgeous little babies who climb trees and swing on gates and drive me completely mad.

She's funny, and bad and crazy and silly. She makes mistakes, and through it all, she gets up and keeps going... with a little help from her friends, her dogs, and sometimes her contrary cat. She's no saint. She's my friend.

I started writing this to complain about something someone else did to me. But I've realised that it doesn't matter how unfair some stupid acquaintance is to me. It doesn't matter, because the people who have been there all along are the ones who are important.

I've been praising just one of my old friends, but I have as much to be grateful for in my other old friends who have been there as well, if not always, because they had their own lives to deal with. They've brightened my day too, with surprise calls, and the little things that mean so much. Then there's new friends. They haven't been tested by time, so I've no idea how long they'll be here. But my life is a brighter place thanks to them. They don't know about this blog, so they'll never see it. But I hope someday soon, I can tell them exactly how much they've done for me.

There are two people that I do have to thank on this blog. Guiding Spirit and Delilah, your comments have reminded me that I'm not alone out here in the great big internet. A little hope goes a long way, and you've given me quite a lot. Thank you. =)

Resistance training...

2011-08-18T01:58:00.000-07:00

... is my life.

No, I haven't started working out.

Well, yes, I have. Just not at a gym.

What I meant is that my life is full of spiritual resistance training. Whenever I seem to think I've got the hang of how to survive at a certain level, someone goes and increases the resistance.

Now, as grateful as I am to the universal power who is ensuring my growth, could I please have some time off for good behaviour before I get 'promoted' to the next stage? Because I honestly think I'm going to break.

The problem is, the only reward I want is one that I can't seem to have. It's the first thing on my mind in the morning and the last I whisper into my pillow at night. You'd think that after all this time it'd change, that I'd adapt. I wonder sometimes, if part of my mind is unhinged, to keep begging for something that I know I can't change or get back. But whether it is or not, I don't have a choice. I've resigned myself to living with that little weeping voice in the corner of my heart, pleading for things to change. Because I know I can't change the way things are - I've done everything I can, and short of a miracle, nothing's going to change on its own. And hard as I've tried, I can't kill the voice. So live with it, I do, and pray for miracles the whole time.

But now that I've accepted that, could you please not reward me with more challenges to deal with right away? No, it's not going to help me to take my mind off things. I already tried that, remember?

It's a funny thing, how people seem to think I spread calm. I don't know if it's just all in peoples' heads, but it actually seems to work. But it feels like I absorb all that tension and negativity from people around me, whether they're close to me or not, and then unleash it on whoever I'm in a relationship with or very close to. Not something I want to do anymore, and I've finally found other outlets, but lately, the yuck's been piling on so fast, I can't cope. I'm overwhelmed and lost and scared of self-destructing again.

I need chocolate. :/ And you. I really wish chocolate were enough. It isn't.

Cynicism

2011-08-11T17:01:00.001-07:00

The more I see of you, the more cynical I get.

You were my first love, the man who came before all other men. The one I loved unconditionally and totally, and the one who let me down the hardest. Every time I think you've changed a little, it just turns out you're just using us again.

I guess you do love us in your own way, but I hate how you see us as resources, to be thought of only when you need something, and to be put on the shelf when not required. That's not family.

Sigh. It's funny how I was relatively well-adjusted until you brought my world-view crashing down.

Now I'm just another girl with daddy issues. Sad.

Sadblog

2011-08-03T12:44:00.000-07:00

I deny it not.

This is my sadblog. It's where I unload all my hurt, lost dreams, wishes that never came true. Maybe that makes my life look a little unbalanced, but what's the point of planting flowers on a garbage dump? Sure, it makes good manure, but no one'd really benefit because the smell of the flowers would be overwhelmed.

So why am I trying to reassure you that I do have moments of happiness in my life? Partly to convince myself. And partly because you've given me hope and I don't want you to think it's wasted. Thank you. For the smiles, for the hope and for the kindness to a complete stranger. May your lives be brightened the same way.

Himaholic

2011-08-03T12:33:00.000-07:00

Two-Step

2011-07-29T03:13:00.000-07:00

Step forward, step back, forward, then back.

