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.

a little birdy told me...

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my unofficial grip on reality.

My disease only masquerades as happiness, for I can never truly feel it, or trust that it is, in fact a real feeling....

Pt 1. Getting a grip.

Gripping my throat and holding tight, it pulls me under, forces me down and holds me under water until my head is light and dizzy.  I slip into unconsciousness for and unknown amount of time and awake, groggy, cold, confused.  What day is it?  Where have I been?  Why the hell is it freezing in this place? 

That sick feeling lingers in my stomach for days, maybe weeks.  I was forcefully drowned and taken advantage of, I feel it still on my skin, the guilt, the pain, the tremendous need to feel something -,  anything other than the physical pain of this depression that has raped my mind and body.

Distractions now become more prominent.  Hours spent indulging in video games, lucid ideas of what  I could do to make my apartment different than it is, anything to change everything that is current, but no action.  I distractedly choose between pink or grey, forcing myself to forget that inner disgust.  Constantly holding my breath hoping it will prevent the tears from pouring from my eyes.  Staring blankly at my computer screen lost in my thoughts, sinking further and further into a whirlwind of sadness and anger.

Finale; a time for rest.

Sleep comes, as my medicated eyes cannot control their movements any longer.  I drag myself to my pleasantly lit room, to start the beginning of the same movie I've tried to watch for three weeks, and drift quickly to a corpse like sleep, cold and dreamless.  It is over so quickly, almost as if it never happened.

Pt 2. The uncontrollable pursuit of happiness

I awake tired as always, forcing myself up and out of my only comfort.  After the morning wash I notice my eyes sparkling and the uncontrolled widening of my pupils.  A sudden warmth comes over me and my cheeks flush slightly.  A minor self indulgence takes place as I take in my reflection; feeling a sharp sudden jolt of infatuation.  Today I wear a blue shirt, bright and happy, with green birds, ever so joyfully placed around.  Pink scarf.  Primary green jacket, bright socks.  My makeup was effortless, and I'm excited for the day.  Excitedly running around and completing every task on my list, I've become productive.  My mind has become a less clouded raging torrent full of ideas and void of any emotion but this false happiness I have no control over.  I've force fed laughter out of myself into the world.  I'm smiling as though there is no control.  Now I want to paint and sing, maybe dance and visit a friend...after all, there is so much to discuss! Organization takes over, through wild bursts of energy.  I talk incessantly, with quick sporadic thoughts of life the universe and everything in between.

Pt 3. It's back...the one thing that never leaves me,

 the only thing that never forgets.

This effortless forced joy lasts for about eighteen hours before my throat is tightened yet again and I am forced to drown in the pool of unwanted sorrow.  I manically build a put off project for however long it's been sitting there, and from the time a song changes to another, my mascara has already stained my face, dripped to my shirt and I've began the vicious spiral of self loathing and pain.

I wonder how long it will last this time?

I'm not bad, I'm just drawn that way...

Pt. 1 - Indulgence

Mid morning at my office, I'm sipping coffee.  Distracted, I try to focus.  But the lingering sensation of what has come to pass still tingles within me.  I can still smell him on my skin. I can taste his flesh still with each exhale. 

Turning to walk, the air fills my nostrils with his scent, and the reminder of what we did in the dark, early hours of the morning...

I'm filled with regret and hatred again, for allowing him to do this, but how can I not? How can I turn down the most amazing thing I've ever felt? Because I'm a good person? Because I have morals? NO, I cannot, for I am weak and frail and he is strong and tan and his smell, it's intoxicating...

I can't get his scent off of me.

It's as if they know, anyone, everyone, what was done this morning...all I can do is think of her, and why he's sneaking back to me a year later....for "fun".  She's not fun? Does she not fulfill you?

Apparently not, that was found out previously amid early morning haze and opening my eyes to see a picture of her on the nightstand and myself; naked, sprawled on him....

Guilt has not overwhelmed me yet, for I still smell him, and I can almost feel him again.  My hatred for him cannot distract from the flashbacks of a few hours ago, the explosions of pleasure between my thighs, and his eyes, reddened with a night of drinking, icy blue like my heart, looking back up at me..

