Thankful? A Cynic's View on Gratefulness.

I know, I know, woe is me.  There's plenty of sadness and boo hoo-ness. I get it.  Suck it up and read my struggles to be thankful, because you're supposed to be....

Lately, I've found it very hard to be thankful.  But it has cause me time to reflect.  There are things that I am thankful for.

• I'm thankful for the people in my life that don't give up on me, the ones who like my kind of crazy, and the ones that are bystanders.  
• I'm thankful for my family, who support me always, even though I'm a shithead. 
• I'm thankful for my sweet dog who brightens my life.

Simple, basic, to the point (get it, bullet points?!? HA!).

Not so simple, c'mon this is me, you'd know by now it's never that simple.

There are much deeper things, things that are a multifaceted ball of bullshit that I am thankful for, so grab ahold of your soul before it blackens and read away.

1. Pain. 

As much as I pray for it to go away, I am thankful.  It means at one point, I felt love, and if I never feel it again, I am glad, that I felt it, if even for a moment.

2. Loss.

I'm thankful for my loss.  It saddens me, burdens me, and weighs me down.  It deepens the wound and furthers the depths of my depression, but I am thankful.  As much as I don't agree with it, as much as I want it back, as much as I want him, he didn't.  So I'm thankful, because this means happiness for him, and when you truly love someone, you want them to be happy - even if it means they won't be happy with you.  Typing these very words I'm holding my breath. 

The nausea turns in my gut and the breath is pressing hard in the empty cavern of my chest.  Tears streaming down my face, yet I will not make a sound.  It hurts, yes - but loss means I had something. I am thankful for one moment in time, I had something that was so beautiful, it hurts so damn bad to lose.

3. Memories.

I'm thankful for the memories that haunt me, the ones burdening my mind so I cannot seem to focus on the current reality I'm residing in.  How I can close my eyes and he's there, and I can smell him again, but as static ripples across a screen, I open them and it's just a memory. Memories, like the time he held me - our bodies carved from the same stone fit perfectly, like the puzzle piece I had so hoped he would be - and kissed me deeply, for the first time.  I died in that kiss. I died in knowing that was the last set I'd ever want to kiss.  Remembering his face the first time we made love, and how his soft blue eyes looked at me.

They haunt me every single day.  I try to not look him in the face when we speak, because it floods my mind.  Everything I love about him is right in front of me, and I can't touch it.  Wanting so badly for him to scoop me up like he had so many times, in those perfect arms of his, and hold me close - kissing my forehead.  Melting every ounce of pain or stress away.

I am grateful.  How wonderful is it to be constantly reminded of something you cannot get over? It's a fucking burden.  You want the light in the darkness? The I'm grateful because at least I was happy once. No, not happening. I am fucking miserable...

Crying out at night, lying on the floor, being tortured by the fact that this man you loved so much crushed what was left of your soul and it's all you've thought of every waking moment for the last month since he walked out of your apartment for the last time...

I'm lying. I am not thankful. I want it to stop, there's no light in this darkness because he was the light, and he left me, alone. I just want to feel nothing, nothing would be better than the constant nagging depression, the bouts of crying, the countless hours I've spent picking myself apart, wondering what I did wrong to lose him?

Was he ever really mine?

Be thankful. Be thankful for me, because I cannot.  I am not optimistic to be like "I'm alive, yey." No.  I'm not excited.  I'm alone, and still hurting and still praying that one day, someone will fucking just love me. Just put up with the fact I want to cook and bake and sing and dance, and cry with them.  I want to have a life with them...I just want someone to be my better half...give me a chance, and not give up on me.

Hug your friends, your family, your husbands and wives.  Hold them tight. Say you're sorry, don't fight about money, and be fucking grateful someone is there for you.  Because when you're like me, you sit alone at night wondering why you're alone.  You wonder why your husband is in prison and not sitting with you...wondering how you were blindsided by a complete lie he fabricated that you lived deep within...wondering how you made it out only to be used by every single man since.

You wonder if he thinks of you, if he's even sorry.