They taught me how to dance... and then I learnt to dance with you, and forgot everything else. This is not how it's supposed to be.

I should have known better. I'm old enough and smart enough, but I've never been detached enough. Never drag someone else into a life that's too messed up to hold its own. No one new can fix what you yourself can't, not if it involves your heart.

If I'd met you earlier, or later... But 'what if's don't matter anyway.

And it's the same cycle, over and over, like a beginner's waltz where no one knows any steps but the three.

I want to let you go. I do. I swear I do. You're happier now, from what I hear, and there are people who will love me and need me just as I am. But I need you.

I call you sometimes, just to hear your voice. I text you, hoping against hope that you will respond, if only to say you never want to hear from me again, because I crave that connection. I never thought I'd sink so low, not for anyone. But I have, and I can't talk myself out of it. I don't understand. Is it because I wronged you? Is it because you left, and not me? Am I losing touch with reality from hoping so much? I don't know how to let you go, and so, everyday, I play back pictures of us, all ending with you walking away. I've told you I wouldn't try to talk to you anymore. I don't know how I will, but I'll try. Forgive me if I fail sometimes. It's only because I miss you and I love you in a way I'll never understand. Which is why I'm trying to let you go, even though I fail. I wish you'd talk to me, tell me again that there's nothing here. Hopefully if I heard it enough, it'd sink in. But maybe you know me better than I know myself, and it'll never be enough. Maybe it's just not worth the effort for you. The thought hurts, so why won't it cure me? This has gone on too long.

To the other one. The one who saved me, against all odds. I thought that gratitude would be enough. That I could give you my life without all of my heart. How stupid could I be? And why did you let me? I used your love for me. I may not have known it, but how can that make it better? I love you too, but not enough. How can that make sense? And after what I've been through, how can I expect you to go through it too?

I'm sorry for the mess that is my life. A month ago, I'd have given up, I'd have said I couldn't take it anymore, and I'd have tried to kill myself. Today, I have to go on. I'm not sure whether that's strength, or stupidity.

Getting back up

2011-05-31T09:35:00.000-07:00

A first step. A small one.

Pushing forward through darkness and confusion. Knowing you won't be there. Finding a way not to care. Life is out there, and I will find it, will live it. And the maybes will fade. This time will fade. And I will go on.

Strength is hard to find after so long wasting away, but I had it once. Sanity amongst all the madness of this mad, mad world. It will be alright. Hard to believe when others say it. But now, finally, maybe I can find the courage to.

Missing you surrounded my world for so long. Wrapped it in a shroud of aching, longing, yearning. But you're not here. And maybe never will be. I miss you still, a part of me lost. But it was your choice, so I must make mine. And you've left me no other. So I will learn, and I will grow. And I will hope.. that someday, somewhere, we'll meet again, and I'll hold my own. Unafraid. And you'll see. You'll see me.

But for today, enough of somedays and somehows. I need to find the now.

I live... still

2010-11-30T18:42:00.000-08:00

I am depressed.

There I said it. Not that saying it seems to solve anything. It never has. The first step to solving a problem is admitting you have it? Phooey. Sometimes it seems to me it's an excuse, but it's not. I'm sure I can fight it though.

I lost everything - my dignity, sanity and even the moderate amounts of intelligence I gave myself credit for. And the thing about hitting bottom is that sometimes by the time you reach, you've already drowned. Or you feel too tired to push yourself up again, and drowning seems like the easier option. Morbid, cowardly and selfish? Perhaps. And yet what gives anyone the right to judge another's path?

I never used to understand the concept of giving someone else the power to end your life, and yet I've given someone the power to save mine. The person I begged and pleaded and wished for wouldn't deign to try, and yet someone saw the shell that was left and considered it beautiful and worth preserving. Life's funny, isn't it? So why isn't gratitude enough? Why can't I let go of old longings? Why must I still reach out to the person who helped put me here?

But can I really blame anyone else? I am responsible for my own life aren't I? It's what I always believed. So why now, when I need it the most, has this belief deserted me, along with the faith I had in myself, in my dreams, in life and in others?