The guilt I fear will not come.  There is no better lover than him.

Oh what have I done? 

“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.” 
― Federico García Lorca, Blood Wedding and Yerma

Pt. 2 - Regret

Later, I look into the eyes of the one who is unattainable.  The one I pine after day after day like a school girl. Wanting to cook dinner with him, and watch movies, have grown up conversations and eat dinner with our grown up friends....oh what a silly thought, to have something substantial.  Thinking to myself, you dirty little slut, why would he ever want you?  The one who I would want to love, the model man to love me in return.  I have filled that void in my soul of wanting a good man to love - knowing full and damn well I cannot have - him by filling the void between my legs and covering up the fact I want love.

Then I ponder a quick love or sex thought.  If it were to boil down to me settling for one or the other, I'd choose sex, good sex.. 

Reasoning for this is beyond me, albeit my own. I've become accustomed to loneliness.  I almost revel in it.  I enjoy a quick romp in my princess pink room, rolling around in my flowered sheets with the boy of the moment.  It's become too easy...it's become to easy to be disconnected from any form of human emotion and delve deeper into the animalistic need for pleasure.

The worst part of it all, is I don't feel any remorse for my actions.  I'm just setting up my own catastrophe, but what a sexy, tingling, toe curling catastrophe it is.  It's hindering me from attaining the only thing I believe I cannot get... 

A vicious cycle I suppose I would stop if someone where to step up to the large plate that is loving me.

These thoughts rest not on my weary mind today....today, it's early morning guilt free pleasure from the one man that can ignite flames from within, and feeling myself fall limp.... Today it's his smell lingering on me...

Today, I wear him like the scarf around my neck.

Beyond Humbug

Merry Fucking Christmas.

The overwhelming sadness looming over my head and possessing every inch of my thought process is only a mere reminder it's that time of year again.  Holiday time.  The time of supposed joy filled giving and family love and all that holly jolly bullshit. 

I'm quite a cynic (I know you couldn't tell) and for me this is the biggest slap in the face time of year.  People fighting in stores over a stupid toaster, shopping until your account explodes, baking, entertaining, and faking a smile for the so called loved ones. 

Deep down it's a bitterness in everyone, a dreaded event, a false joy.  No one is truly happy until the event is actually arrived so they can witness their pride gift wrapped bow and ribbon, be shredded open to give 10.25 seconds of joy to someone who then proceeds to rip the next pride filled box.  We beam with joy at our glorious bounty while we wrap ever so carefully what we hope is happiness in a box.

Then there is the overzealous Christian-Christmas keep Christ in Christmas debate, blindly yelling about the birth of their sweet fairy tale baby, still not realizing this is a pagan holiday, even more so exaggerated by the amount of gifts we buy, not the amount of "praise" and "hallelujah" bullshit it's claimed to be about.  It's not about Jesus, folks.  It never was.  Get over it, and don't get me started on Jesus, or religion or the idea that a magic man is supposed to save me for being exactly how he created me - a spiteful, unlucky, bitch.

My happiness doesn't come in a box, nor from giving, since I've become so broke and in debt these days I can't afford my light bill much less giving other people what I cannot yet find myself.  My sadness however, sits around a beautifully lit tree, with sparkles and baubles strategically placed.  It lures in the couples strolling arm and arm two paces behind the shopping crowd while they enjoy their evening.  It sits empty under my tree I regretfully put up.  Its stronger, harder, and more intense like the bionic man of emotion.

It's the loneliness I feel when I bake my most delicious of creations, only to cut myself one slice and throw the rest away.  It's the pain in my heart when I wake to find the hopeful companion I brought home the night before has left.  It's the regret I feel missing out on my twenties.  No socialization, no friends to call, just a bitter old late twenty something woman and her dog.

It sneaks up on me at work while I sit with my plastic face that fakes a somewhat normal happiness, breaking my train of thought and sending me spiraling into a whirlwind of red-faced emotion.   It never leaves, it's always here, that sick reminder that I'm alone and have yet to even remotely find someone to talk to, but during the holidays, it's plastered all over every single shiny ornament, every neatly wrapped gift, and every fuzzy blanket I'll sit under alone.  It's worse.