You wonder about J. The man you unwillingly fell for harder than bricks falling from the sky.  You wonder what he's thinking about and it's probably deer, or his mother.  I had so little room in his mind. And yet, you wonder why you still think of him...because every single thing about him just felt perfect...that's why.

You sit, and you dwell, and you cry.

So readers, this thanksgiving, be happy. 

You ungrateful fucks.

Love, loss and self destruction; a reflection.

Men.  I'm not sure why I keep trying, hoping that there will be one to live up to the extreme standards I have laid out for myself - but I do.  I hope he'll come, and we'll fall in love, and we'll cook dinner together, and go to brunch together...but he hasn't.  I'm beginning to understand maybe my path in life is to be alone, maybe it's what's in the stars for me.

When my husband shattered my world four years ago, it was a long hard road out of hell to come back from all the pain and heartache I had experienced.  I destroyed myself further during my healing process.  Drugs, alcohol, men, whatever could make me feel something other than the excruciating pain in my chest, the sting of the wind blowing through the hole he left deep within me.

My first experience was just awful...and unforgiving.  After a night of drunken debauchery, I had stayed with what I thought was my friend and her boyfriend.  The Xanax and alcohol had taken its toll on me and I was going to sleep it off.  The boyfriend's roommate said he had clothes I could sleep in.  I went to his room to get them and he shuts the door.  He insists I sleep in his room, I say I'd rather stay on the couch and he should just give me the clothes.  Somehow I ended up in the bed, after changing in front of him, all the while him gazing upon my body as if I were an English breakfast spread across the table for an orphan child.  "You're so beautiful."  Drugged and exhausted, I just wanted to sleep.  I laid in his bed.  Dozing in and out of consciousness.  He kissed me all over, kissed my mouth, he tasted like cigarettes and old booze.  He was a gross, greasy mess - fat and balding.  Fighting as best I could with steadily increasing loss of motor control, he eventually had his way with me, all 36 seconds of it.  Just enough time for him to intrude my body and squeal in delight at how I felt before he fell over fat and spent.

I lie awake crying silently, violently shaken from my drugged stupor, the dim lights still hazy.  I waited til he was fast asleep.  I took more pills, and then I snuck out of his room, which oddly enough was attached to his child's room, and the sight of her pink toys strewn about her dirty child like bedroom made me violently ill.   This was not what I wanted for myself.

The second, a marine, at the restaurant I worked out.  Our sex was filthy, disgusting, and he was very pig like.  To him, I must have been a goddess.  To me, I was a broken destroyed pathetic human with little to no self worth left within me, not after what happened.  Later I came to find our fling was not as private as I had hoped, and he was also cheating on his girlfriend/fiance with me.  I was the other woman, and it wasn't ok to me.  Why I picked the ugliest, most wretched, vile affair I could have for my first freeing experience, I'll never know.  Maybe I was too damaged to see what was unfolding in front of me.  Soon things became public and I lost my pathetic job.

He was the first step in my self destruction and dissolution of any hope I had for myself.  Next it was a long stretch of late nights trapped in bars, drinking away my pain...dancing, taking pills, smoking, whatever it could be to feel numb.  Sought after the attention of men, but never took on any advances, I just enjoyed the attention.  I had become everything I had ever hated.  Those sad pathetic girls, drinking til their makeup melts off, sweaty thrusting bodies in a crowd of desperation.  I filled this hatred with bouts of crying in bathrooms, and shots of whiskey.

Then one fateful night, many months later, I had gone out for just a girls evening.  I stumbled across this gorgeous vibrant cocky son of a bitch, who decided to flirt and insult me at the same time...I was taken aback by his ways.  He kissed me long and hard on the dance floor.  He wore a cobalt blue shirt, a vest and slacks, as if he had just left homecoming and snuck in to hang with the adults.  I thought he was the shit.  Finally an attractive funny guy, who was so hard to get, I wanted it.  Shortly after meeting, we started seeing each other and then was our sex.  I should have known the first night we met it was not going to be a smart choice.  Then again, my head wasn't on right, and I was not concerned with anything that could be remotely considered a red flag.