I still haven't figured out how to pick myself up and I'm sort of floundering on the bottom, but I guess I should give myself points for being able to get this out, because a day ago, I couldn't have. Progress in any direction is still progress, right?

Live, Love, Lose

2010-08-01T11:20:00.000-07:00

Standing at yet another edge of sanity, looking back, I'm wondering whether the choice to jump off was worth it. But what was there left to do? Latent hatred, roiling anger,and the desire to no longer be here, do this leaves me speechless. I wonder why you, and why you had the impact on me that you did. In picking up the pieces, I keep finding bits missing. It wasn't your fault, the wrong time, wrong place, wrong person mess of it all. Maybe it was mine, and I am sorry. But I've said I'm sorry so many times. And what good would it do even if we were to be friends again? What could I do with a friendship like yours now?

I have everything I need, and yet memories of you claw at me. I hide them out of sight, where no one can see, where no one will ever know but me, and pull them out to flail myself with when I'm in need of no further pain. Someday, maybe I will let myself free, in the meantime, the penance goes on. Maybe that's why I need your friendship, so I can let that go. But what use is it asking you? I've been nothing to you for so long now that it wouldn't matter if I asked.

My most recent ex-love, the most tumultuous of them all, I dream of you still. Different from the others in ways I can't begin to define. Do you ever let go of something like that, or does it seep into the flaws of your being, coating them over, giving them a different shape?

I've lost so much, and yet I've gained so much. Here's to the future.

The Way Things Are

2010-01-18T22:48:00.000-08:00

I haven't been able to write. I've been blocked, completely. Nothing at all, not little snatches of poetry, not my thoughts or feelings. They've all been stuck inside me for a while now. And I find that scary. Because I've always been able to write. It's the one thing that could set me free, give me the release I couldn't find from talking to other people. Having that outlet cut off made me feel lost, like part of me was dammed. I don't feel like I have it back yet, but I'm clawing my way there.

Things have been happening lately that I didn't think would ever happen, and I don't know how I feel about them. And they all happen at once, or in a sequence that knocks me off balance and keeps me on my knees. Every time I think I've fought my way back to some semblance of equilibrium, something else comes at me and leaves me reeling. I've always wondered if it's my fault, and the way things are, I'm going back to believing it. I know I shouldn't. Things just.. happen.

It hurt when dad left. I cried myself to sleep and it makes me feel so - weak. I don't think I ever really had a hard shell, but at least I had the illusion of one. But I'll accept that, 'cause he's my father.

And then yesterday, I cried again. It's strange, this feeling of loss. I thought I'd get used to it. Maybe I will. But I don't want to, so why should I have to get used to it. Aren't we supposed to save the things that are important to us? But how do you know at which point it goes from saving something valuable to clinging in vain to something irredeemable?

My Kryptonite

2010-01-17T21:51:00.001-08:00

... is you.

I never learn, do I? If you open yourself up to people, you give them the power to hurt you. They may not mean to, will swear to you that they'd rather do a million unpleasant things like sleeping on a bed made exclusively of live, writhing snakes and thorns, but believe them at your peril. Most often, they'd make it feel like it's your fault. Not that I'm perfect, but no one deserves to be shunted aside until they're convenient, or to have someone be angry with them for needing time.

So, screw true love. Screw relationships. Just screw 'em all.

Death Knell

2009-09-11T03:27:00.000-07:00

Slipslip sliding
mad eyes writhing,
the Gorgons' dark breath
foretelling her death,
down the slope she goes
where to, no one knows.

"The Earth, she's hard",
so sang the bard
who kenned well what he said.
The dying soul has fled
into the deeps of hell
called by the pealing knell.

Flight

2009-08-18T23:12:00.000-07:00

I'm tempted to run again. Just barely holding myself together. I can feel the panic building, the familiar tension. It's a flight reaction because I can't remember how to fight. He tells me it'll be alright, and I nod and smile, but I think even he can see I'm not convinced - not entirely.