Today is my company Christmas party.  People are walking around with excitement for the feasting and socializing.  Their loved ones and children will be here.  There's gonna be gifts and Santa and families.  And me, holding up the wall watching everyone else as I wallow in my self-loathing.

Hopefully there will be alcohol. 

I wish everyone a Merry Christmas, a safe holiday, and all the joy I know I will never get.  I also wish you'd stop rubbing it in my damn face, because it's cold and tears burn more in the winter.

I'll wrap my drear miserable existence up in a bow and I'm gonna press on, and I'm gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney on Christmas, he's gonna find the jolliest neurotic manic depressed mess this side of the nuthouse.

Hallelujah!  Holy Shit.

Where's the Vicodin?

thoughts on overcoming my sadness....

"Don't just live your life, build one."

This was said by Ashton Kutcher at the Teen Choice Awards this year.  Now as I don't watch said awards, and it's been quite a while since I have, I did, however, come across this on the internet, on a forever a child type website, ironically.  

It stuck out to me, and I really liked the quote and the meaning behind it. I was semi proud of Ashton for making said quote as well, seeing as we all view him as some suedo stoner/dumbass.  The "Jobs" biopic must have really got to him.  Either way, I started to reflect inwardly and decided it was time to get my hammer and nails.

Three years ago, is when my life came tumbling down on me.  Fresh Prince of Bel-Air style, got flipped turned upside down. (I know you just sang that in your head, I did as I wrote it.)  It's been the hardest thing I've ever had to go through in my life, and has been an unintentional crutch for me as well.  While most things were directly related to that, I always seemed to fall back on it, not even for the negatives going on in my life, but the lack of positive things, and that's where it got me.

I blamed my failed relationships on it, my inability to succeed, my lack of friends, bad days, etc.  You see, I cannot trust myself to find another man, I'm too afraid.  If I didn't see such an awful thing right in front of my face, how will it be better next time?  I've started believing that I didn't deserve love, or happiness.  Mind you, I've been very emotionally traumatized, and have had a series of unfortunate events that preceeded my husband's going to prison, it was still no excuse to NOT fight for it.

The bitter pill I swallowed those three years ago has left an awful taste in my mouth, and I radiated pain and hatred with every spoken word.  It wasn't until my stepmother confronted me and my dad chimed in about my needing divorce recovery that it finally hit me.  I need to move the fuck on!

I didn't and still don't agree with their thoughts on it, I know it won't help, because I know myself and my thoughts.  I will sit there pissed because people can't get over being cheated on, or abused.  Hell my ex boyfriend smacked me around, and it was my first relationship I tried after my husband. It wouldn't help because my problem would always be worse in my mind, and no comfort could come from any of their advice.

I had to find solace in my own damn actions.  No man will bring it to me, and I don't expect them to.  Step one in my recovery, check.

I'm ready.  It's been a long shitty road, and I've made some of the worst decisions in my life following this sick turn of events.  I am going to fight for my happiness, because dammit, I do want it, and I do deserve it.  I'm building the life I want.  I'm doing it my way, and I'm going to love every tear stained, laugh filled, passionate moment that comes my way.  I refuse to let him and his lack of human decency dictate my future and/or emotions any longer. He's dead to me, and I'm letting that pain die with it.

I'm making a new journey, and the only bags to check are my clothes and my sweet, sweet Bella Magoo (my furchild).  It's already begun.  I've got a new, adorable apartment to start, and I am going to build it into my little sanctuary...I'm going to dance, I'm going to drink, and eat and love.  No looking back.

Here's to the life I'm going to build, the people I'm going to meet, and the goals I'm going to accomplish.  I refuse to sit back and let all the fun and joy pass me by while I weep silently in the corner.

It was a hard lesson, but I've finally learned it....

No one wants to hang with that girl, hell I don't want to hang with her.  I'm learning, and I'm finally evolving past the bitter, sad woman I had become, and that's the best thing I could have asked for.