He stayed at my house.  I told him to sleep on the couch...of course that didn't happen.  Whatever, he slept in my bed.  I woke up and rolled over to see him, shirtless...and very sexy.  Tattoos covered his body, he had piercings, and jet black hair, a strong jaw line...he was in my bed, and he was hot.  I seemingly forgot how he arrived there, but I leaned in and kissed his nipple, smelling him and taking it all in before rolling over and passing back out...all to be woken up with his hand down my pants trying to penetrate me. I slapped him away.  Did I not see the clear violation? No.  We dated for two years.  Finally ended when he beat me and broke my ribs.

After him where three other flings and then I quit...my healing had become apparent.  I hated myself and broke down.  I wanted to change, I wanted to stop being an object.  I wanted someone who wanted me for more than my body.

Then there was him.  My prince charming, tall and handsome, and good.  Riding a white steed...I pined after him for a year before we got together, and well, as we've read, the rest is history.  He was my one.  The one I had prayed for.  The forgiveness I sought to be able to have such a man, my dream guy. I prayed for everything...begged.  Then he was mine, or so I thought.

I've spent the last month trying to get over this loss, thinking I had finally healed from all the shit I put myself through.  I've worked hard over these four years and these many flings to become a stronger woman, an independent woman who has fought for everything she has.  I've finally reached something close to content with myself.  I wanted someone finally who would be good to me, who I could take care of.  Someone to just be with.  Someone to fall in love with.

I did. He didn't.  And that's how my story goes.  I finally worked over my demons.  I sought forgiveness, I changed my life.  This wonderful man comes in, when I was content being alone.  I thought it was a sign. I thought...

Well I was wrong. He was the second man I've ever loved.  The first being my deceitful husband who sent me into the spiraling abyss of madness and chaos.  J - the second, and truest man I've known, left me sobbing on my couch, and walked out of my life as my lover, forever...and he's gone, and as much as sadly, desperately I've tried, he's not coming back.  There's no working it out.  He does not love me, and I cannot make him.

Nor can I make this void in my chest full again.  I feel I've finally lost it...I've lost my will to love, I don't think I can again.  It's too trauma inducing, it's too painful.  I'm never loved in return.  At this point in my life, I'm too afraid for another goodbye....

Goodbye J.

"I just don't love you.  I've tried, I've waited, I've given us a shot, but it's just not there."

That's how my love story ended.  October 23rd, 2014.  After all the heartache I have come to find, he was there.  It was his eyes that caught mine.  His very being was so fulfilling in the void I had carved in myself.  I yearned for him for a year before we went on our first very nerve racking date.

He was everything to me.  I could kiss his lips forever, and in my mind, I knew that they were the last ones I would kiss.  Our bodies fit together as if they were carved for each other.  I felt better around him.  All this whirlwind bullshit that encompassed me was abruptly ended by the fact he felt none of those things.
My heart still aches.  It hurts every single day.  I'm just supposed to pick up and move on. "You either get married, or you break up, that's how it works" I've been told...I've been told to many times I'll be ok.  Life goes on. Whatever dumb shit people say.

The problem lies in the fact I've waited so very long to feel that way for someone again...I didn't think I could, and when I prayed, yes folks, actually prayed, for each thing in our relationship from beginning to end, it was answered with yes.  I thought possibly after all I had been through, this was my blessing....I honestly felt it, and in a snap, it was gone.

All that's left to do now, obviously, is to look inward.  I have to analyze every single fiber of myself.  I want to be loved. I don't like being alone.  I'm not outgoing, but god damn I am fucking lonely.  I used to be fine with my isolation, but when he came along, and lit me on fire, my heart was so thrilled to be connected to another.
I miss being held.  I miss kisses on my forehead...jokes that we had...all gone.  How does one move on from it?  When you love someone so much everything including their flaws are perfect to you? I mean, he was SUPER skinny, he had a strange patch of fur above his belt line, and a very, very large nose, all of which, to me, were endearing.

Apparently my quirks weren't for him.  There was nothing about me he adored.  It's such a painful realization.  I don't know how to move on...and it hurts. SO. FUCKING. BAD.