It's early this time. I promise not to think about it, to just let it go, but inside, my thoughts are churning. Why, I wonder, do I yearn to be held back, kept safe, steady; despite fighting it all the while? I used to think that maybe it was the person I was with who couldn't hold me. Now I know better - the one to tame the beast must be me.

But do I even want to? What am I searching for? How will I know?

Treading Water

2009-08-17T23:12:00.000-07:00

Standing right at the edge, she watches the waves lap over her feet. It's a cloudy, overcast day, and there's no sign of the sun. The sound of the waves envelops her, holding her close. She can hear shouts, but they're faraway, everyday things, meant to be ignored. Entranced, she steps closer, and sits on the sand, ignoring the water licking at her clothes.

It feels like coming home. She smiles, content in herself.

Dancing on a tightrope

2009-08-12T21:39:00.000-07:00

Pushed and pulled by conflicting loyalties, she wonders where this is all going to end.

The choices stretch ahead of her - thin, uncompromising wires - and she takes the first step. She's hesitant, trembling as she leaves the safety of the platform. There is no a safety net, and a mis-step could send her crashing towards - what, exactly?

She's afraid, but this is no time for fear. She forces her body to relax, willing each muscle to yield. It's a progressive softening, an adaptation to her environment. She frees her mind, allowing it to think about anything rather than where she is and what she's doing. She's prepared. She can do this. It's been done before.

She takes a step.

Into emptiness.

Life.

2009-08-03T02:03:00.000-07:00

This is where I'd usually write a long, tearful post about how everything sucks and it's all my fault and shit. But to be honest, I'm sick of feeling that way. Life's messy and you don't get it right all the time. Sometimes the choices you make affect other people. And there are always consequences.

But you live through it. I always have. Sometimes with a bit more drama and a lot less will to live. The point is, though, that it always ends. It may come back to haunt you later, but dragging yourself through the mud until then is unlikely to help.

I'm moving on. Maybe I made the wrong choices, but there's f###-all I can do about it now.

I hope we stay friends. Or become friends, considering the current state of things. It sounds stupid to me when I say he means a lot to me, but he does. He's still the most amazing person I know. Strange, huh?

Laughter II

2009-07-31T05:12:00.000-07:00

Continued from here...

She fell back on the floor, writhing in pain. They just watched, unaffected.

They'd all known she'd try to escape, just as she'd known that they would stop her - that it'd never work. But she'd had to try.

He walked in through a door behind her and she curled up into a ball. She could still sense him when he walked into the room - a combination of that hint of oh-so-sexy perfume and sheer presence. She tensed against that familiar feeling of need. Summoning up all the hate she could find, she stayed where she was, not caring that the grime from the floor was getting in her thick hair, and matted into her white dress.

They vanished into the shadows of the dimly-lit room as he strode up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off. She sensed movement, tension in the shadows. They were waiting for her to make once false move.

He knelt beside her. "You're not one of them, you know." His voice was kind, not a hint of the detachment with which he'd killed her family showing.

She wondered if keeping quiet would be the better option. Ignoring him, pretending he didn't exist.

But she answered anyway. "You murdered them. They were all I had and you slaughtered them, like animals...." Her voice trailed off, not strong enough for the effort it took to keep it from breaking.

His jaw flexed. She could almost see the anger flashing in his eyes, though her back was still to him. "They are animals! Them and all their kind! Alex, they kill innocent people! They've gotten to you so you don't see it. Don't you realise you would've been next when they got tired of their cute young human plaything? Dammit, Alex, I love you! I would do anything for you."

The words cut her to her heart. Once, she'd believed. Once - it seemed a very long time ago - she'd thought that she'd love this man until the day she died, and that he felt the same.

Staying True

2009-07-26T13:22:00.000-07:00

What is truth, anyway?

Is it in anything I say?

I swear I'll never lie -

That I'd rather die

It's so easy to believe

Even as I deceive.

Truth is a dream -

the clippetty-clip-clop

of the high heels

of a woman on the hop.

Prick-prick-pricking,

stabbing the stone

though she's walking alone

Truth is a lie

until you die.

It's all in your head,

the black and the red,

debits and credits -

nothing truly fits.