The last time this pain hit me, it took months for me to be willing to move on, and years for me to try again, and lots of drugs and alcohol to drown it out.  I don't want that.  It never stopped hurting I don't believe, which is why this one is so great, it's like reopening an old wound, freshly scarred over.  The old pain turned into bitterness which I still harbor to this day even though I want so very badly to let it go.

This man was special to me, so very special my mind cannot comprehend what's actually going on, and I don't want to hate him to be able to move on.  I want to just stop feeling, but I can't.  I can be completely fine and then all the sudden, I start crying and I cannot control it.  I feel as if my soul finally found it's mate and he was ripped away from me by the cosmos.

Now, I'm wandering around lost...trying to find solace from this pain that's filled me once again.  I've finally understood the weight of this situation and his feelings toward me.  It is over, and I have to move on.

As I sat on my couch after hours of us talking and me crying, and my unsightly panic attack on the floor, him sitting with his head in his hands, eyes reddened from letting me down, it - us, and our conversation came to a close. With tears streaming down my face, he stood, left my house for the last time, and as I sat shaking staring at the floor in complete disbelief of what was actually happening. He said goodbye,  and took with me, the last of my heart I had to give.

Goodbye was the tragic end of what I thought would be true love, finally.  Goodbye means it's a month later, and he's already forgotten me. I'm no longer emotionally connected to him, and I am just another person in the crowd.

I wish I had that switch to turn off these tears.

Goodbye meant he was finished.  Goodbye meant, I wasn't done fighting.

He's gone.

Goodbye, J.

A new lease on my selfishness....

There's been a lot going on in my life, most of which I've vocally complained about to my loving boyfriend.  Most of which he cringes at.  I see his face twist when certain things come out of my mouth.  It's like word vomit.  I cannot control it.  Lately, however, I've realized I can.  I've got to control my mouth, and my attitude, before it destroys us.

Why am I so vile? Why is my bitterness still seeping through when right in front of me stands the man that I adore.  I still have setbacks, yes. There are still things that keep my lying awake at night, yes.  However, I know that I love this man, and that he makes me happy, despite his flaws, and certain things about him that drive me bananas.  I'm fully aware I have many flaws and ticks that make him itch, so I suppose it's equal.

But I do not want this man to look upon me for my bad.  I want him to know, understand, and accept it, yes, but I am more than that.  I am me.  I am good, and kind, and loving, and nurturing.  I have a fowl mouth, yes.  I cuss like a sailor and sometimes I drink like one too.  But that part of me has been winding down, because my body is telling me to slow down, to fall in love, to focus it's energy on caring for someone, and not pain suppression.

I want him to look at me, and smile, and his heart warms because I am there.  My negativity and the fact I have no hold on letting it loose is affecting us, it stresses him.  I need to be stronger and more positive.  I need to sometimes scream in my car instead of unload my negative thoughts and emotions on him.

Things are all up in the air.  I don't know what's going on.  I do know what is now.  Him.  He is here, and I love it, and I want to nurture it with love and happiness...

So what is all this stuff exactly going on in my life? Well my boss, the VP of my company, the man who trained me and got me ready for my career here, decided last week to tell upper management he was resigning.  I was the first to find out ... because I have been trying to transfer from engineering to HR, so that my relationship can have less of a strain on it. (Fall in love with your supervisor, not such a good thing)

I was elated, at first.  This meant that my BF was most likely going to take that position of lead engineer, and then our strain would be greater, but since the only thing holding me back from transferring was to leave in another week, it was going to work out!  It was good news! Then the possibility that the BF could get his due raise, and respect from the engineering department was another good thing. All these good things rushing through me, assuring me that it was going to help me. 

That's where I went wrong.  It was all geared to me.  When was I actually thinking of him?  This entire time, he's been riddled with stress, and burdened with the work of a man who ran a company for the past twenty years and just up and left one day...dropping everything on someone who's only known this twenty year baby (the company) for two.

I didn't realize how stressful it was going to be.  How much of a strain it's going to put on us, because now he's the one in charge. He's the one responsible, he's the one dealing with twenty years of back logged BS and a bunch of quick handovers because the VP didn't have the common decency to help make a transition a little easier and give maybe, say a month or two's notice. This very well could be a strain on us.  But I need to be there for him, the kind nurturing woman I want to be.

Then there's the other shit in my life going on.  My sick selfish mind, tormenting me...Is there a future with this man?  It's been weighing heavy on my mind so much.  It's burdened me, and made me feel guilty, and ashamed for even thinking it...but I'm only human. 

Yes I love him.  I adore him, really, even though some of his ways have become overly annoying recently.  

The fact he is his mother's caregiver, and lives with her, makes me feel like we will never have a life together.  In no way do I look down on what he does, as it is commendable, and show his selflessness. The kind of man I would want.  However, how can he care for me, if we can't date normally? How is marriage even a possibility if he lives with his mom? How can we even think of starting a family, if he can't even live his own life?

I see him stressing over the house not being picked up or things being in a certain way - his mother's / father's way.  The yard needed tending to, his projects, his hobbies, the stuff he's accumulated to fill his empty time as he's been single for the past 7 or 8 years.  He's lost his father, which puts so much on him, and while his brother married, moved away and began a life of his own, and his sister moved out to have her own life, all the responsibility has been placed upon his fragile shoulders.

His ways that are set at his tender 33 years of age, are not even his own.  He hasn't developed a system, a household of his own, that he can enjoy.  An apartment, or what have you of his own stuff, his own ideas and decorations, and ways of doing things.  He's yet to do this.

And I sometimes stress over the fact that he will never do it.  We will never have our system, because he'll be trapped in the one set for him when he was a child.  I admire him taking care of his mother.  But what a tough and touchy situation.  Does he take care of her for the rest of her life, sacrificing his own?  Does he begin his own, including her in it? How does  he do that? Where does she live, who will cook for her and clean her house and what's to be done?  Does she go to a home? No.  He would never have it.

So here's where my train stops.  Where do I fit in? How does our relationship even become substantial enough for me to imagine a future and hope that man becomes the father of my children one day? How do I dream and picture our house, and the memories we make, when we've yet to be able to make them now?

He's in my life - but I'm not in his, much.  His life consists of so much more other than me, and I'm afraid, it will always be so, and I'm afraid, maybe, that it just will not happen for us.

I want to believe that it just will be ok and we'll move in together and cook together, and DO together...Establish dinner nights, taco Tuesday, big Sunday dinners, sometimes a brunch...a specific date night...movies on the couch, a life together  - normalcy.  I know that's so far from what will happen any time, that it's starting to whittle me down.

I've been left to believe that after my husband destroyed me, and my life, that it wasn't meant to be, and that one day, I would meet a man who I could have that life with.  Here I am facing 30, and I feel like my window is closing....and I don't know why I can't just stop and be happy for today...for last night when he laid his head on my lap and I played Skyrim and then we went to bed, and woke up and got ready for work together. 

The now.  The little moments I DO have with him.  It makes me feel like a horrible person for thinking about  these things...but I can't control it.

I just signed another year lease at my apartment...it was a big deal for me.  I was actually leery on signing another year lease at my place, because "what if" we were to move in together? Silly of me to even get up in arms over it...I actually stressed.  I laughed later, signed the lease, and realized I would be there, with my puppy living MY life, for a very long time.  "Ours" has yet to become...it has yet to start.

Selfishness, is a dirty thing.  I want to scrub til my skin is raw.

I love him.  He's worth it. Be grateful. Just repeat it...and breathe.  Someday, I will have the love I want. Someday....even if only in my dreams, I will have it.

I'm just tired of carrying this burden alone.I have to believe.  

And this kids, is why you don't fall in love....

I've suffered some pretty gut wrenching pain when it comes to my love life.  I lost a husband I never really had, had a slew of bad relationships, topped off with men who only used me because I was vulnerable and needed to feel something other than the unbearable pain inside that was consuming me.