Meaningless words for the most part, but they fill my head. And it makes sense to me, somewhere, deep down inside where I'm trying to stay true to who I really am. I change so much and so often that I can barely find that truth now. You'd think that basic principles wouldn't change. Like love being sacred. Or always being truthful, no matter what the cost. Don't cheat, don't lie, don't steal. Those are basic. They don't change. Or do they? I can't tell anymore.

It's so easy to slip a little. Relax one little rule, because, really, who does it hurt? Just this time, right? We won't do it again. And the next time, it comes just that much easier. Is crime a habit? I believe it could be. You never hurt the ones you love. Or do you hurt them the most? I don't know.

We all try, we shoot for the stars, aiming for the impossible in search of the God in whose image we were created. Did God expect us to be perfect when he created us, or dependent on his love to save us from the way he made us? How fair is that anyway? To create humans with hopes and dreams, with a conscience - to design them to want to be good - no, that should be Good, with a G - and then say OK, you're not perfect, I'll forgive you if you make mistakes, you're just human. It's like saying "You have to want to be the best, but really, if you're not, it's just because I made you that way, don't worry about it - but try anyway."

Is the choice between good and evil just sport for unseen beings, or really the daily struggle to save the world that it seems to us? Is there any point to it at all?

I think I may have lesbian tendencies!

2009-07-24T08:33:00.000-07:00

I'm still trying to get the picture out of my head.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...

There I was, walking innocently along the road, minding my own business.. when suddenly, they filled my vision. I couldn't focus on anything else, I was staggered. Leggggs! I looked up for barely a second, and up and up until finally my eyes met the hemline of a pair of very short shorts. I'm ashamed to say I can't even remember what the rest of her looked like. And the guy with me did tell me there was another girl there too.. But I can't seem to see beyond the legs. :S

Yeah, this is short, but I'm still trying to deal with the possibilities this presents.. :P

The works

2009-07-23T00:42:00.000-07:00

I oughta be at work today. And I would be, if I weren't feeling so shitty. I've no idea what makes me get sick so often, but I've a feeling it's got something to do with me being so mentally wrapped up in stupid problems - mine and other people's. But I don't know how reliable that is, 'cause I get sick anyway.

Never mind that.

I've been thinking about stuff.. just random things like how easy it is to mutilate my name.. I'd go from there to how easy it is to mutilate other stuff, but I don't want to ruin my newly re-humanized image.

And other stuff. Like, you know how you'd expect someone who writes all those steamy scenes in romances (yes, guilty as charged, I do read 'em) to be all dashing, and gorgeous and irresistible? But it turns out they aren't. Kudos to their imagination though.

Yet more stuff. Like how I don't want to think about where the hands that touch the same things I touch everyday have been. And how that just got me thinking about it.

I've got a little story I want to write.. it's been in the works for months now, but it just doesn't seem ready to emerge yet... and I'm scared of being like that over-zealous lady with the butterfly, who wanted it out in a hurry and ripped open the coccoon, only to have the butterfly die because it wasn't allowed to struggle its way out on its own. But I'm also worried that I don't drag it out, it'll stay in my head... much like the way I'd stay in bed if mom didn't drag me out.

So yeah, going to try and get something productive done... Not sure what my next post will be like, I'm awaiting the result with interest myself.

Hello

2009-07-19T10:45:00.000-07:00

You might've noticed this whole blog has been in the third person so far. In case you were wondering, which I doubt you were, 'cause no one seems to read this anyway, it was this way because I wanted to distance myself from the part of me that felt all those things.

This has been my venting blog for a while now, it's just that the venting takes a different form from F###F###F###F###!!! though that would be nice. I just can't make myself say the word unless I'm really sad or angry. Comes of living with your grandparents for too long, I guess. :D

Why, then, am I taking a break from the third person? Maybe because I want to make this my main blog. Maybe because the last few weeks have been difficult, and I want to connect with something, even if it's just a blog.

So, since I'm starting over, I thought I'd say hi. So. erm. Hi. *awkward wave*

I'm tired, I'm sad, I'm hurt. And I know I have to keep pretending nothing happened so I won't worry my family. I'll figure this out. I know I will.