It did consume me.  It turned me into something I wasn't or couldn't ever dream of becoming.  A vile needy, saddened broken being who just needed to be hugged, or listened to, or kissed.  It brought with it poison and poisonous people, self destruction, and countless hours of crying and many, many drinks consumed in a vapid attempt to dilute the pain, for I knew by this point I couldn't wash it away.

I finally began to accept my loneliness and tried to focus on myself, and healing.  I tried to be happy with me, and being alone and spending my time on myself and projects that I had created for myself.  I began to try to be happy.  It did not, change the fact however, that I was still alone, and still craving human connection on a deeper level than facebook, or friendship or even the closeness of sex could offer.

Then there was him.  This guy I had admired, and looked at forever, wondering what it would be like to be near him, just to talk about life, and look at the stars, and hold hands with him...what it would be like to be loved by someone, anyone, had been my curiosity, but he sparked my interest, most of all.  His overall put-togetherness was something very appealing, he was very attractive, and his arms, they just seemed so loving, like the kind I could find solace in....I know call me a dreamer, me finding solace in a man's arms.

Then it happened, by chance, by fate, by God - I thought...we went on a date.

A mutual friend person of ours finally hooked us up.  Since our first date, it seemed as though we were inseparable.  He was always anxious to see me, and his eyes lit up.  He treated me like I was something, like I was worth something and then I finally began to realize, I was, and it wasn't me, it was all these people I let influence my reflection of myself that made me feel I wasn't.

The day he told me he loved me came as quite a surprise.  He had hinted toward getting feelings for me, but this was a full out confession.  His feelings came strong and fast and I was overwhelmed.  It was real, it felt real.  Was it happening? Was I finally being loved for the first time by a man?  I cried in his arms at the news, and told him not to say that to me, because so many others had before, and they didn't mean it. 

I kept those words.  I let them run through my heart and fill my body with joy -overwhelming joy that this man who I could just let go and be myself with, loved me.  It was unbelievable.  So I dove in, I let  go, and I let myself my fragile, eager, damaged and fearful self, fall in love.

We had a wonderful budding romance, it seemed to be moving perfectly along, slowly we became intimate, sweetly we grew.  Nothing felt forced or wrong, it was all such a blessing to me.  Being in his arms alone brought such warmth and comfort to me.

Then it happened, as all things do in life, it changed.  Something in him changed, and caused him to withdraw, to step back, to take those words back from me, like I didn't deserve them.  His reasons were his own, I tried to make sense of it all, being it was all such a shock to me, yet here I was crying in my SUV with him next to me, staring, blankly, giving no explanation as to why he couldn't muster up the love he once had for me again, and how did it go so quickly?

I wanted too much.  I expected too much.  I felt too much.  IT was all too much. What an excuse.

I want to be sure, is all he could say.  And suddenly all my comfort and warmth was gone, and it's left me with this hole.  It's filled me with doubt and self loathing.  He still wants to do stuff with me, he wants a relationship with me but he's just not sure about those feelings he seemingly so happily once gave.

I'm trying for the sake of us, and what I dreamed we could be to push it down, and away from my mind.  But it's clogging me, it's draining the hope from my body.  It's that little fear inside screaming "You'll never be good enough, no one will ever love you, happiness isn't deserved to you!"

It's always been there.  Now it's taking over and for everything I want I can't stop it.  Why, why did he take my happiness? Why steal the sunshine from my skies?  Why am I not good enough?  I can't be the girl that sweeps someone off their feet? There is nothing enamoring about me?

It's painful, yes.  But he's still here, wanting a relationship.  And I'm here still trying to fake a smile and pretend that I'm not mortally wounded, but I am.  I'm lost in a big ball of confusion and I feel hurt.  I don't know what else to feel, but my heart still aches, and I feel like my trust for him was in vain.  My mind is producing vivid dreams wrapped in fear and waking me in my sleep, it's all just become so painful and misleading - nothing like what it started....effortless and true, and loving.  Where everything just felt magical, and right.

Fucking Disney.  I suppose there never is magic.

Still, I love his eyes, those that once looked so calmly at me with a sweetness to them.  I just want to look into them.  His lips I knew were the only lips I wanted to ever kiss again. But me, he had to take a step back.  Because he wanted to be sure.  Because nothing about me screamed to him, yep.  She's worth it. And God damn it, I want to fucking be worth it already. It hurts to be alone.

And that is what kills me.  After all I've been through and all I've prayed for, I still can't find someone to just love me, and be like, yep, it's her, and she's all I need. The fact he has to stop and think, reminds me, I'm not special. And only reinforces those negative fears and feelings I have.

And here  I sit, crying, scared, and love unrequited.

It's official...I'm stuipidly, madly, insanely in love....

Hearts will shiver, thighs will quiver...this man is a giver.

My boyfriend is better than yours, simply because he's mine. I digress...let me tell you of this magic man that has ignited fire so deep within me, so intense that I'm a trembling excited mess every time he's near....read on if you care...           

             I've struggled, deeply.  My struggle has broken me..  It's devoured me and made me feel as if I'd never be the same again, that much is true. I am no longer the person I used to be.  It's not necessarily a bad thing.  I've come so far in learning to love myself, and who I am and what I can handle.  I've lost, made mistakes, grown and done everything in between.

            My struggle is not who defines me, it's only a shadow of who I am.  A fraction, a moment in the existence of my life.  There are many moments, however that mean something to me.  Meeting him, is one of those very moments, and what I honestly believe my struggle to be all for.  Everything I've endured in this life, every mistake I've made, and every tear I've cried has led me to him.

            I'm blessed beyond measure with a man who can only exceed my expectations of what I could wish for.  He, to me is perfect, and he is my reward.  Loving him, and taking care of him could only be an honor and something I could have only dreamed up. He is my prince charming and he rode in on his white steed and whisked me away from my pain and into a dreamlike state of passion and love.

            This man is tall, and strong.  His eyes are blue and soft, glistening with the traces of melancholy and hopeful optimism. They're lined with lashes that extend to the sky, and they look at me and sparkle with love and happiness.  His hair is thick and soft, a golden shade of blonde that glistens in the sunlight...it's well groomed and neat, as his appearance is tidy, and well kept. 

            His smile is something that lights up my very existence.  It's slightly perfect, and his thick luscious lips open wide, revealing his white teeth and sometimes a tip of his tongue if he's in laughter.  His chest is modest, yet muscular, and softly lined with hair that is not offensive or too covering of the curve of his breast.  His hands, are delicately large. Slim, long fingers, and wide palms, that gently yet strongly grab my face each time we kiss, the hands that comfort me, stroke my hair, the ones connected to the perfect pair of arms, that hold me ever so gently.

            Physically, to me, he is ideal, obviously.  Mentally, he is even more.  His personality lights the fire in me.  We connect in a very real way, as if we've known each other for our entire lives.  Our thoughts are the same, and being like minded is such a wonderful feeling.

            We laugh together, he's smart, he listens, and he actually hears me.  I've learned more about love, and I'm talking true down and dirty honest love, in the two short months we've been seeing each other, that I can only imagine what is to come. He's the man I want to live with, cook with, grow with, learn from, dance with in the moonlight, go on adventures with, start a family with.  He's my missing puzzle piece and every part of him fits me.  He knows everything about me, and my past and my hopes and dreams, and struggles, and he accepts me.  He appreciated me at my worst, loved me, and continues to prove how amazing he is by treating me with such love and respect and supporting me, it's simply magical to be accepted, and loved for just being you!

            I've been so wrapped up in love I cannot even put into words what it feels like, because it's something I've never known. I've never felt something so earth shatteringly real.  When he kissed me, the first time, we were a little buzzed after a night of nervously drinking on our first date, to which he immediately asked for a second; the next day.  It was an excited relieved overzealous kiss on both our parts.  However, the next day, we had our second date, to which he introduced me to his closest friends, to my surprise and excitement.  After a wonderful time, he took me home and we had nervous conversation until he left.  Then he kissed me... Our first, sober real kiss, not full of drunken excitement.  He grabbed me close, came in slow and when his lips touched mine, they were so soft and sweet, and they fit.  He kissed me slow and deeply, and it was long and loving and sweet, and instantly my heart leaped in my chest.  It was then, in that moment when our lips fit together, and the soft magic exploded between them, I knew, I knew they were the last lips I'd ever kiss.