The Darkness Returns

2009-07-18T16:29:00.000-07:00

She doesn't know how to begin. She takes a deep breath and tries to start over, but none of it makes any sense. She can't remember how this happened. How she ended up here, surrounded by people, feeling all alone again. She thinks it's funny that she's feeling this way, because all she remembers is a warm, fuzzy feeling of happiness, belonging... and then this.

She knows it's her fault, whether she did it consciously, or whether her subconscious was trying to re-create the environment which it'd been in most of her life. But she can't remember why or what, it's all just one huge blur. The wrong choices, people hurt.

She remembers pain. Overwhelming pain. Drowning in it, the flood consuming her, seeping through her, welcoming her back. She caused pain and that pain caused her pain. The knowledge that it couldn't be changed, that sometimes, there's just nothing for it but to leave, sinking in finally.

Laughter

2009-07-07T00:10:00.000-07:00

She tries to laugh. A harsh, guttural screech escapes her, mirthless. They look at her. She looks at them. They all know what comes next.

Continued here...

Hate

2009-05-15T21:37:00.000-07:00

She feels it throbbing through her veins, pulsing, intense.. She wants to tear apart the people who do this to them. They are the scum of the Earth.

She doesn't trust herself to speak. No, she's not afraid that she'd regret what she wants to say, she just doesn't want to allow them to see her lose control.

They leave.

She throws a glass at the wall, watching it as it appears to shatter in slow motion, splashing water everywhere.

Will be back

2009-05-04T02:51:00.001-07:00

Eventually. or in a month. or in 2 weeks. We shall see.

Revisiting

2009-04-15T14:29:00.000-07:00

She stands back, apart from herself, watching the thoughts coalesce. She sees them as she would see someone else's life. Scenes - colourful, picturesque events - happening as though they were a movie with a narrator talking unceasingly about one character's thoughts, feelings and motives.

One character. Herself.

She's not sure she likes this blend of her past and present. It's discomfiting, the way everything seems to flow so easily together until it's all a blur.

She wishes she could pause, let one idea roll around her mind, taste it and absorb it before moving on, but it refuses to be stilled, flowing seamlessly into the next image from something so irrelevant that it's a strain to try and find logical sequences in this train of thought.

Faces of old loves flash through her mind, sharing space with the awkward fumbling of lust-driven caresses. She remembers trying to stifle her laughter at the ridiculousness of the whole thing, knowing that she wouldn't be able to deal with the hurt and lack of comprehension in his eyes.

She sees it all again, as she did then, detached, aloof, refusing to surrender all of herself to the heat, the sweat, the urgency of the moment. She watches herself watch them, a story within a story.

She hears the commentary in her head and wonders if it's like that for him. Evaluating it critically, she doesn't think so. He appears lost in the growing tension between them. She knows she's in control and doesn't want to be. She wants him to force her out of herself. To make her stop thinking, stop judging them, debating the rights and wrongs of what they're doing - just to force herself to let go and to drown in the mindless passion that should be consuming them both.
She feels the tension growing, drawing her inescapably toward climax and wonders how she can still think -why she still can't let go. And then it's done.

Physically sated, she's still left with a gnawing sense of discontent - a nagging sensation that something wasn't quite right.

The thoughts run on, exploring other avenues, digging up old questions. She can't sleep.

Back and forth

2009-04-03T09:37:00.000-07:00

She sighs. Thoughts of him fill her mind, and she closes her eyes and lets her thoughts drift back to him, a small smile playing on her lips. He never fails to make her smile. Then why does she push him away, she wonders, thoughts of his impending departure pushing the smile off her face entirely.

She realises that she can't help it. Whenever he gets too close, she feels stifled. Claustrophobic, penned in by his sweetness, his similarity to her, everything that brought them together. She wishes she didn't feel that way - she's grateful for the good things, she knows... but what use is gratitude?

She's drawn to him... she loves all the little things that he does that make her feel so special. She doesn't want to let him go. But she knows that if he doesn't leave for a while, if they don't spend some time apart, she'll leave. It's almost as though the passion with which she's attracted to him pushes her away from him with its intensity.