            And since then, I've kissed those lips many times, and every single time, I get that magic.  When he holds my hand, I get that magic.  He ignites something so deep within me,  I never even knew it was there.  And each day, I fall more and more in love with him.  He is what I want, what I've always hoped for, and I only see him, all day, every day, us and nothing else.

            When we make love it's something so special. I am completely enveloped in him.  I'm lost in his arms and his kiss, it's a passion so deep that's burned for so long, it's something so hard to handle, yet so pleasurable  and surreal.  He looks deep into my eyes, and I into his.  Those soft blues scan the inches of my body as his hands follow each curve and edge.  Exploring, caressing, kissing.  It's love, it's soft and new and intense. 

            His hands explore my body his eyes focused on me, he kisses me, and then I lose myself completely in his arms and it is until the explosions in my chest calm, and the quivering between my wet thighs have subsided that I open my eyes to realize where I am and where I've just came from.  I open my eyes to be met with his, slightly smiling at me, then he kisses me deeply as I calm my shaking body, his hand slides out from my legs and he moves slowly to caress my breasts and kiss them delicately.  He grabs me, pull me close and then it's him surrounding me holding me, and coming into me so swiftly as he watches my every muscle in my face shiver with delight.  Slow and steadily, he goes deep within me as he lays himself down to kiss me, and hold me completely.  I'm still trembling from the moments before, and quickly he brings me back.  His face tightens then softens with pleasurable release as we come together.

            Sometimes there's passion filled laughter afterwards, sometimes its kisses followed by my giggles, sometimes it's us quietly taking in what we feel and what the other is feeling, silently laying in our release and love and admiration of each other in that very raw and intimate moment, and mostly it's a mixture of them all, and sometimes if I'm lucky it's round two, or three....

            Boisterous laughter bellows from within me when we wake up in the morning, kissing cuddling, playing, joking.  It's the absolute best feeling in the world, and it's love, pure and simple, and raging.

            It's a safe sensuality he brings me, a safe area for me to be, to speak, to feel.  I feel as though I have him by my side, nothing can get me down.  He is the man I've dreamed of, prayed for, and come to.  I've never thought such passion could come from me.  I never thought I could love anyone.  I never thought anyone would ever love me...as no one ever has.  No one has ever loved me, truthfully, actually loved me.

            This man loves me, I feel it down to the core of my being.  I love him so. A thousand times yes will I say to him I'll stay.  He makes me safe, and there's no place I'd rather be, than lying in his arms, walking by his side, and being completely surrounded my him.  He can swallow my life whole and I'll drown in those soft blue eyes of his, and never look back.

            He is my other half, and there is nothing that can convince me otherwise.  How in only two short months can two people develop such magic? Such fiery passion?  I dare not question. I'm only here to feel and enjoy what moments I have with this man, and the future he's promised will come, but it is today that I have, today that I know, and I know one thing....

...Today, his lips are mine.

injustice

I am my own injustice...

   Stupid, stupid girl, you do it to yourself. You stupid girl. 

I am the chaos that surrounds me.

I am simply, a girl desperately seeking a better fulfillment of what she honestly believes she deserves.  I am a five year old girl, crying out.  Inside, I'm still her.  I'm still twirling my skirt and blindly throwing myself at the world.  Yet outside, I am this adult who is fully aware of the situation I am throwing myself into.  I'm fully aware of the harm I've caused, and fully aware of the torment bestowed upon me.  Inside I'm throwing this tantrum screaming so loudly it drowns out my thoughts.  Outside I am merely a woman who's locked inside her mind.  Quiet, secretive, and very, very lonely.

I will recklessly seek love until it's mine, and then I will systematically destroy what I have worked so hard to hold; for this is my destiny.

To always be the girl who waits;

 for the thing she believes she doesn't deserve.