And then she'd regret it.

Until the next one.

Rebirth

2009-03-27T10:03:00.001-07:00

She closes her eyes and slips into slumber but at the stroke of midnight, wakes. The darkness surrounds her, making her claustrophobic. She feels trapped. She closes her eyes to keep the darkness out, but that just brings it closer, into her. She sets it aside, makes it part of her, and yet apart from her.

She watches over it, nourishes it, makes it grow...

She watches and waits. Somewhere inside her there's a stirring. Something fighting free.

She lets go... and it is born.

Freedom's price

2009-03-13T14:07:00.000-07:00

She watches, jealous, as her other self flies free. Wishing she could go along, but tied to the murk that controls her mind. Writhing streamers of envy reach out after her higher self, who laughs as she evades the gloomy strands...

Just once, she would like to be the one that escapes. The one who tastes of the freedom and the joy. But she is trapped. Trapped by her lusts, her hatreds, even her loves. Her love of the light keeps her here; bound, so part of her spirit may remain free, unplagued by the demons tearing at her now.

Sacrificed to the darkness, she pleads with her alter-ego, begs for rescue from this cloying fog that surrounds her. But she is too far away, drowning in the mud of deception and death, while somewhere in the clouds, the joyous soul flies free.

She is free. She is trapped. She knows that the Light One is part of her, born of the consumation of her love of Beauty. But the cord has been cut, and Light One, nourished by all the power that she had to give, has taken wing.

She is left incomplete.

Alone.

Empty.

Defeated.

Witchcraft

2009-03-12T13:03:00.000-07:00

She knows what these witches can do to her. She has thirsted for their knowledge, longed to learn their craft. She sees the allure of the darkness they worship, perhaps better than some of them.

She would have been one of them, but threads of sanity hold her back. They tie her to her family, to love, to all things good. They keep her from releasing life, and embracing the darkness. So she clings to all that is pure, shutting out the demons, not letting them near.

She prays for redemption. Not really for her soul, but to ensure the safety of the ones who hold what's left of her heart.

She wakes...

2009-03-09T21:36:00.000-07:00

... to shame, guilt and fear.

Shame that she could forget herself, her values, her God.

Guilt that she could hurt those she loved. And enjoy it.

Fear that dreams will haunt her waking.

She dreams...

2009-03-09T21:21:00.000-07:00

.... of murder, of torment, of mutilation.

Blood is streaked through her dreams, glaring crimson through the night. She is repulsed, and yet revels in the river of gore.

Death is not to be feared, but welcomed. Pain... so much pain. Not just her own, but of those she loves. She sees it and feels nothing but a strange sense of elation at their sufferings distilled into her dreams.

She fears what she becomes, a Hyde wrested from her waking Jekyll. And yet, there is power. Such power she cannot resist. She needs to feel it fill her, strengthen her, infusing steel into her own blood. She drinks it in, glorying in its pulsing pungence.

Then she wakes.

In the dark...

2009-03-07T10:30:00.000-08:00

She lies there, and it surrounds her... Curling its fingers through her hair, tugging gently, teasing. It lies beside her, stroking, fingers against her skin, calling her name softly...

She pleads for it to leave her be, fears it, but is enthralled. Its voices whisper in her mind... drawing her in.

She feels that surrender will let it consume her, spread through her being, turn her mind to madness... and yet she wishes she could, to end the fear by being one with it.

You tell her it's a lie... and she wants to believe. That it's just her mind playing tricks on her. That the voices don't exist. That the allure of the darkness is not real.

But it's all a lie. You lie, though you know it not. The voices lie, a soothing facade for darker dreams...

Who am I?

2009-03-07T04:10:00.000-08:00

I am
what she fears...

Those insidious thoughts
that slither her way
through the depths of the night.

Those pestering prattlers,
the nagging doubts,
the clinging yearnings.

Will I grow
unwatched,
unheeded?

Or will
probing of
this darkness
spread it?

I am
the blood,
the guts,
the gore
of her psyche...

Yet,
I am
her.